A salty dad's lament

jdbruewer's picture

Becoming a dad as you ease into your 40s is a blessing and a challenge.
The joy of showing off your kids when you're at the playground is tempered by the “your day with the grandkids, huh,” comments.
My kids' friends' parents seem to worry about things that experience has taught me not to stress about. On the other hand, the other parents seem to have so much more energy than me.
Playing horsey, running in the house and, in my case, the one-two punch where kid two gets in my face while kid one dives into my gut, leave aches and pains that seem to take longer to go away.
Then there's the lack of any time to myself to complete a thought, let alone any of the myriad chores I'm falling behind on. I love my kids, but they can wear on me a bit.
So, every once in a while, when the wife and kids are busy, I like to go in the bathroom, lock the door, and have some me time.
I'm not proud of what I do in there, but I have to come clean.
I enjoy a nice warm bath in lavender bathing salts, sometimes while listening to movie soundtrack music. It's not exactly manly, but it is a wonderful break.
Why am I admitting this now? Because I won't be able to keep it a secret much longer. Events in a world I don't live in are about to interfere.
It seems those who need new ways to get high have created a synthetic hallucinogen that is sold legally as “bath salts.” Soon I'm going to have to show ID to buy bath salts, just like I have to now for starter fluid, spray paint, certain cold medicines and some glues.
I understand the need to keep dangerous substances out of the wrong hands, but fear this move will lead to trouble for me.
As a man, I don't mind being identified buying paint, glue or starter fluid. Men need those things. Same for cold medicine. But I don't want some government agency compiling a list of men who like to take long baths in lavender bath salt.
It's bad enough already. I purchase bath salts, much like a younger man might purchase condoms. I roam in the general vicinity until no one else is around. Then I examine the shelves only after picking a safe “cover item” like razors or shampoo to look at if someone comes by. Then I quickly put the item I want in the cart and cover it with the toilet paper or some other innocent item.
I suppose I could have my wife buy it for me, but she never gets the right kind. I'm picky about my bath salts. I could get a fake ID, or work out a deal with the manager of the local big box store to leave some out by the dumpster for me to pick up.
I can see my life unraveling as I turn to a life of crime to get my stuff.
Remember, if bath salts are outlawed, only outlaws will have bath salts.