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.

So it’s Wednesday (not today, but when this all happened!) and Paul is in Los Angeles (shopping in Beverly Hills w/o me no less…bastard).I’m making dinner (ok, I’m reheating dinner) and Neve and Emily are watching Spongebob.  Suddenly Neve jumps off the couch, fist planted firmly between her legs and announces “I need have go potty!”

She runs up the stairs (won’t go in the downstairs one, for some reason) and I hear her footsteps head ino the bathroom that is in my bedroom.  After a minute or two I hear her flush, and I hear the predictable sound of the toilet lid crashing down with a resounding bang.  Then…I hear it again.  And again.  And a fourth time.  Then Ihear her footsteps pounding down the hall upstairs into her bedroom, and I hear the door slam shut and the click of the lock engaging.

Uh-oh, I think.  I head up the stairs, and from within her bedroom I hear her yelling “Don’t go in your potty mommy!!!”.  So now I run.  And I get into the bathroom and lift the lid just as the water (filled with several large floaters and wads of paper) is about the breach the rim.  I turn off the water and close the lid.

Later that evening (after I’ve plunged and thoroughly cleaned the potty) I am brushing my teeth in preparation for bed.  Neve comes running in again, in full “I need have go potty” mode.  SO she does, and I make sure she only uses a little bit of paper this time.  So I tell her “Ok, get off the potty and pull up your pants and close the lid and flush, and then you can come wash your hands.”   “Ok mommy” she says in her “I am so sweet” voice.  I then witness her get off the potty, bend over to pull up her pants, and let her hair dangle into the pee-pee filled potty.  After which (instead of following any of my instructions) she runs out and jumps into my bed, putting her head down on papa’s pillow.  As I stated, he is in LA.

I won’t tell if you don’t.

So I stayed home from work yesterday to take Neve to the doctor to see about this whole diarrhea thing.  If only the day off could have been relaxing!

Mom’s dog, Sadie, has been with us the last 2 nights while they are in Va Beach.   Poor depressed Sadie – she’s a momma’s dog. She’s been sullen and dejected being at my place.

Anyway, I got up and took Sadie out.  She didn’t want to come back in.  I had to practically drag her.  Then I got my two miscreants out the door and put them in the pen.  I rigged a pole through the pen door where they’d been escaping and double checked to be sure they couldn’t move it.  It was a good secure lock.   So it’s 6:30 at this point and I am thinking I’ll go back to bed and cuddle with Neve until she wakes up.  Ah – nice warm snuggly bed with sleeping baby and some time to relax.   And then – barking dogs outside.  Those jerks must be playing, I think.  I look out the window – sure enough they are wrestling in the mud.  No big, I think as I lay back down, relieved.  With a day off, I can handle muddy dogs.  In fact, I welcome it.  A muddy dog is likely a panting, worn out dog, right?  The only worrisome part is the barking.  We can’t see our neighbors houses, but they are not that far away.  Surely they can hear that barking?  That incessant barking.  Then I realize it is not Zelda barking, it’s Pip – which is odd because normally Zelda is the one that barks when they play.  I look out again.  Zelda’s gone.  Pip’s frantically trying to climb out over the chicken wire.  Looks like no relaxation for me.

I slide back into my jeans, run outside and grab Pippa.  She’s going to need a bath – I figure I can do that later.  I bring her in the house and call Sadie.  Zelda LOVES Sadie.  maybe she can help me flush her out of the woods and convince her to come back home.  I snap the leash back on her and head outside.  Sure enough I can hear crashing and jingling in the woods – signs of Zelda running wild back there.  I notice it’s getting hot out – it’s not even 7 in the morning and it must be already about 70 degrees.  i also notice that I have a majorly itchy patch of poison ivy on my chest – no doubt from grabbing little Pippa puppies who have just come running out of the woods.  Great.

Anyway, after about 15 minutes of calling her, Zelda notices Sadie and comes running at her.  Sadie cowers behind my legs as Zelda attempts a full body slam on her, nealry knocking me to the ground.  I do my best to squelch the impulse to strangle the damn dog as I bring her into the house.  Afterall, I need her to think that coming to me is a good thing.

Ok, so both dogs go back in their crates, and I decide to make some coffee.  The girls are starting to stir anyway.  Much of the morning passes without incident.  The doctor says Neve probably is one of those kids with whom the heat does not agree.  No sign of illness or infection.  Keep her hydrated.  Easy enough.  So I pack the girls into the car to go get some gatorade and lunch.  Just as we are approaching the store, Neve pukes.  Really big time all over puke.  Emily screams.  I have no way to clean this up – no towels, napkins, zero.  I can’t go into the store and leave her in the car, but I can’t take her into the store either.  It’s a half hour drive home from Charlottesville.  Thank goodness the smell isn’t so bad.

Half an hour later we are home.  Neve, meanwhile, has fallen asleep in her puke filled car seat.  I strip her out of it as best I can and carry her into the house – smearing it all over myself in the process.  She does not wake up as I bring her into my bedroom and peel off her clothes.  Nor does she stir when I wrap her in a towel.  I get her mostly cleaned off and decide to let her sleep.  I’ll wash the sheets later.

