Bath Time

     Not all of my days are filled with sunshine and rainbow colored cereal. Today certainly wasn't. Today was one of those days I could have cried all day. In my experience, the ends of these times away from Shane can bring on as much stress and anxiety as the beginnings. Something about being just a few weeks from the end of this journey has had my thoughts in a tailspin. What if? What if he gets delayed? What if he's too tired for surprise Christmas? What if he doesn't like the new "mommy" me? What if, when he's home, I still don't relax? What if I have a hard time sharing of some of my responsibilities? I have spent the better part of the last five months telling myself how much time I have left until he's home. I say out loud, "Just 2 more months..." or "Less than 3 weeks..." I just keep reminding myself of the number of months, weeks or days we have left. As if, the moment he walks through the door, all my anxiety is going to go away. I have no doubt in my mind that a lot of it will, but a lot will still remain.

    There is one moment during every single day that those thoughts seem to disappear. I make Shelton's last bottle of the day, whip up some yummy fruit for him with a tiny plastic spoon and I get things ready for our nightly routine. I scoop him up and whisk him away to, what I believe, is his favorite part of the day. Bath time. It is absolutely, without a doubt, my favorite part of his day too. He is splashing. I am laughing. There are bubbles. He's trying to eat them. I realized tonight that it's impossible to have a bad time during bath time. I dare you to try! For an adult it is a time to unwind and relax. And although most of us aren't trying to eat them, often times there are bubbles. For Shelton, it's one last time to play before bedtime. His day is winding down, he's sleepy and rubbing his eyes but somehow still has enough energy to attempt to pull up on the tub and give me a heart attack. It's a thirty minute vacation from the what ifs that flood my mind. Eventually the bubbles fade, the water turns from just warm enough to slightly cool and he gets hungry. I get him out and dry him off. We sing songs and I tickle him to hear him laugh one last time. It's over until tomorrow evening. The thoughts start flooding back in. So tonight, after our magical time together where all negativity is lost, I sat Shelton on my lap with his back to me. I fed him yummy pears from a tiny plastic spoon and tried to sound normal as i said things like, "Are they good, buddy?" with tears rolling down my face. Today is one day closer than we were yesterday. Tomorrow is a brand new day. And who knows? Maybe we'll play in the bathtub tomorrow morning just for fun.