It's Only 10:00 am

This morning I cleaned human poop out of my kitchen pantry and that's not even the worst part of the day.

We are working really hard at finally getting Benny potty trained. It still seems like failure most of the time. I really think he would do fine if his mother was more competent. I get busy and forget or I miss signs until it's too late and we have accident after accident.

This morning after breakfast, I let him play for a mere three minutes and then had him sit on the potty. He said he didn't want to try and wiggled off. So I set the oven timer for 5 minutes, which turned out to be one minute too long.

He was running around, peering in the pantry - I'm not sure why because as I said before, we just finished breakfast - when he yelled, "Bean go pee pee!"

"Ok, hold still, I'll come clean you up. Oh, you pooped too. That's ok, we'll try again."

Ben is upset. He's flailing and crying so I'm trying to be loving, encouraging, what the books say you're supposed to do. But like I said, he's very upset. So as I slide his Buzz Lightyear undies down his legs, he begins scissor kicking wildly flinging poop into my kitchen pantry. The you-know-what literally hit a fan.

Grrr! You essentially threw poop on our food. Thankfully it was just a box of Corn Chex that nobody likes and Brandy's dog food tin, but for crying out loud. Get a hold of yourself and do not fling poo. Never. Ever. Under any circumstance will it ever be ok to throw poop. And especially not where we keep our food!

Why is this so hard? Is it this hard for everyone? I feel like I either want to cover most of my house in tarps or keep Ben outside. I truly wish my mom was here, she could potty train a puppy in under a week. She would have had this all wrapped up by now.

As everything is cleaned up and I'm calming down, I make my signature mistake and say, "That is seriously nasty. I can't imagine anything more disgusting than poop in your pantry."

In literature this is called foreshadowing - the author gives hints about what's to come. I'm not sure why I compulsively doom my life with this little trick, but I always do.

I take the kids downstairs to play outside and find something even more horrendous - the small and large intestines of what I guess is a bunny. My only clue is the large patches of fur blowing in the breeze. Gary, the ruthless assassin, has stuck again... and now he's eating his prey.

Ben opens the door for Brandy and she starts sniffing it. We have to dispose of this quickly!

Chuck offers to help and gives me my choice of holding the bag or welding the pooper scooper. I choose the bag. As he picks it up, he says, "Ugh, it's heavy!" I lose it and start heaving. Chuck starts yelling, "Close your eyes! Close 'em now! You know that if you throw up, I'll throw up! Close your eyes!"

As I avert my eyes, I get a glimpse of my watch and realize that it's not even 10:00 am. Sigh. I don't want to live in my house anymore. Someone, please take me away from here with the all the poop and dead bodies.