On Saturday evening I found poop on the living room rug. At least I thought it was poop. It was brown and smooshy and it smelled. It actually smelled like boo’s poop but I couldn’t figure out how boo’s poop would end up on the living room rug, so I started exploring other options: dog poop? Mine and boo’s shoes were clean. Cat poop? When did they do it? Why didn’t I see them do it? Since when do they poop in the house? I cleaned it up, put boo in my lap to talk to his dad on Skype and noticed that some of the poop had gotten on his pants and then looked around the room and noticed he’d tracked it across the floor to the back door, too. We said good night to daddy and went to get boo out of his poopy clothes. That’s when I discovered that it was indeed boo poop. His diaper was askew and his legs were covered in the stuff, so it was logical that a piece had escaped his diaper, slid down his leg and landed on the living room rug.
Disgusting, but logical.
I dumped him into the tub. Didn’t even fill it, just kept the water running and soaped him up with my hands, so I wouldn’t have to dirty a washcloth. Got him all sparkly and new, diapered him, put him in PJ’s, nursed him, placed him into his crib exhausted, and went to scour the living room floor and rug.
That was Saturday night.
On Sunday morning, I woke up to find that Jack, the cat, had puked up a hairball right on top of the little table where boo eats. I know he likes to sit on it, but usually I forget to turn it upside down to avoid such possibilities. The hairball was long and skinny and green, resembling a big, gross, wet poop. I stuck the whole table in the kitchen sink, ran hot water on it and scrubbed it with a dish scrubber until it was clean-ish.
About an hour later, boo somehow managed to dislodge the top of the cup he was drinking fruit smoothie out of and spilled a whole cup of green slop all over the kitchen floor. I mopped it up with a rag.
This morning—now we’re on Monday—there was another hairball, not on the couch where the cats usually spit up, not even on boo’s table, but on the blue hat Harlan got me for Mother’s Day, which had been lying on the bench of our coat rack, but was now mysteriously on the floor covered in green, syrupy, poop-like hairball puke. I know I’ve neglected the cats a bit since I gave birth to and became obsessed with my son, but that was downright passive-aggressive—or just plain aggressive aggressive? The only upside was that due to the smooth, waterproof nature of the hat and the dried-out, crusty nature of the hairball, it washed right off. So I don’t have to find out if the hat is machine-washable or not.
I forgot to take pictures of the poop, the first hairball and the green smoothie, but remembered to photograph this morning’s little treat. That said, I decided it was too ugly to post here, so instead here’s some sweetness to wash out the bitter stench of this post.