Lather, Rinse, Repeat
Will A Routine Bring Happiness?
Out of all of the showers I’ve taken in the past year and a half, a minority of them have been alone. It began with a tiny baby cradled in the crook of my arm, gently rubbing the mild soap across his body and hair. Watching the bubbles rinse from his scalp down his face as he reflexively closed his eyes. Now he’s underfoot, wiping a microfiber towel across the floor of the shower. Helpful. I maneuver around him, contorting my body at different angles to rinse the conditioner out of my hair. He likes to sit on the drain directly in the center of the shower floor. The fiberglass shell benefits from his scrubbing. A bottle of Dawn PowerWash is a permanent resident of the top shelf of the shower pole. With glass walls and a glass door, consistent cleaning is key to avoid the grime. I care. I know not everyone does. But I do.
Ringing in my ear, eyesight tunneling, I joined him on the floor of the shower earlier this week. He sat in my lap, gave me a hug. I had sprayed the walls of the shower and we were scrubbing them together. I tend to avoid rapid positional changes. I’ll scrub up high and then sit down to scrub down low. I forgot that I needed to take it easy. I needed to sit down. We were both fine. A bit shaken from the fantasy of what could have happened, but ultimately nothing went wrong.
I spray the dish soap to lather the walls, we scrub. At my begging to make this process easier, my husband ordered and installed a removable shower head with a hose attachment. We rinse. Days later, we repeat.
My shower needs to be clean. I also need to not pass out in the process of cleaning it. My son requires vigilant supervision at this point and routine. I need to feel like I’m not doing the same thing every single day for as long as each phase lasts.
But that’s the thing: there’s no way to know how long the phase will last.
Parenting a young child is similar to any other season of life in that there are phases. Parenting may make these phases more apparent than most other seasons of life, but they’re there.
When I was 19, I desperately needed a routine and was dragging my feet towards establishing one. I was always tired, always late to work, felt like I had no time to do what I wanted. Bedtime revenge at it’s finest. Staying up late to scroll on your phone or do whatever else is benefitting you less than just putting your head on the pillow and getting the rest you actually need. Why would I go to bed early when I’m working 40 hours a week and in night school 15 hours a week? When am I going to have time for myself?
That phase ended before I knew it. I spent the year exhausted until I eventually burnt out. Would I have been able to maintain my responsibilities if I had taken better care of myself? That’s the experiment of today.
Now I have a routine figured out. Weekdays are predictable. Weekends have the flexibility you want from those days. When the routine got out of whack this morning, I asked for help. We help each other out. I appreciate our unspoken rule: If you ask for help, I will say yes. I’ll evaluate my capacity and may need a minute to switch gears, but I’ll do it.
Routine allows for the responsibilities to be fulfilled. I know what I’m doing and when. I have expectations for each day, and their completion gives me great satisfaction. But am I happy with just checking boxes? Is that all life is? Taking on responsibilities and completing them? What else makes me happy? What else makes other people happy? I hope to find out, eventually.
I’d be curious to hear how routine impacts your life. Does it bring you happiness or is the bane of your existence? Do your responsibilities bring you happiness? How do you decide what to take on in life? Join my subscriber chat to weigh in.
Can’t wait to hear what you have to say!
-Catherine
Connect with me on Instagram at @CatherineEmeraldQuill
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