My 1st Drill After Retirement: Poopapalooza & Other Fun Happenings

A good friend of mine often comments, after reading some of my stories, “Care,” (that’s what he calls me) “Care, your family should be a freaking sitcom.”  I always laugh it off, but this morning?  Let me tell you, this morning would have made one hell of a hilarious episode.  Not so much for the actors, but seriously, people… I couldn’t make this shit up:

I am officially retired from the Air National Guard and this morning marks my very first non-drill day.  Unfortunately, my husband is still enlisted, so when the alarm went off at 4:15a to signal the start of his day, my day began as well.  I laid in bed willing myself back to sleep while he got ready: Come on!  You can do it!  You have to take advantage of this!!   No dice.  So, I threw on a grumpy face, launched off the covers, and shuffled my way to the shower as Marty left for work.

As I attempted to wash my grumpiness down the drain with scalding hot water, I heard a distinct sound that could have only meant one thing.  BOOM!  BOOM!  BOOM!  The five-year old kicked open the bathroom door.  With wild bed hair and a crazed look in her eye Mackenzie exclaimed, “The dog pooped in my room and I stepped it in.”  Jesus.  I hurried through my shower, instructing Kenzie to grab a baby wipe and clean off her feet as best as she could.  “But I stepped in the poop with my socks, Mama,” she informed me.  “I took them off and left them in my room.”  Thank God for small miracles, but still…

I go to get dressed and find that every single pair of my pants/leggings is in the wash.  Every last pair, except…  We all have that one pair.  The back-up.  The ugly as sin, but too comfy to toss pair.  My back-up pair of leggings happens to be this God-awful black and white pattern that looks like a cross between a Halloween-theme and tire tracks.  The only time I wore these things out in public was when I had to pick my daughter up from daycare.  What I thought was a cool, funky look, earned confusion and some upturned noses by the daycare instructors.  Today, however, these atrocities were my savior.  I grabbed a t-shirt and donned an old pair of lime-green and florescent-pink running shoes, and headed to the scene of the crime.

The smell of dog shit about knocked me on my ass as I walked into Kenzie’s room.  Xena didn’t just poop on her floor.  The dog fucking annihilated her room.  There was no way that this amount of fecal matter had come out of my eight-pound Chihuahua!  My cries of disgust must have lured my ten-year old son Jameson out of bed.  “Eww, gross!!” he exclaimed from the doorway. Ever try cleaning up something gross when someone is telling you how gross it is?  Yeah, it only makes it worse.

“Good morning buddy.  <gag>  Uh, Xena had a little accident. <gag> Could you please go help Kenz get some breakfast <gag> while I clean this up?  Also, don’t forget to brush your teeth!”  <almost lost it on this one… shit smell + the thought of a toothbrush = uncontrolled dry heaving>  Determined to not let Poopapalooza ruin my day, I set to work.  A bottle of Lysol, a whole roll of paper towels, and a thorough steam-cleaning later, I was satisfied that the shit storm was over and went upstairs.

The ten-year old had decided to let the five-year old make her own breakfast: a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with a glass of milk.  Mackenzie sat happily eating her breakfast as I took in the aftermath…. Peanut butter and jelly were smeared all over the cabinets and countertops, milk was splashed on the counter and floor, and crusts of bread were discarded haphazardly all over the kitchen.  Since when in the fuck has my child become a no-cruster?!  Sigh.

Whoops!  It was now 6:20 am, and time for me to log onto my work computer to start my day.  Only the fucking VPN wouldn’t connect.  I have never sweet-talked an inanimate object as much as I have until today.  Finally, finally I was connected and answered emails and ran reports until it was time to walk the kids out to the school bus.

Remember those sweet-ass leggings that I was wearing?  Yeah, so will the out-of-town contractors who stopped by the bus stop this morning to ask for directions.  “Excuse me, Ma’am?”  he leaned out of his driver’s side window as I slowly turned around.  Old mascara, that I didn’t have a chance to wipe off before the Fecal Festival clean-up, unruly hair thrown in a bun on top of my head, and the glorious outfit I was wearing will surely be burnt into his brain forever.  I am pretty sure the sight of me scared the shit out of this dude; I heard him gasp and the other riders in his truck snicker before he squealed tires out of there.

My day couldn’t get any worse at this point, right?  Wrong.

I went back inside, finally grabbed my first cup of coffee for the day (like, seriously, how was I even functioning?), and worked for another hour or so before the hunger pains started to distract me from my work.  I figured a smoothie would be the quickest way to get nourishment and get back to work.

Boy, was I wrong.

I added frozen pineapple, kale, flax seeds, chia seeds, bee pollen and water to my smoothie bottle, screwed on the blade attachment, and locked the bottle into the blender base.  My Black & Decker Smoothie Maker has probably been the best $20 I  have ever spent, but this baby is no Ninja Blender.  It usually takes a few minutes to blend my concoctions into a thick, smooth drink.  I rushed around the kitchen, multi-tasking, tossing pieces of bread crust here, spraying and wiping down the counter there.  At the same exact time that I noticed a peculiar green dot of liquid on the countertop, I felt several more drops hit the back of my arm.  The vibration and the shitty-ass suction cups on the bottom, allowed the blender base to bounce around on the countertop, unscrewing the blade attachment from the bottle as it went.   Green smoothie was launched all over my countertops, cabinets, walls, floors, and me by the time I was able to hit the off switch.

All of this before 8:30a this morning.  When I walked into the bathroom and happened upon the fake dog poop that my kids had fun with on April Fool’s Day, I just about lost my shit.

I did nine loads of laundry over the course of my day.  Nine.  How in the fuck does that even happen?  We have two adults, two children, one cat, and one dog with severe intestinal distress living under one roof.  All of the laundry had been completed just five days ago.  Nine loads.  Okay, so I found out later that Mackenzie had launched her covers off this morning as well, however, right into a pile of dog shit.  So add a complete set of bedding and towels to clean up my Smoothie Disaster to the mix, but nine?

This morning was one of those days where you could just crawl back into bed and start the whole thing over again.  I have to admit that my afternoon has improved, but I have a list of chores/errands a mile long to accomplish tonight.  Time will only tell… My first non-drill day will definitely go down in history as being a memorable day, but one I hope to never have to repeat!

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