About Me:

Aloha! I'm Wendy Kennar. I'm the mother of a seven-year-old son and a wife living in Los Angeles. I was a public school teacher for twelve years until a chronic medical condition made it necessary to leave my teaching career.

I've always been described as "quiet" - really, I'm just biting my tongue. I've got lots to say, and lots of thoughts to share, I just prefer to write them. That's the purpose of this blog. Each Wednesday, I post a personal essay offering my observations and thoughts.

A few fun facts about me: I've wanted to be a writer since second grade, when my teacher, Mrs. Jones, made me a "book" with a yellow construction paper cover. I have never learned to whistle, have always preferred sunflowers to roses, and have spent my life living within the same zip code.

Through the years, my writing has been published in the Los Angeles Times, Christian Science Monitor, United Teacher, GreenPrints, L.A. Parent, DivineCaroline.com, RoleReboot.org, XOJane, and Brain, Child Magazine. Additionally, my personal essays have been included in several anthologies, including: The Barefoot Review, Beyond the Diaper Bag, Lessons From My Parents, Write for Light, Being a Grown-Up: A User's Manual for the Real World, Ka-Pow!, How Writing Can Get You Through Tough Times, Breath and Shadow, The Grey Wolfe Storybook, and Sisters Born, Sisters Found.
I am a regular contributor at MomsLA.com, and you can also find me at Goodreads.

Thanks for stopping by and reading my blog. Feel free to comment and share my blog with others!

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

Bath Time

   The purpose of bath time has evolved during my lifetime.  I remember bathing with my younger sister, watching the water run down the drain.  I remember pretending our bathtub was a very, very small pool as my dad, sister, and I donned our swimsuits and splashed around.

   As I got older, baths were replaced with quicker showers.  And when I did take a bath it wasn’t as much for the purpose of maintaining personal hygiene, but as a relaxation technique.

   Back in college, there was one year when I had no classes scheduled on Friday’s.  And for a blissful few hours, I had the house all to myself.  I still lived at home, and privacy wasn’t something that came easily.  Friday mornings, it was bubble bath time.  I would set up the bathroom, bringing in my boom box, with an appropriate cassette tape suitable for a relaxing bubble bath.  I would light a multitude of candles on the sink countertop and along the edge of the bathtub.  Finally, I would fill the tub with warm water and a floral-scented bubble bath.  Bliss.

   When my husband and I first moved in together, it was easier to get privacy.  He often worked late nights, and I was able to have time for a private bubble bath.  Except, our first apartment had a tub with sliding shower doors.  I detested those doors and longed  for a shower curtain.  It was harder to set up my candles around the tub.  Harder to see my candles flicker on the sink countertop.  But I adapted.

   In our current home, with two and a half bathrooms, it was much easier to retreat into a bubble bath, especially because both tubs are door-free.  Again, I lit candles, had music playing, and sank into lavender-scented bubbles.

   Becoming a Mommy made my bath time more difficult to coordinate.  By the end of the day, I was too exhausted to set up my bath.  I just wanted to shower and get it over with so I could finally sleep.  Still, I tried to make time to take a bath and succeeded once a month -- if I was lucky.

   My medical condition has complicated the situation.  My thirty-seven year old body feels so much older when I can’t get myself out of the tub.  Sometimes, I’m forced to prop myself on all fours, holding onto the edge of the tub and the bar on the wall, using all my might to get myself into a standing position.  Other times, I’m reliant on my husband to hoist me up.  My bubble bath feels wonderful while I’m in it, but afterwards pain often settles in.

   Sometimes I experience a bath hangover -- legs that feel heavy, a body depleted of energy, and a throbbing in my left calf.  But, because not every bath ends that way, when I’m having a good night, pain-wise, I still take my chances and submerge myself into bubbles while I escape into the current novel I’m reading. 

   I need to remind myself that self-pity won’t accomplish anything.  I cannot become despondent about what my body can no longer do.  My baths are changing.  If it gets to the point where the pain afterwards exceeds the pleasure during, then I will simply have to stop taking my bubble baths.  

   After all, I can’t bathe in the kitchen sink anymore, either.


  1. I know you have always enjoyed taking a bath.I am sorry that when you now take a bath you experience so much more pain after enjoying your bath time.I always liked to take a bath with the candles going also,but now I can't remember the last time I took a bath as it has been years.I love reading your work.You really have a talent for writing.I love you and I am so proud of you.

  2. I can relate to your issues when you take a bath. Like your Mother, it has been years since I have taken a bath. As a senior citizen, I also experienced the difficulty of getting in and out of the bath tub. In my older years, its the shower for me. I enjoy your blog, as always, you have given me pause to stop and think. Your Mother and I are proud of you.

    Love, Dad

  3. Honey,
    I still remember how excited you would be by having the house to yourself on Friday mornings!
    Your blog is fantastic work!
    I Love You!

  4. I love your description of bath time!! We can always get a giant hot tub installed on your porch and you can use that as a bath tub!! heehee... I love you..