The worst day...

Today has been one of the worst days I have ever had as a parent. Just terrible. The funny thing is, people often say, "how do you do that?" Meaning how do I work anywhere from 20-32 hours a week (night and day shifts both) and take care of three kids 4 and under. The answer is: I don't do it well. My house is filthy, my kids are filthy, my dog is filthy. I am pretty sure I could use my dog's toenails to carve a turkey this Thanksgiving because I cannot remember the last time we had a free Saturday to take her to the groomer. There are days I look at everyone and think, "When did they last have a bath? When did MOMMY last have a bath?" I am sure that if you have more than one child in diapers you know this rule, but if one kid poops, they ALL poop. On cue. And right now, with Mal in a cast, I am wiping three small butts. Several times a day. You know how claustrophobic people say they feel like the walls are closing in on them? Well, sometimes I feel like the sh*t is closing in on me. So guys, I am not wonder woman...I am just hanging on by a very thin thread. And probably several Kit Kat wrappers.

So now that you know I am not perfect (I'll definitely never be a shining star on Pinterest), on with my story. The kids have been tired since the weekend. We had too many events, I guess. Saturday, we had dance lessons and my sister's birthday lunch. We didn't get home and in bed until about 8, which is two hours past the point where they turn into serial killers. On Sunday, no one napped (of course not! Why would they?), but we still took them to trunk or treat at their school. Eliza whined, cried, and threw herself on the ground. Mallory stuck her nose up at everyone who spoke to her. Jules had a fantastic time, smiling at everyone and pick-pocketing candy. It was all worth it in the end because they got a ton of chocolate. Mommy needs lots of chocolate. Sunday night, I thought it could not get much worse when Eliza attacked me, tried to bite me, and ripped my new sweater. I am not sure why I would think that.

So far this week, Mallory cried for one hour because I refused to get her McDonald's, Eliza and Juliet are taking turns not sleeping (working in shifts so someone is ALWAYS up). I worked last night until midnight, which is always a dumb idea because that gives me even less sleep and it shows. I am starting to think the zombies on TWD look hotter than I do. This morning started out with Mal and E cuddling and telling each other how much they're in love, so I thought it would be a good day. Wow. I get E in the car and have to hold her down to strap her in. Then she cries the entire ride to school because her shoe fell off and I wouldn't pull over in the pouring rain and put it back on. Also because I wouldn't turn Dora on. Frankly, I am f***ing sick of Dora. If I ever see that b**ch out in the city, or wherever she lives now, that little sh*t better run. Anyway, we get to school and she had finally calmed down. Until we get to her classroom. She climbed me, pulled my pants down (read: crack), cried, chased me...the works. Her teacher is such a lovely lady, and calmly assures me this is normal for her age, eventually she will outgrow this, and she is always so sweet in class. I think in my head, "Yes, and you only have her til 1230."

I got a short reprieve while they were in class for three hours. Juliet slept most of that time and I sat there in silence eating my breakfast. Doing absolutely nothing. The people that clean their house or do anything productive when they don't have their kids around are clearly insane. I needed a break.

When I came back at school to get them, both kids were thrilled to see me. Again I falsely believed the worst was over. Wrong. So wrong. We got to the parking lot, and E refused to hold my hand, which is the first sign of an impending tantrum. Or maybe the first sign of the apocalypse because it feels like the same thing. I ended up having to DRAG her through the parking lot since I couldn't pick her up with Jules on my back, because let's face it--I produce some large children. She tried to bite me several times. Then she refused to get in the car. Most of you know, I am 5 foot tall and I drive a Tahoe. So here I am stuffing this child who is 33 pounds and over half as tall as me into this car I am obviously not meant to be driving. I had to lift her up (Jules still on my back) and violently hurl her screaming fat butt into the car. If you happened to be at Georgetown First United Methodist Church around 1245 today, please do not call CPS on me. In addition to the potential child abuse, my ass crack was escaping my jeans again, and I forgot to wear a bra so my tits were flopping in the wind. I haven't made it to church much in the past few years, but I gonna go ahead and assume they don't like T&A in their parking lot. After I finally flung her into her seat and managed to restrain her, she screamed for 15 more minutes, while I sat in the church parking lot trying so hard not to scream at her, it eventually came out as a few tears. When she finally stopped crying, I decided to order pizza (because that makes me feel better), and we headed home.

