Splish Splash

Ever wonder why my kids are almost always grimy and sticky? It's because I hate bath time. Hate it. Let me break it down.
Since Eric's still working the bitch shift, bath time falls on my shoulders if I want my kids to ever be anything resembling fragrant and, well, clean. Tate had two popsicles tonight, which means that the majority of said popsicles ended up on his face and hands. And hair, ears, knees, feet, and stomach. I had to suck it up and give the kid a bath. So I stuck Nora in her bouncy seat on the bathroom floor and threw Tate in the tub. Now, for some reason unbeknownst to me, he refuses to sit in the tub. Will not do it. Also, when we have to rinse the shampoo out of his hair, he screams bloody murder. I keep expecting the cops to show up at my door wondering who I'm torturing and slowly killing.
So Tate's wailing and hollering, which of course is amplified times 30 in our bathroom, which makes Nora start in too. I finally dump a few buckets of water over him and haul him out of the tub. Torture over. Then comes trying to dry him off and get his jammers on. Have you ever tried to grab a wet, naked two year old as he scampers by? It's like trying to get a hold of a greased pig. But I finally wrestled him to the floor and into a diaper. Good enough for now.
Nora's turn...and of course as I'm filling up the baby tub and transferring it from the tub to counter I spill a ton of water on the floor, which Tate proceeds to run onto and go flying. More screaming. So now I have a naked crying baby, a half-naked crying toddler, and a fully-dressed me who just wants to cry.