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And it all Comes Back to Poo, My Dogs and My Backyard. Again.

5

January 31, 2011 by Marj Hatzell

You know, just when I thought it was safe…

I really try to be more interesting. Honest. I mean, I don’t WANT to talk about poo. I want to talk about fun stuff!  Interesting stuff!  Stuff that happens in my life that is fun and interesting!  But it all comes back to the same shiz: My dogs, poo and my backyard.

The dogs? Love snow. Will stay out and play in snow all day. And since I haven’t been physically able to walk them in a month? That’s a good thing, ’cause they need the exercise. So yesterday I was finally able to walk them. Both of them. All by myself. And I walked and walked. And it felt soooo good. But today? Paying for it. Ouchy.

The backyard? Poo? Well. They come in one neat, little package. We’re expecting more snowmageddon, followed by icemageddon, so I had to go out in the yard today in my snowboots and trudge around in over a foot of snow, looking for steaming piles of dog poo that were encased in ice. So much fun chipping away at poo in the snow and scooping it up. Anyways, I naturally put off doing this until the kids got home. Meaning, Bugaboo. So I told Bug Boy to keep an eye on him. And except for the part that Bug Boy totally ignored him and actually DID HIS HOMEWORK (seriously, the one night he does his homework! SHEESH!), Bugaboo was ok. But not really, since he kept coming out and running around in the snow and losing his shoes and stuff and then complaining (whining) about how cold he was. So. Chipping away. Snow and poo. Got it cleaned up and went inside. Where I smelled

Yes! Poo! And assumed it was Bugaboo’s poo. Since he still insists on having a pullup on to poo. Little stinker. Anyways, I told him to go into the bathroom, which he took as a sign to run upstairs to the shower. So I grabbed the wipes and followed him, figuring we could get his daily shower (or four) out of the way before dinner. And by the time I climbed the stairs to the bathroom he had already stripped off his clothes. And the pull up. And tried to clean it off himself. And wasn’t even close to being successful. Sigh.

It was on the wall. On the shower curtain. On the shower wall. On the tub. On the toilet seat. On the side of the toilet. On the wall next to the toilet. On the toilet paper, four feet of it, all pulled out all over the floor, covered in poo. And his hands were covered, and it was up to his waist. He even managed to wipe it on his forehead.

Seriously? He was up there ahead of me for LESS THAN THIRTY SECONDS. I cannot for the life of me understand how he did it that fast and made that much of a mess. Then again, this is my kid we’re talking about here. My kid who moves one hundred miles per hour. Always. Everyday, all day. Why am I shocked again?

It was loads of fun attempting to clean that up. You know, without getting it all over the house. And keeping four dogs at bay while I did it.

I need to get paid more.

5 thoughts on “And it all Comes Back to Poo, My Dogs and My Backyard. Again.

  1. Katie says:

    Yeeesh… Talk about a poopy Monday. :-/ Hope a glass of wine was in store after the kiddos bedtime.

  2. Funny you talk about poo. I was just mentioning at the lab yesterday as I was having blood drawn how refreshing it was to be there for blood and not my son’s poo for once. I’m beginning to wonder if there’s ever a day in motherhood where our lives don’t revolve around someone’s poo.

  3. shannon says:

    you should be grateful he poops in a pull-up. My daughter will be 4 in June,a nd just craps her pants, underwear, diaper, whatever, she doesn’t care. I cant seem to figure out how to get her to crap in the toilet.

    For instance, tonight daycare sent her home sans undies. No biggie… Until she crapped in her still-clean jeans with no warning. So I decide she gets to take a bath. We run the water, and I stick her in… I ask her if she plans on dying, she says no so I leave the room to grab my water, I get back to the bathroom and she is standing in the middle of the floor, with an apple-sized chunk of crap on the floor. Like, in one turd. how she got that out have NO idea. Moral of the story is to never let your child use your loofah tho. She promptly got back in the tub, grabbed my moms loofah, put soap on it, and wiped her but clean. AWESOMENESS!! Well, it was until she then wiped the loofah on her hair…

    • Yeah, so, read back a few months. And afew years. And…well, let’s just say I should have a CATEGORY FOR POO. It is not unusual for the dude to take off the pull up and have squirty trots all over the carpet. Or his bed. Or my bed for that matter. Or, next to the toilet. OR! My fave is when he goes in teh tub! And wipes it all over the tile! And then wipes his hands off on his own hair or stomach. Or the shower curtain. Let’s just say I’m familiar with poo. And he’s eight and STILL won’t go on the toilet.

  4. […] being so damned hard on myself. This sleep stuff? I know you are tired of hearing about it. And the issues with poo. And my muddy backyard. And issues with muddy dogs in my backyard. But the truth is? […]

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