Tuesday, February 03, 2004

A Single Mami's Wet Dream

i wrote this over a year ago and just found it...so enjoy

A Single Mami’s Wet Dream

It’s like one of those silly herbal shampoo commercials. I’m writhing under a steady shower stream, moaning, except I’m not washing my hair or rambling about botanicals. No, I am not playing with myself either, nor am I sharing the shower with a sexy, smart trigueno musician, although I have been known to do all of the above, sometimes at the same time. So what is bringing me such orgasmic ecstasy in the shower? Time by myself.
I haven’t had a private shower in years. It’s not that I’m an exhibitionist and invite random people to watch me as I lather up. I’m not talking about my latest show at the strip club where I work. There are no shower shows. I’m talking about trying to shave my left leg and not cutting myself when the shower door suddenly slides open and my five year old daughter yells ,”What are you doing mom?”

Some of you may say, “Tell her to go bother her father,” and believe me I would if she had a valid passport and enough money to put herself on a flight down to near the Patagonia in Chile where her father is. Telling her to go bother the nanny isn’t a really good option either since I don’t have one. As a single, working mother I don’t have the luxury of just passing my daughter off, even for just 15 glorious minutes. Sure, sometimes I luck out and my mom or sister will relieve me but those moments are few and far between.

Let me get back to my mental masturbation. . Me in the shower or even better, me in a tub filled with lavender infused water and rose petals. Some scented candles would be nice too and of course some music, like a sensual samba. There would be no interruptions. No children yelling at me to help them find a toy or fix them a sandwich. There would be no rubber ducks or bottles of bubble bath with cartoon characters grinning at me. There would be no hair to wash except my own so no worrying about getting soap in someone’s eyes and the inevitable crying and whining that would follow. I wouldn’t have to be extra careful in making sure the shaver was out or reach because well I know how to handle a razor.

There are variations of the wet dream. Sometimes I’m peeing all by myself and not having to give a biology lesson while I’m doing my business. Sometimes I’m able to finish a whole newspaper article without once being asked to punish the cat for destroying a new Lego housing development. Ah yes and sometimes I even enjoy a complete meal without cleaning up an iced tea spill. Just writing about these things get me all worked up. Ecstasy really is in the minutia of life.

Not long ago I sent my daughter to kindergarten. I cried when I left her behind. That first day I couldn’t get through anything, expecting an interruption and actually feeling disappointment when there was not one. Now I’m used to the silence of the apartment.
I revel in long showers, reading whole chapters of novels, and writing my own chapters.
Enjoying the solitude of those few hours without my daughter does not make me a bad mother. I now value the time, even the disruptions, of solo mommyhood a little bit more.
Now excuse me, I only have 7 hours left to wash my hair.

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