Showering like it’s 1965.

I once considered my refined mother to be, well, quite the prude.

She was, and still is, big on the whole private boudoir concept. She actually finds pride in the fact that my father is not allowed in the master bathroom while she’s showering.

“A lady needs to leave a little mystery.”

And since my brother and I were born during the Dark Ages of the father hanging out in the waiting room, yes, there still is a little mystery in my parent’s relationship. Even after 44 years.

As a mother of two myself, I completely understand the need for privacy. But I’ve totally got her number. She’s not trying to keep her grooming secrets in the shadows – she’s figured out how to have 30 minutes to herself.

I envy her. And her brains.

Here’s my past Sunday morning – which is par for the course:

One minute into the shower, Oldest (6) comes stumbling in wanting to know where I put his Lo Yo! cards.

Three minutes later, Oldest is back to let me know Dad found the cards. (Praise the Lord!)

Another 30 seconds go by before Youngest (3) comes in, just to “see where Mama is.” Leaves without shutting the door during a crucial point of shaving my legs. Goose bumps + razor = ouch.

Hubs then decides to hang out and chat about, I don’t know, the Final Four, the weather, the price of tea in China.

By now, I’m seething and seriously contemplating installing a sliding door and a quarter slot – I might as well be paid for this peep show. I need alone time. I crave it. And if I don’t get my fix, the ramifications are serious.

So, I’ve decided that enough is enough. MWOB, please bear witness to this declaration –

This Queen is reclaiming her throne!!

Come this weekend, I will sit all three of my men down and let them know, the revolving door is now officially closed. Once Mama disappears into the lair, no one, and I mean no one (Hubs!) is allowed in until I come out fully dressed and smelling sweet.

If they will be so kind as to just give me those precious 30 minutes, I will gladly hand over the other 23 and 1/2 hours of my day. I’ll even add Poison Control to speed dial to ensure that there is absolutely no legitimate reason to come a callin’.

Now, does anyone have a Do Not Disturb sign I may borrow?

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