We finally have a house! After almost three years of our old house being on the market, a year of nightmarish renting, and close to two months of living with my in-laws while Adam lived at the restaurant, we finally have a place to call home. Our family could not be happier.
We were so happy, I gave in to my husband's and kids' request for a dog. Why wouldn't I say yes? I'm a 35 year old pregnant lady with 9 kids and a husband who lives at work, it made perfect sense to get a 12 week old nervous puppy who needed potty trained in the middle of winter.
Dream. Come. True.
Ok, that's a lie.
In truth, Belle is a very good dog. She's wonderful with the kids. The little boys poke her, pull her tail, roll over her, and flop on top of her all the time, and she lets them. What makes me absolutely crazy is potty training.
She just doesn't seem to get it. I could take her out and she could do her business, but it seems like she has a full reserve set aside for in the house. If she sees a blanket on the ground, she runs directly over and pees on it. When Adam or Marky look at her she lets out a little sprinkle. If they pet her, the flood gates are opened and she sits in her massive puddle wagging her tail, throwing pee to either side of her. If Adam picks up a leash, pee. Someone new comes to the house, pee. I leave and come back, pee. Constant. Pee. I live on my hands and knees with a roll of paper towels and cleaner.
The pee doesn't bother me as much as the poop. I can't stand the poop! Belle doesn't poop in the house if I'm in the same room as her, but if she can get away from me for a second and goes anywhere near the toy room or the back wall in the fireplace room, she poops. It makes me crazy!
One morning, I took her out. We came in and she took off running for the toy room. I chased her in, and sure enough, she was pooping on the floor. I picked her up and ran her back outside where she pooped even more. When we came in I thought she would be good. No. A half an hour later I found her pooping in the fireplace room, right beside Adam's laptop.
Later that day, I retrieved Adam's computer. When I got it to the table I smelled something gross. I looked down to see dog feces on my shirt. Apparently, she had gotten some on Adam's laptop and I didn't see it until it was smeared all over me.
If I only had to deal with dog poo, it may not be so bad, but I have three kids that are still either potty training or in diapers. That night, I was trying to take Hawk's poopy diaper off. He wasn't having it. When the diaper came off, he contorted his body to where he was able to wipe his butt on my pants. At this point, my whole days attire had been defiled.
This would have been enough for anyone in a single day, but not me. I can never get enough!
Rex is doing pretty well potty training, but he hates when he gets a little dribble of pee on his pants, so he changes them constantly. This day he had run out of pants and resorted to a pair of shorts. I was in the kitchen when he found me.
"Mommy, I pooped on the floor."
"You pooped on the floor?"
He nodded, "come here."
He led me to the toy room, and sure enough, there was a big ball shaped turd on the rug. (Of course, it had to be on the rug and not the hard wood floor 3 centimeters away!) He had pooped and it fell out of the bottom of his shorts. Gross.
I sighed. "It's ok buddy. I'll clean it."
I walked into the kitchen and got the paper towels and cleaning spray. I came back in and looked down. The poop was gone.
What in the world? Where did it go? I thought to myself. I noticed something move out of the corner of my eye. I glanced over to see the dog standing on the other side of the room with Rex's turd in her mouth. I gasped, "No!"
When our eyes met, she jumped down into her "chase me" stance. "No, no, no, no!" I know they told me not to tell the dog "no", but that was all I was able to say. She took of running through the house, thrashing her head from side to side. I chased her all through the house until she flung it from her mouth, landing on more carpet. (Did I mention there are only two carpeted rooms in our house? What are the odds?)
Lesson 188: playing fetch with a ball made of human feces = white trash
I called Adam that night and told him I had reached my limit. "This by far, has been the "crappiest" day of my life."
"I'm sorry honey, I'll plug everyone's butt when I get home."
Oh, if only!
