A crappy day
My dog died yesterday. I found her curled up by the fence at about 7:45 p.m. At around 8 p.m. last night, my honey was out in our dust bowl of a backyard trying to jackhammer out a burial spot for our dearly departed Slammie-girl.

While the man attempted to hack out a grave, I was inside trying to console myself by doing some busy work with the kiddies. I put the 22 month old on the pottie, so she could pretend to make poopie while unrolling an entire roll of toilet paper.

Since I had the toddler trapped on the toliet, I made my way to the kitchen table to put the eight-year-old to work on his styrofoam model of the solar system. I had him just about ready to go to work on his own, when I hear the "no potty" call from the toddler. I went to unravel her from her toilet paper wrapping.

Since pottie time was finished, I stripped her down to put her in the tub and then started running her bath water. I didn't think I needed to wrap a diaper on her only to take it off in less than five minutes. So, the naked toddler and I went to finalize things in the kitchen so the boy could work while I bathed her.

The boy and I are standing facing the kitchen table with the toddler tooling around behind us. We hear the sickening sound of a splat which could not be mistaken for anything other than the sound of liquid poo hitting the floor. Yes, the toddler squirted diarrhea all over the kitchen floor and the backs of our legs. The toddler, intrigued by the sound behind her, is turning back and forth, trying to figure out what has happened. As she does this, the end of the blanket she always keeps in tow, is drug back and forth through the puddle of liquid poo. The eight-year-old doesn't help the situation. In between his screams of "gross, get it off," he makes dry heave sounds. I'm thinking "great." What could be better than cleaning up liquid poo? How about cleaning liquid poo and vomit?! Woo-hoo, sign me up!

My dog is dead. I have poo splatters on my leg. I'm standing beside an eight-year-old who's going to spew vomit all over me if I don't clean his legs off immediately. And, I'm about to hear a toddler's shrill, ear-drum-busting scream because I have taken away her beloved, poo ridden blanket. Life is good.