No one bothers me in my shower.  I’m beginning to have a borderline unhealthy affection for it.  Hence the following tribute:

Ode to My Shower


Oh tiny shower stall!  You are my hiding place, my happy place. “What? I can’t hear you honey; I’m rinsing. Go ask Daddy!”


You wake me up and set the course of my day.  I may stumble into you, often banging my knee, but I’m always leaving with a smile.  Even if it’s one I’ve drawn in steam on the door.



You remind me that a little dirt (and soap scum) never hurt anyone.   And that the flaws I see on my body, the parts of me that I am so critical of, are just spots to be washed.   Nothing more.


You are my reset button when my day has gone haywire.   Oh, the ideas that come to me in your quite solitude!   I can actually hear myself think.


You are the relief I need after a hard day’s work, when I have mistaken enthusiasm of heart for youth of muscle.


On the tough days, the ones where I question everything I do as a mom, as a wife, as a person, you hide my tears in your steam.  You wash them away so I can get over it and move on.


On the good days, the ones where I actually wake up with some energy and enthusiasm for the morning, you don’t cringe at my off-key singing and bungling of the lyrics to Iggy Azalea’s “Fancy.”  You just let me belt it out.  A good thing for me, not so much for anyone else within earshot.


So, thank you, Shower, for being my friend.   We’ve traveled down the road and back again.   Your heart is true.   You’re a friend and a confidante…

Sorry, I went off the rails with that one a little.   But you get the idea.   Time in the shower is time well spent. I consider it my own personal therapy session, retreat, and spa all in one.   When the going gets tough and you’re about to snap, find a place to hide if you have to.   Every mom needs a little time and space of their own.   The bathroom is as good a place as any.

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