If you guys even KNEW the level of absolute MAYHEM…
Since last night we have been smelling an awful smell, and couldn’t figure out where it was coming from.
We checked everywhere, we thought.
It was to no avail.
I take care of my infant granddaughter full-time, while her parents work, and
today, after my husband Justin had changed her diaper,
I noticed a big brown spot on the couch, and asked him if that is where he had changed her.
I thought maybe he’d not noticed he had gotten poop on it.
When he said no, he’d changed her on the other end of the couch, I furrowed my brow, and leaned down closer and smelled it.
Spoiler alert: Definitely poop.
But, if not the baby, where had it come from?
As we started looking, we found more and more spots, and that is when, divinely inspired,
Justin lifted up our dog Gimli’s tail, as he lay looking sheepish,
and I will spare the bulk of the details here, because I think you can imagine what he found there. (Like the worst lift-the-flap book ever to have existed)
Already late to pick up one of our daughters from school, however, Justin just grabbed Gimli and threw him outside until he could come back and we could work on *gestures in a circle* ALL THAT together.
While he was gone, I set about steam cleaning EVERYTHING the dog had touched.
The recognition set in that it had been there for at least several hours now.
(Thank God for access to a Bissel)
I set the baby in her high chair with a snack, and got to work steaming and sanitization spraying with Lysol.
Sweat was pouring into my eyes from how hard I was scrubbing.
The whole time I scrubbed, Gimli was throwing himself against the sliding glass door, kamikaze style, hoping to appeal to my gentle nature.
That dog is absolutely terrified of birds, and because of that, only likes to go out at night time.
I could tell by his level of panic he was just SURE he was about to die via Robin.
So, he is jumping,
The baby is making a giant mess,
and I am profusely sweating
when I notice a WASP has come into the house and is now flying around close to the baby.
At this moment, I did all I could think of,
and I sprayed the living fire out of that wasp with the hand nozzle of the steam cleaner, dousing it in the solution.
To my amazement, this plan worked seamlessly,
Only, I had now sprayed so much, and so wildly, I needed a towel to sop it, and had to grab one of our only ones available – a good one – straight out of the clean laundry freshly from the dryer.
Once Justin got home, we stood staring at each other for awhile, trying to come up with a plan of attack for how to best deal with Gimli.
No one tells you in marriage that 75% of your time will be coming up with some sort of “plan-of-attack” priority level.
There is no greater argument for only getting dogs with short hair than this exact kind of situation.
First, I put on elbow tall rubber gloves, and told him to go grab a bucket that I intended to use to soak Gimli, which he did, and filled in our kitchen sink,
only to lift it up afterwards and find that bucket was completely covered with tiny holes in the bottom.
He was now holding a veritable giant shower head, stunned, frozen, and spraying that 5 gallon bucket of water all over our kitchen.
The dog still jumped against the sliding glass door,
I still dripped sweat,
the baby still babbled.
Now every piece of furniture was wet from my steaming, and so was Justin, and the entire kitchen.
I grabbed ANOTHER fresh towel for the kitchen floor.
(Towel 2, if you are counting)
I got the baby down from her high chair because, at this point, she was squealing.
This action was something Justin questioned, and I would live to regret.
If only time was rewindable…
I set her up with a pile of toys, and went to help Justin, who was having, let’s just say…
a “bit of a moment,”
because once outside, he had noticed clumps of poop literally RIDDLING our backyard.
That dog must not have pooped for 2 months, or something to save up.
At least, that’s what our yard and patio looked like.
Justin pinned him down and I set to using my good kitchen scissors to…cut things free
while I simultaneously scrubbed at his backside.
The other utility scissors were nowhere to be found, because I have three children living here, so of course they weren’t.
As I set about this task, I thought then about the people I know who are currently doing things like being on tours of Europe, and eating Pastitio on cobblestone patios overlooking the glassy blue ocean.
Let me tell you,
It’s hard not to be bitter about the lives of others when your cute lemon patterned kitchen gloves are touching a dog’s butthole.
After much work, we felt satisfied to bring Gimli back inside for a full bath now,
and so I opened the screen to prepare that bath only to see the baby basically INSIDE the dog water bowl, completely drenched now.
The cute outfit I’d just put on her was literally dripping wet.
Cue towels #3 and 4.
I scooped her up, and she just grinned “Bababa” up at me.
“Bababa” means, “Why do you look like Jack Nicholsen, Grammy” in Baby.
We gave Gimli a bath as she banged pots and toys in the hallway.
Justin asked me if I should go check on her when we heard a crash, and I told him, no, that was just her playing with the Instapot in the kitchen. Women can tell these things. It’s like echolocation.
This kind of scenario gives the exact kind of look that makes it easy to detect if a woman has raised multiple children.
Bangs and thuds are no longer worrisome unless there is shrill crying afterwards.
Instapots become perfectly acceptable toys.
“Leave her to it. Perhaps she’ll have a cooking show.”
I never claimed to be Montessori.
The water to the bath was so nasty during the dog’s bath, I was already brain-storming what would need to happen for us to ever again use it;
And I bet you could have guessed that this is the moment when that bath tub decided to completely stop draining.
Justin and I looked at each other once again, except now in the way that, as the Titanic sank, Rose and Jack did in the movie.
The things we had to do to finish that bath and get that dog completely clean will forever remain in the vault, unuttered. We have a secret pact that goes BEYOND our graves, because I think even our ghosts will tear things up if one of us tattles.
To dry the dog, you also guessed it, we arrived at the 5th towel.
I think Justin was going towards the light at this point, because he had JUST done the laundry.
I thought about getting him a foil shock blanket based on the look in his eyes.
He used to complain when socks were just inside out.
Towel #6 was used to dry the floors following the dog leaping from the tub afterwards, (us unable to contain him) and he headed down the hall and shook himself everywhere,
including on the Instapot and the baby.
This is when my adult daughter showed up at the screen, waving at the baby with a smile like Miss Rachel.
“Hi Mavie! Did you have a good day?”
She did. Can’t you tell?
However, Justin and I might need counseling for it.
At this moment everything I own has been Lysoled, bleached, Cometed, and given to God.
I don’t think Justin will ever again question the kids of things I do here while he’s working.
Welcome to the Green house.
It’s a little like The House that Jack Built,
only everything is wet here,
and we are now out of towels.
Mom Outnumbered
Hi! My name is Kerri Green; Wife to Justin, and mother to four highly entertaining daughters -Alena, Chloe, Tessa, and Paige. I am an artist, a writer, a daycare provider, a lover of people, a believer that there is humor and beauty in all things, and the author of Mom Outnumbered; a blog about real family life, and my observations of it. My goal is to make people laugh, to be there for them when they cry, and most importantly, to let them know that they are not at all alone in this up and down world. I live with my family in Sebastopol California, and I am opening the window into our life. So welcome! Come in. Sit down. Just please don’t mind the mysterious wet spots.
