Monday, April 9, 2012

The robe

Before I went to college, I never owned a bathrobe. Within my first couple of weeks of freshman year, I realized I needed one. I lived on a co-ed hall, and though all in good fun, you wouldn't believe the cat calls and whistles I would get as I embarassingly walked to the bathroom to shower in towel.

Thankfully, my grandma Jean bought me a warm fuzzy blue bathrobe that year for Christmas and I didn't have to feel ashamed walking down my dorm hall any longer.

And strangely, 15 years later, I still own and use that same bathrobe. Daily. Although sometimes I feel it might be time for a new robe, at other times, I feel happy that robe has been with me from the days of being a lost and lonely 18 year old college freshman to a (nearly) 33 year old confident and happy wife and mother. And every step in between.

These days, the robe probably gets more abuse than it did when I first got it. Each morning, I shower and stay in the bathrobe until I am just ready to walk out the door. I learned the hard way that if I try to change diapers or brush boys' teeth in my work clothes, I spend a whole lot more at the dry cleaner. Its just easier to stay in the robe, complete all the morning activities required to get three young ones out the door, and change just before the bus arrives to pick up Will. Once - just once - I just it a bit too close and had to take Will out to the bus in my robe. That was awkward.

On any given day, the arm to my bathrobe is probably a bio-hazard. As gross as it is to admit here, in the past week, I can recall wiping up the following things with my bathrobe sleeve (in no particular order):

  • Otis' eye goop
  • Will's applesauce sneeze
  • Matt's nose... repeatedly
  • The toothpaste on the side of Luke's mouth
  • Water spots on the mirror
  • A smudge of who-knows-what on the garage door
  • Pediasure drops on the bookshelf

I know, I know. Next time you stay at our house and the bathrobe comes out, you'll stay as far away from my right arm as possible. I do my best to wash the bathrobe once a week. I do not always succeed. I am happy to report it is in the dryer right now as I type this update.

I liken my bathrobe to a grandmother's apron or dishrag. Just add a little bit of saliva, and bam! Perfect parental cleaning situation. Someday my kids will recall that bathrobe and laugh about how I used it to clean a little bit of everything. At least that's what I tell myself :)

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