Yesterday I awoke to a little foot full of poop stuck in my face.
"Moooooom! Wake up! It's a 'mergency! There's poop on my foot!"
While I scrubbed the crap from between his toes, Brennan informed me that his doggies had pooped in the family room. So while he enjoyed some milk and TV in my warm snuggly bed, I scrubbed dog diarrhea out of the family room rug and followed some little poopy footprints around the rest of the house armed with my spray bottle and paper towels. Thank God for tile floors.
Then the brothers woke up with giant diapers full of reminders of everything they had eaten the previous day. Once we were all cleaned up, we headed outside to play. I started picking up dog poop while the boys played in the gravel pit. 3 large dogs + a small backyard = lots of poop to pick up in order to avoid messes. But of course, Kiernan managed to find a pile that I hadn't gotten to yet. A fresh pile, I might add; one that must have felt nice and squishy between his toes.
"Moooooom! It's a 'mergency! Brother is stepping in pooooooop! And he's laughing!"
2 trips to the bathroom to scrub shit from between little toes ... all before noon. All I could smell for the rest of the day was poop, no matter how much I scrubbed or lit candles or shoved kleenex up my nose. Whether I was wiping bottoms or not, I couldn't get the smell out of my nose. So I called the hubby and demanded that he rent a carpet cleaner on the way home and what little carpet and few rugs that we do have in our house were cleaned before the boys went to bed.
After the boys were in bed and the dishes were washed and the house was clean, I still smelled it. I headed to the shower to wash away the stank from the day and when it entertained the idea of shoving soap up my nose to wash it clean, it occurred to me that I'd written something about that before.
I searched my archives to find this post, written exactly one year to the day earlier than yesterday.
Apparently something about January 17 just STINKS.