Not For The Squimish

I had a tough morning.

The morning came after a particularly rough night, one Nate spent in bed with me, crying and throwing up and falling off the bed. So we got off to a late start.

When Nate woke up, it turned out he had wet the bed. Accidents happen. And Andy's diaper had leaked. So I changed Andy, stripped the sheets and threw them in the wash while I fed the boys breakfast. Four minutes after the wash cycle began, I realized Andrew had had his own messy accident. Yuck.

So I changed Andrew and rinsed out his pants and underwear. Fast forward to an hour later, as I step out of the shower. I hear Nicholas shouting "Mom! I need you NOW!"

I stand there, dripping and irritated and already sweating in the heat, "WHAT?"

"Andy pooped in his pants and there's pee on the stairs and Andy has poop on his hands!"

I grab a towel and leave wet footprints on my rug. I pick up Andy, at arm's length bring him to the bathroom. I strip him, plop him in a warm bath, once again rinse out poopy clothing. I step into the hallway. "Nick, where is the poop?"

No one is in the hallway. Except Gunther. Who is licking his chops.

Dogs are So Gross. So, so very revolting.

After I hunt down the step with the puddle of pee on it, clean out the bathtub, chase down Andy and force him into his third change of clothing for the day, it is 10am.

10AM, and I am already done.