“It’s just a bathtub,” I muttered under my breath as I braced myself against whipping winds and swirls of heavy snowflakes.
I had given birth less than a week ago. My oldest was still going to daycare and my husband decided that a snowstorm would be the perfect opportunity to load up our newborn, and his still-waddling-in-pain wife, and visit every home improvement store within 20 miles of our house.
What started as a simple “re-caulk of the master bath” somehow turned into an entire bathroom remodel by the third day of his paternity leave. Which meant, we were going to need a lot more caulk…among other things.
As we walked down what felt like the 900th aisle together, my husband turned to me and asked, “Do you want to try sitting inside one of the bathtubs? See what it feels like?”
“Sitting inside one?!,” I laughed back. “Chris, I just gave birth. I’ll never get out of that thing alive.”
Crestfallen, he continued down the aisle, spouting off the specs on a thousand different bathtub/shower combos to see if one jumped out at me. He rattled off soaking depths and basin widths, ergonomic contouring, and hydrotherapy capabilities. “It’s just a bathtub,” I shrugged, as I looked down at my watch once again, wondering how much more of this we could squeeze in before I’d have to nurse our baby right in the middle of Menard’s.
Before you knew it, we were back outside, bracing ourselves against the wind.
“Just one more stop,” he said, before I countered with, “But, Chris! It’s just a bathtub!”
Soon after, he’d drop me and the baby off at home, so that he could go back to the store with a head full of ideas, to stock up for his next big project.
He woke up early and stayed up late working on that bathroom. He drove to Lowe’s a dozen times over the next few days, adding features, exchanging parts, pouring every bit of himself into this labor of love around an already-busy work schedule. As the days ticked by, I remember wondering what was going on behind the door he had sealed off from view. “It’s just a bathtub,” I mused, as I once again trudged downstairs to shower for the day. “What could be taking so long?”
A week went by, then a few days more. And on a day that seemed just like any other, he came downstairs and told me he needed my opinion on the bathroom project.
“Oh my goodness, Chris! It’s just a bathtub!”
He led me upstairs, two littles in tow, and stood back to watch my reaction as I opened the door.
There were candles everywhere the eye could see, soft music playing, a brand new bathtub full to the brim with aromatherapy and bubbles, and a tray of the finest bath products you could ever imagine.
And then a voice came from behind me. “It’s all for you. I know how much you love baths, and you haven’t been able to take one in years. So I wanted to do this for you, especially after you were such a rockstar during the birth. I’ve got the girls, don’t worry about us. Take as much time as you need, relax and enjoy yourself mama. I love you.”
And with tears in my eyes, I finally realized, it was so much more than “just a bathtub.”
