AH yes, just when it seemed things were finally calming down, that the major poop (at least animal related poop) incidents were mostly behind me, I got a big stinky smack from reality, courtesy of Pippa, and some certain spouse who shall remain nameless.  And apparently being in the 3rd trimester of pregnancy and in more or less constant pain relegating me to the couch all the time gets me no sympathy either.

You see, it’s been rough to keep things together around here when I can’t be on my feet for long.  I spent all day Sunday cleaning, and I mean ALL day – on my feet for 15 minutes, off my feet for 20, and so on and so forth.  Makes for a long day of getting not enough done.  Being alone during the week means constant vigilence against mess (in other words, me screaming from the couch for the kids to clean up after themselves for once), and using up whatever energy I have to take Pip out in the extreme heat to do her business (takes her forever – I generally feel the beginnings of heatstroke by the time she gets around to finding the right spot to “go”).  SO I have a rule I have been using, and I thought everyone knew it.  Basically, she poops twice a day – after breakfast and after dinner.  SHe is not allowed off leash in the house during the day until after her morning poop.  Then after dinner the same rule applies – once she’s had her dinner she cannot be off leash in house until after the poop.  It’s worked perfectly for me.

Well, this evening that somehow did not happen.  Paul took her for a nice long evening walk, brough her in and let her off leash.  I assumed she pooped, since they were out for about 40 minutes and she’s almost never failed to produce after a nice walk.  I assumed wrong.  Therefore, it came as quite a surprise when I began to smell a certain bad smell emanating from somewhere near the front of the house.  I snooped around, and there, of all places, was a big pile on the top stair going up to the second floor, just in front of the baby gate keeping her from going upstairs.  WTF?  Why there??????  How did she manage that?  Was that some not so subtle message for the cats that taunt her from their relative safety up there on the other side of the gate?  I don’t get it.  And the timing sucks because I am out of my all purpose spray cleaner.  Good thing Paul had some Simple Green cleaner in the garage.  Which brings me to my next frustration – why did I have to be the one to clean it up?  Hello???  Pregnant???  In pain and discomfort?  Not supposed to clean the cat litter????  What makes dog poop safer than cat poop?  At least I know all the cats eat is their bagged food (indoor cats – they’re never outside), which basically looks the same coming out the other end.  And no, my cats dont’ drink from the toilet.  The lids are closed at all times, because I use bleach in them, and therefore do not want the cats to drink it.  Hell, the dog eats anything she sees, inside AND outside.  God only knows what the baby and I got exposed to.  Well, actually it’s probably fine because I didn’t breathe the entire time I was cleaning, perilously perched over the top step trying to conrol my retching.  But still!!!!!!!!!!  What happened to the days when a pregnant woman could expect some pampering or sympathy???  Did those days ever actually exist? And if so, how do I go back to them????????  Will my days of poop cleaning ever end?  Or will I progress from cleaning baby and dog poop to elderly parent and spouse poop??  Will my children be doomed to clean my poop when I am elderly?  Because somehow that is not preferable to having my own poop cleaning days behind me.  Dear lord I would never have survived life before indoor plumbing.