I get about an hour’s reprieve.  Emily and I  put in Futurama and split a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Vermonty Python.  It’s lunchtime, afterall.

Then I hear Neve calling from upstairs.  Little miss diarrhea has struck again.  More poop for me to clean!!!!!

Most of the rest of the day I spend cleaning.  I give Pippa a bath, then clean the bathrooms.  Something about diarrhea in the house makes you feel gross all over.  The girls fight and make it hard for me to get anything accomplished.  There was about 20 minutes where I sat and watched Futurama with the girls.  The one with the bad Santa.  At one point Neve exclaimed “Yay!  Santa’s dead!!!” So maybe I shouldn’t so much let my kids watch it…….

By bed time I am completely worn out.  But, Pippa is clean and has only pooped once in the house (in the office, and it was NOT diarrhea, thank goodness).

Neve, Sadie and I snuggle into bed and I end up takeing meds at about 2 am for a migraine.  At 7 this morning I am up and getting everyone ready.  I get dressed for work and take Sadie out.  I go to get my two idiots, and there’s Pippa, fully poop caked and stinking to high heaven.

I have to be to work by 8.

I don’t have time for this.

Last night I got home with the girls looking forward to relaxing after another soul sucking day at work.

Pippa had other plans.  She didn’t just poop.  She ground it into the bars of her cage.  She smooshed it all in her bedding.  She flung it in a 2 foot radius all aorund her crate.  The smell was noticeable as you climbed the stairs.  I took one look at her, tongue hanging out, tail wagging, poop ground into her fur, and burst into tears.

So anyway, out to the pen they went.  You see, the pen was “fixed” over the weekend , so they can’t escape.  What a LAUGH!  They were both out in no time!  But I couldn’t let Pip back in the house, because she was completely poopified.  So I rigged chicken wire as best i could to keep her in the damn pen.  Went back in the house.  Took FOREVER to clean the crate and carpet.  Pippa was howling the whole time outside.  Our neighbors aren’t too close, thank god for that!

So I FINALLY finished clenaing up this reeking nasty mess and by that time it was almost 8:00.

I took out the olive oil and fresh basil and stuff to make pesto for dinner and i heard Neve calling me.  That’s when I discovered that little miss diarrhea had struck again – in my bathroom.  It was all over the place, and all over her.

So, I wiped her down and ran a bath for both girls (since Emily was filthy from daycare).  Then I had to set about cleaning and disinfecting the bathroom.

So by 9:30 the house was relatively clean, the girls were clean and we were all very hungry.  And did I mention that i have to gt up at like 5;30 every monirng in order to get the kids and dogs coordinated and get to work on time?  And I am miserable on less than 8 hours sleep.

So my grumpy hungry little girls started fighting again.

I gave them cookies and sent them to bed.

And I was finally able to collapse at 10:30.

Will I ever get any free time?

Ok so I need to start keeping a running list of all the poop I clean up all the time.  And I mean literal poop, not figurative.

For those that know me, you know that I have to manage two small kids and two dogs (one’s a 2 month old puppy) and a full time job, basically by myself.  So what i describe here is basically typical of what I deal with as a pseudo-single parent.

Last Thursday I got home from work at 6:30 as usual after picking up the girls from daycare (they were filthy) and went to let the dogs out.  Pippa had pooped in her crate.  Fun.  So I carefully took her outside with Zelda following and put them in their outdoor pen.  I wish I could leave them in their nice big pen while I am at work, but some days it is too hot, and also, they have learned to escape it.    So I gathered the necessary cleaning supplies (all the while with two girls screaming at each other and fighting over toys and begging me for snacks) and head upstairs to clean up the poop.  That’s when i notice that Pippa is no longer in the pen.  Neither is Zelda.  So I go outside and Pippa is on the porch.  Zelda is gone.  I put Pippa in the house and after 20 minutes of calling and yelling and searching, I get Zelda to emerge from the woods (through the posion ivy patch) and into the house.

Back to the poop.  It takes me about half an hour to clean it all up.  As I am tying the garbage bag Ihear Emily yell from downstaris that Pippa had just pooped in the living room.  Great.

So, I sigh loudly and go downstairs to clean up THAT poop.

After it’s all clean, I feel nasty and gross.  So I go upstairs and clean myself up a bit, and while I am at it I figure I’ll clean up the girls’ bathroom so they can take a bath after dinner (if I ever get to dinner!).

So I spend another half hour cleaning their bathroom.  With Neve still potty training it gets pretty grungy.

Ten minutes later I have the bath water running and I call them to come take a bath (not waiting for dinner anymore…).  Neve is the first in.  She peels off her panties and says “I need have go potty”.  Ok, I tell her, the potty’s right there – go for it.  Well, she doesn’t make it.  Instead she has diarrhea all over the newly cleaned bathroom floor.  I clenaed it up.  I stuck themin the bath.  I fed them, sent them to bed, and then I had a big stiff drink.