Bathtime is an important part of our evening ritual. For both of my daughters, time in the tub signals the end of the day, and they know the pouring and splashing and washing and rinsing will soon give way to pajamas, storytime, and lights out.
Now that my girls are older, I bathe them together every night. This works nicely for me because they love to play together in the tub, and I find I can bring a magazine, book, or my daily docket for the following day to keep me occupied as I sit closeby to supervise the bathtime play. While this does offer some much-needed wind-down time for me, it occurred to me a few weeks ago that bathing the girls could also provide me with just a few minutes to be mindful in my end-of-the-day connection with my girls.
What does a bathtime meditation look like? Here are three ideas to get you started:
As I bathe each daughter, I might say a simple prayer like, “Thank you, God, for these sweet little feet. May they carry her to exciting places to do life-changing things someday,” or “What a blessing this chubby cheeks are to me. May her smile be an encouragement to everyone she encounters.”
Even if you aren’t a participant in organized religion, you might think of ways to speak positive thoughts over your children as you spend a few mindful minutes bathing them.
Whether your child is six weeks or six years old, I think it is important to model gratitude. You might say something like, “I’m so thankful we got to go to the library today! We have so many new books to read!” or “I am so thankful for the visit from Grandma and Grandpa. They love you so much.”
As your children get older, encourage them to offer their own words of gratitude and appreciate for the day. The things my four year old comes up with to be thankful for always bring a smile to me.
This is particularly important to me at the end of the of a day that has been filled with more tears than giggles and more correction than encouragement. My oldest daughter when through a phase where one hundred was absolutely the biggest thing she could imagine, so I might say something like, “You know, I love you ONE HUNDRED!” Or I might tell my toddler, “Even if you marked on every wall in every house on every street, I would still love you so very, very much.”
Sometimes we get silly and say things like, “I’d love you even if your elbows looked like your knees and you had horsey breath!” and “If your hair looked like a rainbow and your nose looked like a blueberry, you’d be my most favorite rainbow-haired, blueberry-nosed person in the whole world!”
Now certainly, there are evenings when I really do just lose myself in the glossy, perfectly put-together pages of Martha Stewart Living or enjoy a few precious minutes with pen and paper and no one trying to grab them from my hands. And yet some evenings, it really works for me to turn the time spent kneeling beside the tub into a mindful, intentional, reflective celebration of my daughters and our day.
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photo courtesy of Ernst Moeksis