Bathtime ... Our Personal Nightmare

I always hear moms talking about how much they just *love* bath time at their house. Playing with the kids, scrubbing the fun of the day off their little bodies, watching them splash and play and delight in being in the water. They call it a bonding moment.

At our house?! We call it torture. For all involved. Bath time at our house?! So far from a fun bonding moment, and I'm pretty sure I'm *not* the only one around this house that would agree with that statement. You see, this is how bath time usually goes down here:

1. Announce that its time to climb into the bath -- and watch both kids scatter in opposite directions, running and sometimes screaming. Its like they are afraid of getting wet.

2. Wrangle one kid into the bathroom and tell them its time to get undressed while I leave to catch the other kid. Finally get the second kid into the bathroom only to find that the first kid is either not there anymore, or is there and just not listening, still fully dressed.

3. Get both kids undressed while they protest the bath -- sometimes kicking or fighting. And all the while, begging for two, three or four washcloths, colored tablets for the water, a million and one toys that they will never really play with, and cups. Cups and cups and cups. And don't forget L's spoon.

4. Let the fighting commence: first they fight over who gets to sit at the front of the bath tub. Then they fight over who is going to get their hair wet first. Fight over who is going to get washed up first. And then they fight with me over why I even need to rinse they off at all. Once we determine that they have no say, and both are getting rinsed off, they return to fighting with each other over who gets to hold what cup, who is hiding what toy, and OHMYGOD -- did someone steal and hide L's spoon?!

5. Once the kids are cleaned and I announce they can sit in the bath and play for a few minutes, they start begging for a bath time story. And another million and one toys. Extra spoons for L. They fight over who is hogging space, does S have enough space to lay on her belly and swim like a mermaid. Someone sat on someone's hand. Someone kicked someone else. And for the love of GOD -- who just splashed Mom with half the bath's water?!

6. Now the bathroom floor is SOAKED! (and so am I!) I turn around to grab an old towel to clean up the mess, cussing under my breath, wondering how long they will play today and do I have even five minutes of calm?!

7. Once the mess is cleaned and I begin to bend my knees, lowering myself to sit down for five seconds, L announces he has had enough. Enough of the water. Enough getting clean. And enough of his sister. He wants OUT! I grab a towel -- any clean towel -- and its not good enough. He wants the Spiderman towel. So I dig and find it, scoop him out of the tub, all while he's clawing at me, begging me to just pick him up and hold him. You would think he was a cat, scared of the water. He's not. He's just a big baby. I quickly dry him off, knowing I still have to get another one out of the tub, and BEG him to just take his clothes with him to the living room and I'll be there in a second. He takes off, and I know immediately, he doesn't have his clothes, and he is now running around the house naked. That will be fun!

8. I turn my attention to the other kid -- who thinks she's now The Little Mermaid. Convincing her to get out of the tub takes an act of congress, even after I've pulled the drain stopper, and the water disappears. She still flips her feet and tells me she's under the sea. I literally man-handle her to get her out, wrap her in a towel and pat her down. Then I have to pin her down long enough to run a quick brush through her hair, and get her curl creme in before she runs away from me. I've managed to get that act down to about 30 seconds -- brushing a toddler's curly hair should be an Olympic sport!

9. Both kids are now clean and dry ... but neither of them are dressed. And neither of them are in the living room like I asked. S is trying to find this doll and that book and another toy to just play with, as I remind her, time after time, that HELLO! You don't have clothes on. PLEASE put some underwear on, at least! THEN you can play! I set off to find her brother ... and he's popped a squat and is peeing on the hallway carpet. GREAT! I football carry his naked butt into the living room, put a quick diaper on him and his pajamas, and head back to clean up the puddle of pee. As I'm cleaning the mess, S comes running by, begging for a bedtime cartoon -- STILL NAKED! GIRL! GET SOME CLOTHES ON!

10. Finally. Two kids are washed, dried, and dressed. Perched on the couch in the living room, zoned in to the Disney cartoon on the tv. But of course -- Mom doesn't get to sit down and relax. I run around to make sure there isn't pee anywhere else, collect wet towels to hang up, clean up the bath room, make sure all the toys are taken care of and returned to where they need to be. And then when its all said and done, I look at the clock. It's bed time. Time to start THAT circus act, too!

What about you?! Are you a fan of bath time at the end of the day?! Or is it your personal nightmare, like mine?!