Hello there!

Welcome to my little corner of the ether. This is where you will find information about my books and musings on life and love in New York City. To stay in the loop about all things ADR...

JOIN THE LIST

bathtub Friday again. Time for my weekly update on the Happy Headache (a.k.a. the untimely-given-this-recession-gut-reno of our new place). This week, as you might have guessed from the above glorious pic, I'm talking tubs.

I've never been a big bath person. I've always been a loyal fan of the quick and efficient shower. We've been in our current apartment for five years and I think I've taken all of one bath. Pretty pathetic. These days, we have a good excuse though. We are parents now. Busy people. Baths, like so many other things, seem like indulgences, time sucks. Plus, our one tub is currently filled with a rainbow medley of baby bath toys, foam letters, empty bottles of bubble bath. On one end, there's a little bath ring suctioned to the basin, so little Baby won't topple over. In our home, bath time is for the girls.

But now. We are afforded that fabled fresh start. We are knee-deep in creating a new home for ourselves. And maybe a new way of doing things? Yesterday, Husband and I attended our weekly meeting at the job site. We plowed through the week's list of tiny, but vital, details. We chatted about carbon monoxide detectors. We debated gas vs. electric. We bantered about HVAC. And then we did our walk-through.

We walked into the area that will one day be the master bath. In the center of the soon-to-be room was a massive cardboard box. Husband and I took a peek. There it was. Our tub. Sleek and white and very adult. Not the kind of tub you'd toss kids or rubber duckies into. Our tub. (Yes, the beautiful one up there!) I studied it. Its sleek lines and quiet promise. And it wasn't hard to imagine it fixed to our floor, standing freely, waiting for human contact. And, again, this was a moment that made this all wonderfully real. There is a tub, a real tub, in our new place!

But I wonder whether we will use it. Whether I will. Whether, after years of efficiency and bath toys and bubbles, I will press that proverbial pause button, soak it all up, and savor bath time once more?

Are you a bath person or shower person? Β Why? Have you always been this way?

Just a Toy

Motherhood as Escape Hatch?