On our short drive home, Mallory's observations made up for Eliza's bad mood. She has commentary about everything we pass on the way to our house. In ten minutes, I heard her says things like, "That horse is eating grass. I don't like grass. It has dirt and poop on it. Poop is what comes out of your butt when you sit on the toilet. Poop smells bad, and it's not even a vegetable" and "Poor Jules. I think she wants to go home and eat some Cheerios. She looks quite hungry (she is still talking in an English accent and likes to use the words quite and bit like Peppa Pig does)." Then she begged and pleaded with me to buy her an airplane ticket. To nowhere in particular. She just wants to ride an airplane. I told her we can't afford that right now, and she said, "but they give you water and snacks, and I really like snacks."

By the time we got home, Mallory had cheered me up. I felt like a much better mom. The pizza, Kit Kat, Milky Way, and Snickers might have also played a part (don't judge me-they were fun sized). I didn't even lose my cool when all three kids did their synchronized pooping stunt during lunch, and I had to chase Eliza and sit on her to change her diaper.

I found out today a lady I met years and years ago when she was a teenager just lost her daughter to cancer. Her beautiful daughter was about the same age as Eliza. I never met her daughter, and the lady certainly would not even remember me now, but it has hurt my heart more than I can even express. I cannot imagine what she has gone through this past year and the past few days. I can't imagine how she will go on with her life and take care of her other child. Or herself.

Today was one of the worst parenting days of my life. I lost my temper. I felt sorry for myself. I wondered why I wanted children. I thought I wasn't meant to be a parent. I thought I am doing something wrong. I felt like a failure because the house is dirty and I feed the kids Papa John's instead of cooking. I felt alone. I felt depressed.

Sadly, I forgot the most important things: I am still a parent. I have three gorgeous children, who are sweet 80% of the time (okay, maybe 50%). They can scratch me, bite me, and scream until my ear drums almost burst, but I can still hold them, kiss them, and tell them Mommy loves you and I will still be here even when you're feeling nasty. This lady doesn't have her baby. My sister doesn't have my nephew. I still have all of mine. They are emotional. They can be mean. They are young and confused. But they are absolutely perfect.

If you have a bad parenting day and need someone to talk to, please call me before you lose your temper or beat yourself up. I promise to make you laugh. If you like Kit Kats or pizza, I will even share.

And please send love to precious little Bennett's family.

Quotes...from the last 2 1/2 years

Random Texts

At least you don't have to have the sex talk with him. I'm putting it off.
And that is why I don't want a boy. No boners. Two are enough in this house.

I bought some cinnamon apple cheddar cheese.
That sounds disgusting. I'd rather lick my dog's butt.

Just crop dusted walmart. Smelled like rancid bacon.

Night shift is killing my brain. Made a chicken pot pie without the chicken last night and just now realized it.

I laughed so hard I farted and almost blew myself out of my chair.

Your mom likes ass play.
Maybe that's how she got butt herpes?
Sick dude.

You would think since I had like seven tacos and five pieces of banana bread today I'd be able to poop finally. I've been sitting here waiting for the same turd to come out for ten minutes.

I'll be there!!! Just to puss Erin off!
Puss?! I don't know what that means, but I'm probably not into that.

Every time I hear someone say "boo!" or "surprise" I want to follow it with "here comes my dick."

Night shift is making me much more relaxed about my hygiene.

I think there should be different levels of vibration for ur phone: slow, med, and high.
Um, that would make it a sex toy.
Only you would want your phone to stimulate you.

I can't poop. I feel like I just gave birth and I still have its twin stuck inside.

I drink wine and read porn and am good.

I finally finished pooping! I feel better now.
I knew you were full of shit!

I want to be a peddler of smut!
I think you already are.

I'm making you Paula Deen Mac & cheese. You'll have diabetes before you know it.

