Dog poop and Gaza

I know, right? Just stay with me. Although, I should warn you up front that this post will contain a lot of references to poop. If you have an aversion to that type of thing, or if you're about to eat meat loaf for dinner, perhaps you should go find another corner of the world wide web to explore and try my blog another day.

If, however, you're a mom like me, or someone else who for whatever reason deals with crap on a regular basis, read on because I do have a point. It just may take a while to get there.

If I were to make a list of reasons today was a really crappy day, the list would begin something like this:

1. Found out at 8 am (while the boys were eating breakfast, I was not dressed, and Lauren was still sleeping) that David needed me to follow him to the auto shop and then take him to work. And pronto.

2. Spent hours this morning taking Hearsay (the dog) outside in an effort to somehow bribe, cajole, beg, or otherwise convince him that outside, not the hall outside the guest bathroom as apropos as that may seem, is the appropriate place to poop . . . and that he should do this before he had to be kenneled for three hours while I would be gone later. No luck.

3. Took the boys to Chik-fil-A to kill time between school and piano lesson. During the 50 minutes I was there, I took a child to the bathroom on three separate (long) occasions. I'm pretty sure I spent a total of 11 minutes actually sitting at the table.

(Of course, one of these bathroom trips was Ethan, which is an ordeal all unto itself. Given his inability to sit still (yes, he was sitting . . . after all this post is mostly about poop, remember), he constantly triggers the automatic flusher. I didn't put anything over it because I told him if he would just SIT STILL, it would stop flushing, but . . . this is Ethan we're talking about. It flushed three times while he was sitting on it.)

4. Here's my favorite: Upon arriving home from piano, it became instantly apparent that Hearsay did what we were told a dog would not do. He pooped in his kennel.

To make things worse, we don't know exactly what breeds he's a mix of, but if there was one called Goes Into a Super-Frenzy and Acts Like He's Being Drawn and Quartered Every Time His Owner Leaves the House, I believe that would be his dominant breed.

You know how kennels have those plastic slide out trays at the bottom? He manages to get so worked up that he slides the tray out of the kennel almost every time we leave. Fortunately, said tray is usually not covered in crap. Today it was, and consequently, said poop was not only on the plastic tray but also the floor, the baseboard, and somehow the wall. Apparently, he can fingerpaint.

5. While I was online griping to a friend about what Hearsay did, my completely potty trained 3 year-old came up to me and said, "Mommy, I got stinky on my hand." No, it was not the dog's; it was hers. Pooped in her pants and tried to "fix it" herself.

Seriously, did I somehow seem crap-deprived when I woke up this morning??!!

The list could go on, but I think you get the idea. I was having, from my perspective at the time, a really annoying, crappy (pun intended) day.

Then I had a perspective shift.

I found myself unexpectedly at home alone eating dinner at 6:30. (The kids had spur-of-the-minutely gone to Renae's for a bit.) I rarely watch the news, but since I was sitting there alone with no little ones to observe my vice, I decided to turn the television on while I ate.

That's when I saw Gaza.

Now, I'm no foreign policy analyst. I won't express an opinion about what's going on in the Middle East right now and who's right or wrong. But, I do know one look at Gaza was all it took.

Four minutes of a story on the world news, and suddenly I knew I would gladly relive this crap-filled day every day for the rest of my life. Watching a father weeping that his wife had been killed and that he couldn't find his two young daughters.

Rockets and bombs and smoke and fire.

I'll take dog poop over that any day. Suddenly, I feel like I had a very good day. Very, very good indeed.

Resolutions

1. I will wear at least one outfit a week that does not involve my white layering cami underneath. I seem to have a pathological need for a small layer of white to peak out from underneath all of my shirts.

2. I will eat at least one lunch a week that does not involve peanut butter.

3. I will shower on a regular basis. Don't worry; I do mean more than once a week, but let's face it, daily ain't happening.

4. I will shave both legs on the same day at least once . . . during 2009.

5. I will be on time . . . at least once a week.

6. I will invent a shopping cart with power steering, a pivot ball (like on a Dyson vacuum), and running boards on the sides to better hold numerous children.

7. I will shop less. (This is me trying to make that sound like a choice I'm making based on my own volition and self-control rather than the fact that we're moving to David's hometown, where I'm pretty sure Dollar General is the only available shopping venue.)

8. I will take down my Christmas decorations before Easter. And, I WILL label the boxes this year!

9. I will clean out under my bed. Before we move because that would be cheating, I guess. I think there may be an undiscovered third-world country under there.

10. I will refrain from rolling my eyes at or speaking sarcastically to my husband . . . at least once a week. You didn't think I meant ever, did you? What am I, Mother Teresa?

11. I will daily remind myself that I would trade showers, punctuality, adult lunches, fashion, and shaved legs in a heartbeat for the three precious children that are right now curled up on the couch watching Star Wars with David and the dog. (They should be in bed, but there is a thunderstorm, and knowing who the softy on our parenting team is, they went to David first.)