a day that I cussed a lot

Yesterday was a doozie.

Boston woke up early, which means he whined and cried all morning.

Naomi was her usual self, which means she whined and cried all morning.

I was my usual self, which means I was stressed and anxious for John to come home.

Naomi knocked over a tub of diaper rash ointment on my couch.

Boston dumped out a box of rice crispies.

Naomi pooped through her first outfit.

Boston took off his own diaper in his crib after his nap.

Come 4:00 pm when I finally made it to the shower, I locked the kids in my room with me while I got ready for the day ?? or what was left of it.

Come 5:oo pm when I opened the door of my bedroom and smelled poop.

Dog poop.

Lots of stinky dog poop.

Somewhere in my house.

Leaving crying Naomi on my bed upstairs, I take whiney Boston downstairs with me to investigate.

We found the poop. A big fat pile of it in my family room. On my carpet.

At this point, I'm so upset I could never even share the words I used. I'm hoping they were only in my head or under my breath so my son didn't hear (they probably weren't)

I put Boston out side the back door and gave him the hose to keep him occupied while I figured out a way to clean this vile mess.

Naomi is still screaming upstairs.

I get enough poop out of the carpet to get the carpet cleaner out of the kitchen and see what I can do about the stain (this was runny poop, mind you, it left a mark to say the least)

While my back is turned, in comes Boston to the family room holding the hose, on full blast.

On my carpet.

Lots more 4 letter words were said.

I run to grab the hose and throw it outside and my panic startles Boston to join in on Naomi's ongoing hysterics from upstairs.

Then there were tears all around.

I couldn't take it anymore. The poop, the crying, the FLOODED family room.

This mom had had enough.

I called John and between my sobs I told him "I can't clean up poop (but I might have called it something else) all day long in diapers just to clean it off my carpet from a stupid dog..." or something like that.

He told me he was coming home.

I cried as I tried to towel up the pool that was my carpet and scrubbed the poop stain.

John walked in the door 10 minutes later to me sobbing over the floor and Boston crying in the corner and our baby crying upstairs.

It was a complete and utter disaster.

I was a disaster.

John sent me away and I told him that if I didn't come back it was his fault he convinced me to leave in the first place.

It took an hour or two, but I eventually felt ready to come home.

Other than that break, I can't share any other redeeming qualities about that day - because I really don't think there were any.

The moral of the story is that I love my husband for understanding that I'm struggling with 2 babies and he loves me anyway.

Oh, and if anyone wants a lab... Kali is for sale.