I feel like Eric Cartman. I'm pretty sure flames just shot out of my ass. No more mcds breakfast.

I need someone in charge of me to just tell me wtf to do. Preferably at the last minute.

Maybe they should call ur mom, she takes care of my needs just fine.

I cannot be preggo. I drink way too much alcohol.
Yep...that's how you get pregnant.

I have a booger etiquette question. The dude next to me just picked his nose and wiped it on his shirt. In this case he should've eaten it. Correct?
No according to your rules he should've eaten it. According to mine he should've discreetly placed it under his seat.

You probably have a big furry bush just like your mom's.

Neither of my kids have cough or cold symptoms. They're just assholes.

I ♥ Autocorrect

I threw frozen chicken and all the ingredients in bags and wrote like "grill 6-8 min per side" or "crock pot 8 hoes on low"
I don't think I could fit 8 hoes in my crock pot dude.

Ok, let me watch my crotch.
[much later...]
Are you still watching your crotch?
No, it wasn't doing anything interesting.

I'm sitting with my legs folder beside me.
If you have a folder of legs I am going to have to report you to the police.
Just some souvenirs of old patients.
Creep.

Fun at Work

A patient: My baby needs a bath. She's covered in vajayjay juice.

Another patient: Honey can you move that chair so I can wash my twat?

Autumn: I'm never going to breastfeed.
Kristi: Yes, you will. I will make you. I will grab your boob.

You know it's going to be a good night when you open the door and the first thing you see is a butt crack.

Shelia: I'm going to go to the Dairy Queen and f**k her up.

Susan: Balls smell like vinegar.

My nipples are hard because I just breastfed a baby, not because I think you're hot.

No, I don't want your P in my V.

Shelia (to one of the new residents): What kind of name is that?

Ann: That makes me want to throw up my rainbow cake.

J: Blake Shelton just looks like he is the type that picks his nose and eats it.

Other Funny Sh*t

Brian: I have to update my iPhone. The map has navigation now and apparently Suri is better.
Me: You have Tom Cruise's kid in your iPhone?

Me: Smell my foot.
Mallory: No I'm fine.

Me: I'm still itching.
Brian: You're probably allergic to your mouth...maybe you should talk less.

Brian (after spending 10 mins making himself an Old-Fashioned): I'm a f***ing idiot...I forgot to put alcohol in it."

Brian (referring to Eliza): She's going to play soccer.
Me: Why soccer?
Brian: That's all girls can do isn't it?

Brian (while watching the Walking Dead): If it came down to killing you or you being a zombie, I'd kill you first. We couldn't have a zombie that talked that much.

Zoe (my 4 year old niece): Night night asshole.

Me: You're going to be 32 this week. Do you feel old?
Brian: Well you're going to be like 60 this week...do you feel old?

Me: How did you get blood on another set of sheets?
Brian: I don't know. I guess my nose bled.
Me: You're like a girl on the rag.

Me (while watching Sesame Street with Mallory): She LOVES Murray and Ovejita.
Brian: Who DOESN'T?

Jenni: Thanks to Ryan for sticking it out.
Me: That's what she said.

Me: I should get to name the baby since I have to go through all of this.
Anthony: No, Brian should get to name the baby because he had to have sex with a girl.

Anthony: These shoes are ugly. They looked better in the closet.
Jehan: So did you.

Me: How old is Gizmo (his cat) going to be this year?
My Dad: 23.
Me: Are you having a party for her?
My Dad: No we're having a funeral.

Me (while leaving Mr Gatti's parking lot): I'm pulling out now.
Brian: That's what he said.

Me: How can you not think Chewy is cute? He looks like a teddy bear.
Brian: I had a teddy bear. It didn't f***ing smell like that.

Me: Mallory woke up and said "I need to pee pee in the potty." And she did!
My mom: I woke up and said the same thing! And I did!

Megan: Are you still talking to that guy from Chicago?
Anthony: No he is a d*ck...you are what you eat.

My grandma Mimi: That Taylor Swift looks like a squirrel.

Me: You're about as subtle as Miley Cyrus.

