I write this tonight as a form of therapy for myself. If I do not try to see the humor in the situation, I might find myself in a strait jacket staring at a white wall somewhere, mumbling about puppies and diapers and water hoses.
Here’s the basic turn of events this evening:
We all know when a child is not utilizing the bathroom and instead making use of their pants. They just get this look and kind of freeze in their tracks like a deer caught in the headlights. I’m not a big fan of those moments, but we had one tonight.
I will spare you the details, but my dear baby girl was marched outside, stripped down, and hosed off. Afterward, I took her inside, cleaned her off with wipes, and told her to go get her pajamas.
I look up to see that Leighanne, who I just finished cleaning up, is holding up her little foot.
It is COVERED in dog waste. The kind you smell before you see and look out for unless you’re two.
Sure enough, the dog has felt full freedom to make use of the bedroom carpet. Might I add this is NEW carpet we got just last fall, mere months before Hank made his debut appearance in our home.
I scan the room for more land mines and am none too pleased to find several more random piles scattered everywhere. I pick up my naked child under her arms, hold her as far away from my body as I possibly can, and run her to the bathtub, where I proceed to give her another good cleaning. This is my child who has a very weak stomach, so she is heaving and gagging. I am fully expecting her to be sick like she was just yesterday when the dog used my living room rug for his own purposes. She threw up on my hardwood floors, much to the disgust of her big sisters. Strangely enough, the dog’s messes don’t seem to bother them nearly as much as their sister’s.
But I digress. After her bath, I wrap her up in the towel and begin taking her to my room. Somehow, the Houdini dog has managed to get upstairs unnoticed (probably b/c Michael was busy cleaning the carpet in the other room). This time, he has targeted MY bedroom, and we can’t even walk in because he’s left his special presents EVERYWHERE. Again…this is NEW carpet.
A friend asked me just yesterday if the dog was finding its way into my heart. She asked if I would miss him if he were gone.
I would miss him like my kids miss brussel sprouts and getting shots. Something about having to wear a gas mask in my own home just makes my natural nurturing mama’s affection grow a little dim. They say distance makes the heart grow fonder. I would really, really like to test that theory.