one of those days.

We all have them. You know the type. When it rains . . . it pours. I suppose I’d rather have days like these (mama said we’d have days like these) – where if things are going to go wrong, just let them all happen at once. Then perhaps I’m assured some peaceful days in return.

Today was one of those days.

One of those days you end up Googling something that you never would have dreamed of Googling before you became a parent . . .


Spoiler alert: it wasn’t glass.

It started as a normal day. Charlie babbling in his crib at 6:30 AM on the dot.

But, he woke with a full on runny nose that started as sneezes and sniffles the day before. I thought to myself how hard he’ll be to chase around with Kleenex.

So, I got him cleaned up and brought him downstairs to play, I let the dogs out, and went about my morning routine of washing baby bottles, making coffee, putting the dogs’ breakfast out. Charlie was keeping himself busy with his bucket of toys and doing his laps around the living and dining room, so I brought my coffee into the living room to hang with him. I was sorting through some email when everything turned to shit.


I hear Charlie whining. I turn to find him sitting under the dining room table, which is one of his favorite places to crawl under and not unusual for him to decide he wants me to come get him. But, as I go to grab him, I realize something is off. His hands. They are covered in something.



Please please please don’t be what I think it is, yet I know there is no way it can be anything else . . .

I peek behind him and his feet and legs are covered, too.

I look at the carpet and there it is.

Dog crap.


My dog, Carly, apparently had an upset stomach. Couldn’t hold it overnight and went on the dining room floor. I didn’t notice it. I hadn’t smelled anything. (Is my nose THAT desensitized to smells since becoming a mom?!)

Unfortunately, Charlie had.

I carefully peeled Charlie out from under the table, trying not to make the mess worse, and raced him up to the bathroom.

I drew him a bath and plopped him in and inspected the damage . . . thankfully not a trace on his face . . . WHEW. Good boy!

I scrubbed him head to toe three times.

I got him squeaky clean and got him in his highchair to have a snack while I assessed the rest of the damage. I ran to the laundry room to get the supplies necessary to combat the situation when I discovered more of the mess from Carly. This one was all over a king size quilt. I didn’t even want to deal with it, so I scooped the entire blanket and put it right in the garbage in the garage.

The next hour was spent juggling Charlie and the mess.

Mid-morning a contractor showed up to quote some work on the house since we’re getting ready to put it on the market. When he came to the door, Reiley decided to dart out and go greet a dog and his owner down the street – so I have to dart out, carrying Charlie, to run and get him.

When I get back into the house, THAT’S when I can smell the dog shit. Wonderful. I’m that person. I cross my fingers hoping the contractor either doesn’t smell it, or if he does, I hope he thinks it’s my baby and not my carpet. (Sorry, Charlie.)

The rest of the day carried on about the same.

At one point I took a huge stumble over a baby gate and pulled something in my hip.

My mom popped in early afternoon so I could run some errands without having to take Charlie out. But, not any fun kind of errands. Divorce kind of errands that kept “crappy” the theme of my day.

The one bright side to my day . . . Charlie . . . he’s at that age now where he comes to get comfort now. And because he wasn’t feeling well, he’d periodically stop playing and climb into my lap and want his back rubbed while he rested his head on my shoulder.

There’s absolutely nothing that compares to that feeling. When he’s sick, I’m always going to be the one he wants and asks for first.

That’s what being a mom, what days like these, is all about.

And I’ll always be there for him, ready to make everything better, even when he’s literally covered in crap.

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