Anthony: Ladies, the hair is on point. Wait...did I just get gayer?

Heard on TV

Ben on Parks and Recreation: "life is short...why be an accountant?" (I agree)

Ellen Degeneres (while holding up a five year olds "giraffe" drawing that closely resembled a penis): "I don't know what this is, but I can honestly say I've never seen one of those."

Jeff Ross: Congrats to Kim and Kanye. It will be hard to deliver the baby though since she always has a black d*ck in her birth canal.

Jeff Ross (in regards to Justin Beiber smoking pot): I don't care how much pot he smokes, 420 is still his nap time.

Jase (to Willy): You look like a hairy marshmallow covered in blueberries.

Si (to Willy): You look like Rambo made love to a beaver.

You were flirting with the help.
I was not flirting. I was being friendly.
Yeah right...you were sending telepathic wiener missiles at her face and you know it.

"Having children is like living in a frat house -- nobody sleeps, everything's broken, and there's a lot of throwing up." Ray Romano

Will Ferrell in Anchorman 2: When you have an ass like the north star, wise men are going to follow it.

And Finally...

One of the best quotes ever. I thought of this randomly the other day, and it's still hysterical 16 years later. I was working at the Dairy Queen drive thru, when an extremely stoned dude pulled up to the window and said "Do you come with that number five?" I said "Not today." He replied, "Shhhhiiiiitttt....if you came wit dat it'd be a HAPPY meal."

The inspiration for my blog title

When trying to decide what to call my blog, I tried to think of a common theme in my life. I thought about being a mom, my career as an OB nurse, and my dogs...I suddenly came to the realization that it all comes back to poop. That's right--my life revolves around sh*t.

Surprisingly, the number one source of the crap I encounter on a daily basis does not come from my daughter or my patients but my two mangy, irritating little dogs. I am not saying they're not completely adorable (because they are), but it's hard to remember this as you're squishing a warm turd with your bare toes. The worse part is, it is not just poop. Over the years, I have come across some of the most horrifying, yet somehow, most hilarious things you can imagine. If you haven't stopped reading yet, I will assume you're not easily grossed out and give you some examples.

My first Yorkie was an evil genius. He was the Einstein of Yorkies. He could perform at least a dozen tricks on command. I had to spell more than 20 words because he knew what I was saying. With this fantastic IQ also came the ability to know exactly how to tick everyone off. You didn't give him a treat on time? Pee on your leg. You try to take a nap when he wants to play? Racquetball to your skull. He frequently found ways to distract me...he would ask for his water bowl to be filled, then I'd turn my back to find out he ate my cheeseburger. There was also an incident with Brian I'm not allowed to write about unless I want to be served with divorce papers tomorrow morning. Despite the many times I wanted to throw him into the wall, Shelby was the best dog who ever existed. There have been very few people who have made me laugh the way that damn dog did.

The first time I knew I was in trouble was when he was only 4 months old. I was working at Dairy Queen when I got a call from my ex-boyfriend. He went to my place to let Shelby out since I was working all day. He opened the back door to find a rainbow smeared across the kitchen floor. Yes, you read that right. Shelby had climbed onto the kitchen table and tried to eat a box of Gobstoppers. You know, the jawbreakers that change color. Except Shelby didn't know you were supposed to suck on them to make them change colors. Instead, he licked them while they rolled across the floor, making yellow, green, red, orange, and purple streaks on every square inch of linoleum in my kitchen. When he got frustrated with the Gobstoppers, he decided to check out the table again--where he found a box of tea bags. He ate the ENTIRE box. I was convinced he was going to die, but all that happened was he didn't sleep (or blink) for the next 15 hours.

A few months later, I came home and couldn't find Shelby. He weighed about 4 pounds, so where could he go right? I had a huge kitchen and I had a gate up between the kitchen and the rest of the house. He was not in the kitchen. I immediately feared the worse--that someone had stolen him. Then I thought maybe a maintenance man let him out. While I am standing there, horrified, here comes a flying 4 pound ball of fur running through the living room and leaping over the 2 foot tall plastic gate. I was so happy to see him...until I saw the living room. The brand new, expensive berber carpet was ripped up in places with little "sprouts" sticking way up from the floor. There were several newspapers torn to shreds, complete with the black ink smeared on the now-destroyed carpet. A flower arrangement had been eaten then vomited up repeatedly throughout the room. Worst of all, my old tv was no longer functional as the cord had been chewed in HALF! Did I mention said tv was still plugged into the wall?

