Tuesday, September 6, 2011

And This Is Why I'm Not a Parent...

Or you can also call this post "If You Shit on the Floor, You Better Be Able to Clean It!" This is one of the less pleasant adventures in domesticating...

Okay, so if you know me, you most likely know my position on having kids. I don't want to. I like hanging out with my friends'/family's kids, but they're definitely not coming home with me! Having 2 dogs is plenty of responsibility for another living being. Speaking of said dogs...One of them has gotten into a really bad habit the past week. If Danny's at work, and I take a shower, Bozz thinks it's a fabulous idea to shit on the floor. Now, I have the sense of smell of a bloodhound, so as soon as it happens, I know within seconds. And it's not like I'm gonna jump out of the shower, covered in lavender-scented suds so that I can hunt down the stank pile that I KNOW has appeared somewhere in the house, all "Where's Waldo?" style. Which means that the rest of my shower sucks because all I can smell is poop, and because I know I have to go clean it up. Grrrrrr.
Lesson number 1 of the day: I don't want to clean up any of the varied solids or liquids that can come out another being.

I also really like to sleep. I get cranky if I don't get enough sleep, I wake up easily, I want my body to be fully covered by the blankets and I will lose my shit if at any point in the sleeping process, I can't move my arms or legs. Now imagine a queen sized bed with 2 adult humans...and 2 full grown, 70 pound each dogs...who like to stretch out...and who want to be all up on you...and will flump their giant bodies down wherever suits their fancy, never mind if that happens to be on your knees or ankles or stomach. I am also fully convinced that they steal the blankets, because I get into an epic tug of war/pushing match with the dogs every stinkin night to try and get enough blankets/have more than an 18 inch wide sliver of bed.
Lesson number 2:  If your name isn't Amber or Danny, I don't want you in my bed.

And finally, I like well-behaved critters. I'm the "mean" parent, and I'm okay with that. You can play, but not all gladiator, growly wrestler style. Just because something is made of cloth, does not instantly make it your toy. You don't have to bark every time someone walks by the house. If I'm sitting on the couch, I don't want you to lay on top of me (As Bozz just came and nudged my computer out of the way so he could try to wedge half his body on my lap as I was typing that sentence...).
Lesson number 3:  Mama likes her peace and quiet and personal space.

Now, with that being said, I love the pups, and it's heartwarming when they snuggle up NEXT TO me, especially if I'm not feeling well. It's adorable when we go for a walk and Lola comes up and sticks her nose in my hand every few minutes, just so that I know she's still there. My heart melts a little each time they look at me with the "Mama, we love you, thanks for feeding/scratching/playing with us!" look in their puppy dog eyes. So, I'm all the parent I need to be with Bozz and Lola, but I'll tell you one thing...Bozz has earned himself a trip to his crate when I shower, because I damn sure won't be cleaning up any more shit off the floor!

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