I’m bored so I decided to take a bath. I’m more of a shower person, but I used to love baths when I was little. I liked to make up stories during my baths. I remember we had a pretty burgundy shampoo or bubble bath bottle that had a plastic rose floating in it. I decided this bottle was “Queen Rose” and she reigned over all the other tub toys. I made a magic carpet out of the wash cloth by laying it out flat on top of the bubbles and placing the lightweight tub toys on top of it and taking them for a ride. The bubbles were the clouds. My mom would come in and tell me it was time to get out but I would beg her to let me stay in longer, even though she warned me that the water was getting too cold and I would “catch my death”.
I made bath time fun for my kids when they were little. I had a mix tape of bath songs (Octopus’s Garden, Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes, Splish Splash, etc.) and I would play it while I bathed them. They learned all the words and we would sing and splash around. Good times.
if you think you don’t need to reblog it because a few of your followers have already reblogged it, you’re wrong.
we don’t all follow exactly the same people. there may be one of your followers that may need to read about PH. maybe they’ve had the symptoms but never knew what it was? you may save a life! you never know.
2 people ( hellonurse & monkeyfrog ) helped save my life by getting me to the ER. if i had never gone, i wouldn’t be typing this right now. i am forever thankful.
You know what, pamphlet? You’re right. I’m a chump, cleaning my own house for all these years. Thank you, pamphlet, for caring. I feel so free!
In other news, I just watched Tim Gunn hula dance. It was glorious and disturbing.
I have to go to a classical music concert on Halloween. This is impinging on my plans to sit on the couch eating chips and watching scary movies whilst getting intoxicated. It’s tough being so cultured.
I suppose people could blame me for ending Audrey Hepburn’s career. She knew her potential. If she had kept working, the parts were there for her, and her success professionally would have continued at a high level for years. But she wanted to be with her family. She wanted a private life. And she couldn’t bear the thought that she might fail as a mother. It was too important to her.
I remember her long hair, her bare feet, which as a little boy I often caressed while she put her makeup on. Whenever she had to go to a dinner or a cocktail party, she would always say, “Oh, if only I could only stay home and eat in the kitchen with you.”
I remember school days, cramming for exams for which she probably fretted more than I did. She would test me before bed and again in the morning, waking up with a sort of sleepy head only adults enjoy. I remember her elation at good grades, her support and positiveness for the “not so good ones”. I remember sleepovers on weekends, when we would chat with the lights out, during those precious few moments before one falls asleep. We would talk about feelings and plans and people and things, but in that way that is specific to that darkness, like two souls suspended.
I am often asked what it was like to have a famous mother. I always answer that I don’t know. I knew her first as my mother and then as my best friend. She wanted to be a mother very much so when she had the opportunity, she did it to the fullest extent of the law. Audrey Hepburn’s son, Sean Hepburn Ferrer +