To sleep, or not to sleep?

Every so often it becomes necessary for me to re-evaluate and decide what I value more - Sleep or Time Alone.

Lately I've been choosing Sleep, but I think I have returned to a point that Time Alone may win out.

Choosing Sleep means I get out of bed at the same time as the boys. Which means showering while they are up and awake and unsupervised around the house. Yes, there is the whole idea of night-time showers, and sometimes that is what I do. Sometimes, I don't get a shower at all!

Here's the thing: I really love my hot showers. They mean a few several minutes of peace and quiet and solitude. And, as a bonus, in the end you come out clean and smelling nice. Not a bad deal at all!

During this time, I can tolerate a little talking through the door, or fingers appearing underneath it. We are trying to train our boys not to hang out in front of a closed bathroom door. That's just rude and annoying. And semi-gross if you ask me. At the same time, a little exchange now and then is better than complete silence. Silence makes you wonder what they're into.

But this morning.... well.... I think I've reached the end of the line for Sleep winning out over Time Alone. Because this morning, my Shower Time Alone was completely violated.

It went like this:

Several minutes of the space heater and steam from the shower had the bathroom nice and warm.

I was still on the early end of my shower routine, right between the shampoo and conditioner.

Dale stuck his head in the door. "Mama. I need to go to the bathroom."

Of course I granted entrance. I didn't want to deal with wet pants later!

Dale noted the steamed-up mirror and we had a quick discussion about the similarities of mist, fog, and steam. (We've been talking about mist and fog this week). Hey - homeschooling happens everywhere, right?

But my patience ran out pretty quick and when Alan joined us in the bathroom I shooed them both back to their play-dough.

This is where it all started to go downhill.

"But Mama. I'm pooping."

Aw, man.

Gross.

Of course, there is no way Alan was going to leave when everyone else in the house was hanging out in the bathroom. And besides, Alan loves showers too.

Dale was feeling quite chatty. Me? Notsomuch.

He brought up a number of subjects, all of which were met with a "hurry up" or "finish up" from me.

Alan - the one who loves showers, remember? - opened the door to check in on me once. I was neither thankful or appreciative of his concern.

I was trapped! In my own shower! I coudln't even reach my towel.

At least I was there to monitor the singing-of-the-ABC's during Dale's hand washing.

But so much for peace, quiet, and solitude. I'm SO setting my alarm tonight.