Don’t Throw out the Mama with the Bathwater

Above: I bought a pretty Bath Bubbler, made with raw honey, from the honey man at the Montclair Farmers' Market and stashed it in my tote like a hungry person might hide a crisp, fresh apple for the right moment. Now, the time has come. (Product link HERE*.}

Remember when we had young babies, little girls or boys?

Recall bath time, when Night’s dark curtain fell, and we rounded up the young one(s), filled the tub, added bubbles and bath toys? I always put on Simon & Garfunkel, Loggins and Messina ("House at Pooh Corner"), John Denver or Cat Stevens...on cassette tapes...Figgy was born in 1995. I do believe that music--those notes, the words--is embedded in her soul, and certainly in mine.

Tonight it’s only 7:58, but I’m about to run the tub and take a bath and read stories to myself in bed after that (or do the NY Times Spelling Bee game on my iPhone).

Just because we grown-ups are no longer mothered/fathered with bubble baths and storytime does not mean we cannot gift that ritual to ourselves.

Good night.

*Note at 9:48 p.m. I chose Rose/Fennel. Very pleasant and clean-smelling but doesn’t bubble, despite the name, FYI. Bath bombs generally do not; hence, the common name bath fizzy.