Friday, July 11, 2008
I was fully prepared for the new relationship I would have with baby poop once Pepper arrived. In fact, I expected to be constantly talking about Pepper's poop, assessing Pepper's poop, and just generally obsessed with all of her heiny products. Having the expectation prepared me for it and helped me accept it. What I did not prepare for was the other poop I would be confronted with and how this other poop would slowly wear me down and threaten my fragile sanity.
When Husband and I got home from a long day out and about, we found the remnants of a Macaroni n' Cheese box distributed about the downstairs. Cheese powder was strategically ground into the carpet. One of our Jack Russell Terriers, Wilson, had discovered the box of food stuffs that I had neglected to remember to bring to a local food pantry. Apparently, Wilson had also found an old packet of seasoning to make Thai Fried Rice. Cleaning cheese powder out of the carpet would turn out to be the easiest part of the clean up job.
The fallout began when Wilson puked in our bed at around 2 am that night. The next morning, I came downstairs to find trails of diarrhea all over the living room carpet. I quickly discovered that it is very difficult to hold a one month old baby and scrub runny dog poop out of synthetic fibers. Pepper didn't like it very much either, actually. I finally gave up, sat down on the couch, held my baby and my nose, and quietly wondered if other mothers are thrown into a spiraling depression by the thought of their baby some day crawling around on carpet infested with petrified dog diarrhea. It certainly seems possible.