Poop Explosion!

Not me! The dog! Layla!

I start the day cleaning up behind my dog, and end the day on my hands and knees cleaning up behind my daughter Mallory.

It’s a Saturday – no kids to get ready for school. The fresh, wide open outdoors is waiting for me. “Run at least three miles,” I say to myself, “it’s early and still cool, a perfect time to run.”

But…as I step out of my bedroom, a familiar smell hits me. I want to deny it because I am just two minutes from my run. My girls are also upstairs and on the computer. When I ask if they can smell anything, the reply from all three is, “I don’t smell anything.” Then one of them says, “My nose has been stopped up for days.”

“Yeah…right!”

No one had dared to go downstairs because that would have meant having the responsibility of beginning the cleanup.

So, I start the march downstairs, beckoning the troops to follow. (Husband/Daddy feigns deep sleep and unawareness.) Even though Layla was in her crate when it happened, it's still a messy job. I’ll try not to be too graphic, but…her bed is thrown into the washer, the crate is taken outside and hosed down, part of the kitchen floor is cleaned, and Layla gets a bath.

I am determined to go for my run. It's almost an hour later and I've missed a guaranteed cool run, but I head out for my three miles. The temperature feels like it has risen ten degrees, but I still appreciate the workout/escape.

Now that I play tennis and ride horses (both are lessons), I have to run to maintain stamina to keep up with all the younger girls that I hang out with.

.

I digress.

Anyway, the day is mostly spent cleaning. Just as I am whining down to switch gears to dinner and leisure, Mallory throws up…on the family room rug. I gather the troops again to assign duties. Fast! Get the paper towels, a wet rag, a plastic bag, the Nature's Miracle!

As we’re cleaning, Mallory is now relieved and perky and chattering, but “I” know that it is too early to be a definite wrap. As she rests on the sofa, we put a couple of towels on the rug and the waste basket near by.

I eat my dinner, then take Layla out into the night air for her potty break. In the mean time, Mallory goes upstairs to go to bed. When I return, I’m thrust into a repeat episode – this time it’s the bedroom carpet. (Having to do this twice, my husband has lost his appetite.)

The little darling is showered, put into pajamas, and wrapped cozily in a sea of blankets on a sofa…in my(our) bedroom! Her daddy insures that a third rug and room will not get slimed by putting plastic under her and all over the floor surrounding the sofa, where she sleeps soundly through the most of the night (with the help of a little Tylenol). Whew!

What is the difference between a dog and a child? Okay…just kidding!