Monday, October 5, 2009

Oh Poohey!

We are on a rotating schedule to maintain a poop-free yard and to insure that our two dauschunds, Sara and Goldie, receive fresh food and water every day. Each week one kid is in charge of food and water and my other son has to do poop duty. They have to unsoil the grass a couple times a week,(visitor pending), and the rule is that on Saturday the poop-picker-upper has to do a thorough clean up job before handing the dreaded poop utensils back to his brother. This system works for our family.

A few days ago, we were scrambling in the early morning, getting ready for school, taking care of dog duty and making lunches. Daniel announced, “It smells like poop!” he had moved on to practicing piano since his dog poop duty was complete. He declared twice while practicing "Michael Row the Boat Ashore,"  that he smelt something awful.

“Oh, Jeez," I thought, “One of the Wiener Sisters had an accident. I just know it was Sara, she thinks she can do whatever she wants with that Cattitude of hers. We have not had an accident in almost 8 months!”

I scan the area, particularly the big white carpet near to the piano for a fresh doggie load. No evidence is found on our white 8 X 10 shag. I regret buying that stupid rug every day of my post-house-fire life…. Overstock. Com sucked me in on a killer deal with a fabulously affordable sheik shag rug that I thought would bring my 1983 track house up to date. But it was a hasty horrible d├ęcor decision I must live with every day…. At least until my money tree starts blooming or house catches fire again. My Lesson learned? Never EVER utilize the color white where dogs and young boys are cohabitating.

“There is no sign of poop, Dan.” I declare.

I ignore the bad smell announcement, as I don’t stink a thing….it must be him. Minutes later, Daniel is in the den, and again he announces, “It smell like poop!”

Quickly examining the surrounding wood floors and huge rug ( Now it’s the other rug in shades of burnt orange and browns I am searching. All great color choices in this rug) I don't see, nor smell  anything  incriminating or suspicious.

My subconscious is moaning,” Go away poop smell, we do not have time for you.” I have no idea what his nose is picking up. I ponder.

“Daniel, did you brush your teeth this morning?” I suggest as I tuck the last PB&J in a lunch bag and run to the laundry room to pull out my cottons before they wrinkle.

Five minutes later Daniel is in his bedroom when he announces. “Mom, I smell poop!”

I am so puzzled at this point, but prefer to act like everything is normal. I truly CAN NOT smell anything out of the ordinary. Kids have such sensitive smellers, I think ….and then….

“Mom, there is some dog poop on my shoe.”

I walk to his bedroom, where he is sitting on his striped rug (Yet, ANOTHER other purchase that fits perfectly in his nine year old space and can hide many stains in its busy colorful stripes; great choice).

It is an understatement that he has SOME poop on his shoe, a result of his dog duties 20 minutes earlier. It looks more like he has lathered his bottom right shoe in dog doo, sort of bathed the undercarriage of his foot in it and then sensed the weight of something hiding underneath it and rubbed it over, and over onto the top of his left shoe, trying to scrape it off without knowing what was adhered….again he repeated the scuffing whatever it was off. It was two pounds of fresh daushcund wetness that now frosted both of his school shoes. I am positive that is what it was because I pulled a shoe off of his foot and pulled it into my nose in disbelief. I looked around my home and saw poop prints on my Overstock. Com rugs and in four different rooms. So he REALLY DID smell something that awful!

Suddenly, I had potty training flashbacks. Do you remember the first time your toddler went number two in his drawers and you earnestly tried cleaning them... thinking it was the right move to save the two dollars worth of Bob the Builder panties? That is the sort of routine a mother does ONLY ONE time because it is one of the most retched disgusting tasks she undertakes, then realizes that it is not worth the sensory torture. The next time it happens (and it does) , you toss the destroyed undies into a VONS bag and deliver them straight to the trash can.


There was NO WAY I was going to clean off these kiddie shoes I practically stole from Target 75% off, and try to salvage them at the risk of destroying my fragile nose and the next 24 hours of my life. (That is 24 precious hours that I can never reclaim.) Why just last weekend I ran these very shoes through the washer after Daniel returned from a weekend of swampy frog catching at camp. They returned a blackish-brown color. I was ready to toss the stupid cheap shoes, but my frugal husband gave me a guilt trip over giving up that easily. Engineers!!

Last week I did the best I could to resuscitate them . However, there is nothing I could do to save them now, they were on their own and heading straight to a VONS bag for an early death.

So the next time any child declares the stench of poop around him I a stopping in my tracks and taking off his shoes. It will be a much simpler sacrifice to delay making sandwiches and getting us out the door on time, than believing that ignorance is bliss.


Anonymous said...

Uck! I smelled poop after reading this! LOLOL.

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