Shelby somehow escaped being electrocuted by the tv and murdered by me for ruining the living room and continued to wreak havoc on my life and house. One time, I picked up my purse & dumped it out on my bed to transfer it to a different purse and along with the lip gloss, pens, and cell phone came a rolling piece of dried up poo! To this day, I am still not sure how a short little dog got that nugget in there since my purse was hanging on a hook well above his height.

When Shelby was 3, he had a serious stomach condition and had to have emergency surgery. It cost so much it took me over 1 year to pay off the bill, but it was worth it. It made me appreciate his sense of humor that much more. And I am happy to say, by paying that bill, I gave him 8 more years to torture me.

Shelby was a brave little dog--unless you presented him with something NOT scary. He would take on Rottweilers, the vet, and the groomer like a champ...but keep wrapping paper rolls away from him please. One day when I was wrapping some Christmas presents, I had one of those giagantic rolls of paper out. When I used the last of the paper, I chased him around the living room with the roll up to my mouth saying "Sheeeeeeelllllllbbbbbyyyyy." He ran and ran until the crap came flying. I accomplished what I thought was the impossible: I literally scared the sh*t out of someone.

Shelby's favorite place to go "bye bye" to was my mom & dad's house. You probably assume it's because his grandparents gave him attention or treats right? Nope! It was because they have a cat, which means they also have a litter box. That dog could eat cat turds like it was his job. It was impossible to keep him from getting upstairs and getting in that box. Every time we visited, their house would end up covered from top to bottom in turds and litter crystals. Which has me wondering why the hell my parents kept inviting him back?

When Shelby was 7, Brian became a part of our family. Shelby had lived alone with me for so many years, he wasn't quite sure what to think about this arrangement. On one hand, he was happy to snuggle up with Brian to watch tv late into the night. On the other hand, he didn't like not having Brian's undivided attention. If Brian tried to play xbox, Shelby would jump at him and "punch" him with his paws until he got up. When that sometimes didn't work, Shelby would bark in increasingly louder intervals until Brian couldn't stand it anymore. If neither of those strategies were successful, Shelby would wait until he established eye contact with Brian, and then piss all over the floor to make it clear he would not tolerate being ignored. They had a love/hate relationship that brought me much amusement.

By the time Shelby turned 8, we introduced Porkchop to the family. Porkchop was a 3 pound miniature pinscher who quickly took over the house. She pounced on Shelby. She followed him around. She stood next to him and flung her back leg across him. He HATED her. It took close to a year for him to accept we weren't sending this creature back to whatever planet she arrived from. Finally, he decided to make friends. His definition of a friend was someone to help him in his pursuit to tear up things and slowly chip away at his mother's sanity.

Porkchop has never accepted the fact that she is a miniature pinscher. She maintains the belief that she is a full grown Doberman. At 20 pounds, this dog is surprisingly quite the hunter. She has caught moles, rabbits, even birds. I am convinced that most of the appeal in this hunting is not the catch itself, but in terrorizing me--her mother. Every time she catches a mole or a bird, she stands at the back door & flings its dead body into the back door over & over just to hear me scream. When she finally gave up, she would always pass the corpse on to Shelby, who would refuse to come in the house or drop the offending animal.

There have been more times than I care to count that I have had the living crap scared out of me when I've round the corner to find an unidentified gnawed on little body. I have found a mole so badly decomposed I thought it was a leaf, until I went to pick it up, at which point I screamed so loudly I am sure the entire street heard. I have found more than one bird, guts hanging out, strewn across the hallway. I have even heard commotion from across the house, only to arrive to see two dogs fighting over a chewed up worm they somehow glued to the wall.

