S**t Happens

I would bet that every Momma out there has had their fair share of crap to deal with (literally). And this lucky Momma has experienced so many poo-tastrophes it's inevitable that at least a few incidents should feature on this blog! Actually it's pretty astounding that I've held back from mentioning the word poo until now.

It didn't start with babies. When we first moved over to Texas and settled onto our land we decided we needed a dog. And boy did we score a fabulous dog. Hands down I wouldn't trade her for the world. In spite of her delicate tummy and bouts of diarrhea that would turn the most hardiest of stomachs. My hubbie had never been part of the doggie do-do clean up team until last week. Finally the lady did protest enough. This pregnancy has had my snout in overdrive and so my Knight in Shining Armour took care of business (what a guy).

OK, so not to give too much to the guy. He's fortunate to only have had the odd one or two splatter piles to shift; one out on the deck, the other on the laminate floor. It's been my great misfortune in the past to have to clean the nasty substance from cushions and rugs. The worst ever find was 6 plate size diarrhea splodges coating the carpet in the Thomas Room. The episode prompted the purchase of the Bissell carpet cleaner and we have never looked back. That little sucker has cleaned up more animal and human waste than you would believe.

I almost forgot to mention her dribble diarrhea incident all the way across our Sister-in-Laws living room carpet.. That was particularly lovely and not at all embarrassing. I wasn't actually the one who got to clean that chocolate trail up (sorry SIL). They've got lovely hard wood flooring in their living room now. Nothing to do with our pooch of course. It was their wascally wabbit that sealed that deal...

I digress. Once I start rehashing these crappy encounters more spring to mind. Like there was this other time in the Thomas room.....

It was actually Christmas morning 2011. Our eldest (he was 15 months old at the time) had already opened his gifts from Santa and had wandered into the bedroom to play with his toys. I wasn't far behind him. I can't remember what my hold up was. Most likely I was refilling my coffee mug before following the little guy into his room.

It took a moment or two for me to process the scene before my eyes. Our baby was happily sitting there among all his toys, chewing on what looked like a mini Cuban cigar. It was in fact a piece of dog terd. And he had it stuck on his teeth like a bit of prune. My husband's dad and stepmom had brought their little toy dog over the previous evening and we had all been blissfully unaware of the present he'd left for our little un. As far as the boy was concerned he'd struck gold and that piece of poo was going down pretty much the same way a candy cane would have.

Ahhh. Nothing like a dog log in your baby's mouth to kick off Christmas Day.