Friday, June 19, 2009

Why would anyone want THAT title?

Warning: The post that follows is about poop. The squeamish should move on to other reading (please come back another day when more pleasant topics will be covered)…

Many of you know that before we moved here, we had a yellow lab named Sammie. She was a great dog (she still is, she just happens to be someone else’s great dog). Sammie absolutely adored Mike. And I think she just tolerated me because I happened to come with the man that she adored (plus I gave her food). There is one thing that Sammie saved just for me because I was special to her. Whenever she had to poop, she would come to me to take her out. I came to be known as the Poop Lady. There was no crown, no money, no parades in my honor. Really the title came with no perks at all!

When my girls met last November, I think Sammie may have shared this information with Emily:

On Tuesday, I ran some errands after dinner. I got back just in time to give Emily a bath. Mike was leaving to go to the church (we had VBS this week and he had van duty). Emily was in her chair playing with her toys and I noticed an odor. I figured I would have to change her diaper before bathing her. No big deal, right? WRONG! I got the bath stuff ready and then came out to get her. I put her on the changing pad, removed her shirt and shorts and then went to throw them in the hamper, when I noticed something. Her shirt was covered in poop! You know the shirt that I just pulled OVER HER HEAD. In the 30 seconds that it took me to realize what was happening, Emily was squirming away on the changing pad. You know what that means? She was covered! The changing pad was covered! Oh the horror!

At that point, I realized the normal diaper changing routine was NOT going to cut it. I picked her up (keeping her as far away from me as possible) and put her in the tub, where I proceeded to power-wash her gingerly clean her. After she was all squeaky clean, I then had to deal with the rest of the situation. I did a load of laundry and then scrubbed down her bath chair and the entire tub with disinfectant. Then I had to prepare her feeding pump and get her ready for bed. When Mike got home, Emily was on the couch and I was running around the kitchen looking like a lunatic, I have no doubt!

I told Mike that there was an incident that I hoped never to see again and that I didn’t want to hold the Poop Lady title anymore. Parenting (of dogs or children) sure isn’t for the faint of heart!


Anonymous said...

I have laughed this whole blog (sorry, I still sympathize-"Poop-Lady"). You should be a writer. You're hilarious!

(Glad you didn't show any pictures with this post)



Kerrie said...

I don't really know why I think this is funny, I HATE it when it happens to me - it actually did this week too! Why do our children save all the good stuff for Daddy and the work for us Mommies? On the brightside - she's not constipated!!