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.