They have always been smart enough to know if they are going to do something bad they need to do it in the other room...but they have never been smart enough to figure out how to do it quietly. One night, I heard a loud noise that sounded like a rock being kicked all over the hard wood floors. I went into the bedroom to find Porkchop and Shelby fighting over something. I broke it up (getting bit in the process), and reached over to pick up the rock. Wrong--not a rock! It was a FROZEN TURD!

Shelby continued to terrorize me until the day he died. He was still turning over trash cans to get q-tips the week that he got sick. I was devastated when I lost him, but it was time. He had a long life for a dog plagued with so many health issues. Porkchop took it harder than anyone. Night after night, she would stare at us and cry. She wouldn't lay down and sleep--just cry and pace. I had to have another Yorkie. Not just because I needed another one but because I thought Porkchop would get over her loneliness.

Enter Chewy. It was just like Shelby and Porkchop all over again. Porkchop hated Chewy on sight. She did everything she could to avoid him. That only lasted a few weeks until he learned to jump on the couch. She finally learned to accept him. He still lays on her back several times a day and chews on her ears. In a way, it's pretty fitting she is getting back what she put Shelby through for 4 years.

Chewy has taken over Shelby's job as partner in crime. Porkchop does the killing, he does the eating and/or sneaking the corpse into the house.

Chewy is much different than Shelby though. He is also very smart and very vindictive. However, he is more affectionate. Shelby was not a lap dog. He liked to sit by people, not on them. And most of the time, he preferred the floor where it was cooler. Chewy wants to be right on top of everyone. Loves to be held and gives "nibbles" to everyone. Which is why he enjoys bringing me "presents" even more than Shelby did.

The night before a big nursing test, I was in bed studying when I reached over to grab my notes, and almost put my hand on a SLUG! Apparently Chewy thought he would bring me an early Christmas gift! I can handle poop, puke, vomit, etc but a slug in my bed is where I draw the line.

Have I mentioned Brian has to pick up all this stuff? Like I said, I will handle baby or adult messes, but I don't do decomposed mole corpses or bird stomachs. Brian has received many calls at work with me shrieking about something the dogs have done. Or he has come home to find the dogs locked outside with me hiding inside. Somedays he can barely get through the door before I'm telling him "look what YOUR dog did."

I was really worried about handling two dogs with a new baby. But it's honestly been great. They are still a pain in my butt, but they love Mallory. It has been fun watching her grow up with them.

Update: 

I wrote this blog back in 2011, when Mallory was one. For some reason, I never published it. I guess that my intention was to add more to the story. Trust me, there is a lot more I can say about these dogs.

However, in the years have passed (as I have horribly neglected my blog), two more little beauties have come along. Not puppies this time...I am talking about Eliza and Juliet. Having three kids 4 and under along with two high maintenance dogs just wasn't going to work out.

Luckily, I found a new home for Chewy in a friend from my hometown. Chewy went to live with Danielle and her family in the fall of 2014, before Juliet arrived. It seems things are working out well, and I am so thrilled for him. And Porkchop seems thrilled to be the only dog. The competition has left the building!

Apparently since Shelby & Chewy both had such strong personalities, we overlooked the fact that Porkchop is an a**hole. In the weeks Chewy has been gone, Porkchop has suddenly become my biggest source of stress (which is saying a lot considering the amount of young children I have). She has barked nonstop, eaten out of the trash, asked to go in & out (for more barking) at all hours of the night, and most recently--she has taken to chewing on all the kids clothes and stuffed animals. So far, Mallory's dirty panties seem to be the most delectable snack.

As big of a pain as she has become, she is almost 9 years old, so she is sticking around. The kids love her. One of Eliza's favorite activities is lint rolling the dog. Brian started doing this to eliminate some of the loose hair in the house, and now Eliza can't get enough.

So for now, between two kids in diapers, my messy patients, and my increasingly senile Min Pin, I'll remain up to my elbows in sh*t. I'm back by popular demand. Keep watching for more classic quotes, which have been a work-in-progress since I was pregnant with Eliza, and a best of Mallory Renee collection. Thanks for enjoying my sh*tty life as much as I do!