From a Mum Who Wanted Just 20 Minutes Alone
My four children were playing quietly in different parts of the house. The sun was streaming in through the window. There were no sports schedules that needed to be rushed to. No errands screaming for attention. The day was like a blank, peaceful canvas.
Then I made a decision: I’m going to take a hot, long, peaceful shower today.
If you are a mother, you know how absurd this last sentence is. For a moment, I did believe it. I did.
No one had called me in a hurry. The kids were with their dad. There was no fighting. It was my time.
I crept up the steps like a ninja. It wasn’t that I did anything wrong, but that if even one child was detected, then the game was over. I closed the door to the bathroom behind me and took a deep breath. It’s over. Twenty glorious, steaming minutes of solitude.
Or so I thought.
Two Glorious Minutes
The steam encircled me, and I let the stress of motherhood melt away. I could feel the tension in my shoulders, and my breathing increased.
The knock.
“MUM!”
I was frozen. I pretended not to hear it. If I stood still, maybe the child would believe I was not there and run to their father.
“Mum? “Mum?
I shouted, “I am not here!”
The door creaked open. The door creaked open. My daughter was standing there with a towel in her hand, bright-eyed, and completely unaffected by the attempts I made to be alone.
She said, “I’d like to shower with you!”
I hesitated. It was my bath. Once a week, I had my sacred hot water therapy. Then came the look. The little frown with the heartbreaking look. Unspoken, “I want to be near you.”
My resolve crumbled.
“Okay,” I sighed. “Come in. “I’ll wash your head.”
Turning the Shower into Family Hour
We were squished in an area that had, up until a few moments before, felt like a haven. She smiled at me while I washed her hair. She had pushed me out of the water, but I was still cold. She was smiling. I was creating a memory. Even though it wasn’t the shower I planned, it was still a good one.
Cue Knock 2
I knew it would be futile when I heard “We’re Not Here!”
The door opened once more. My twin entered.
He walked to the toilet and declared “Mum, I have to poop.”
“Why can’t you use your downstairs bathroom?” I asked.
Nope. This was the throne chosen for the morning.
Now, not only was I wet and cold and no longer by myself, but also trapped in a room that quickly filled with steam, I could smell poop.
Motherhood is beautiful. Motherhood is sacred. Motherhood is… pungent.
All aboard the Bathroom Express
As if this weren’t enough to make me laugh, my son proudly held his iPad as he walked in while I was washing the shampoo from my daughter’s head.
“Mum! “Mum!
The scene was one that many mothers can relate to — I was naked and half-shivering in the middle of a crowd of fully dressed children, trying my best to be enthusiastic about an animated soccer player, while also hiding my bits.
“Awesome, hun! “Good job!” I said, trying to sound cheerful and hiding behind my daughter while mentally calculating the number of minutes left until I had to clean someone’s bum.
The little toilet user is done.
“Mum, I’m finished!”
This shower has ended.
Spa to Chaos in Five Minutes Flat
I shook my head and stepped outside the “sanctuary” that was now barely functioning to help clean up the mess. As I was washing my hands, the twin of child #3 popped his head into the sink.
“Mum, I miss you. “I want to cuddle.”
Now I could have cried.
What began as an indulgent moment of self-care transformed in less than five minutes into a full-blown family reunion, all taking place in the bathroom.
They were not my favorite. Yes, I loved them. Everyone knows the overwhelming love of a parent that can make your heart both swell and ache at the same time. Sometimes, however, you just want to be able to shower without having someone poo five feet from you.
Is it too much to expect?
The Great Mum-Radar Mystery
What is it that makes mums suddenly alert all children within a 550-meter radius when they are trying to use the bathroom, shower, or answer a call?
It’s uncanny.
It is possible to sit in the same room for hours and be completely available. Not one child will require you. Step into the bathroom, though? You’re suddenly the most wanted in the house. It’s as if they have a sixth sense — a radar built in for “Mum has left the office.” “Must interrupt immediately.”
I attended a lecture on attachment theory and childhood development. The psychologist explained to me that kids’ attachment systems are activated when they sense their primary caregiver is unavailable, even if it’s for a brief time. If your mother disappeared in prehistoric times, it meant death. Starvation. Predator attack.
Your child’s interruption of your shower, because you missed them, is an evolutionary survival strategy.
It’s good to know. It’s still annoying.
Reclaiming Alone Time – Is it even possible?
As I dressed and watched them leave again, I felt a strange mix of fatigue, frustration, and affection.
No, I didn’t get my dreamy shower. I got a funny story and a reminder of the fact that this chaotic season of motherhood won’t last forever.
One day, I know these little people will be adults. They’ll be busy texting or slamming doors with their friends, and won’t bother knocking on the door of the bathroom. The house will be quieter. My showers will last longer, and I will probably miss the chaos.
Until that day, I have learned to accept the fact that privacy is not a right, but a privilege. If I want to take a shower alone, I may have to stay in a hotel.
There is no shame in this.
A Hot Tip for Other Mums
Every other mum reading this who is hiding in the laundry for a moment of peace or trying to have a quiet cup of tea while the kids are staging a WWE show in the next room – I see you.
Here are some tips to help you sneak in a peaceful bath (note that the effectiveness of these techniques may vary based on your child’s age and emotional state).
- Night/Early Morning Shower: Before or after the person goes to sleep. The downside: You are usually too tired.
- Exchange Time with Your Partner: “You get 30, I get 30.” Force it as if you were enforcing a gym membership.
- Distraction Strategies: iPads or snack boxes. Or your favourite movie. Bribes and bribes are allowed.
- Hotel breaks: Reserve a single night at least once per year. If you can, book a solo night once a year.
- Lower expectations: Often, a simple 4-minute rinse is enough. Celebrate it.
Conclusion
My gratitude didn’t end when I said, This shower is over.” Motherhood is messy, chaotic, and noisy. While I will continue to strive for quiet showers, I must accept the fact that, although exhausting, being needed can be wonderful.
Is it too much to expect to poop alone?
