Sometimes, you bounce out of bed in the morning, everything goes your way, and the sun is shining. You feel an overwhelming sense of optimism and practically make everyone around you throw up a little in their mouths because you're so darn-tootin' happy.
I know you will be saddened to know this was not one of those days. In fact, it was like every living being in this house decided to gang up against me with body fluids and then laughed as I tried contain the deluge.
DS and I were playing with elastics and carabiners... much more fun than all them fancy toys... when from the depths of the litter box came a strange and sinister sound. I leapt to my feet, all sorts of 40-year-old, ninja-like grace about me, and dashed to the bathroom to see what was going on.
Usually, I leave a baby gate across the bathroom door, for reasons obvious only to someone who has a dog and or a toddler. Clearly, I'd forgotten to gate the door...
By the time I'd wrangled Poo-Breath out of the litter box, there was a huge mound of litter (minus poo, count those small blessings) on the little litter-catching mat. There was also a huge mound of litter in my sweet Doo-Mouth's beautiful ruff, but I chose to ignore this.
Sighing, I barred the door again, much to DS's chagrin... he loves anything tragic that has to do with poo. In fact, he will run around the yard just so he can shout dramatically, "Mommy!! Poop!! Mommy here! Biiiiiig pooop!" and my job then is to run over with the poop scooper before he tries to touch it, and then I throw it over the back fence into the forest and I'm like a poop-flinging Super Girl.
My strategy for cleaning up the mess included picking up the litter mat and flinging the litter back into the box. The whole process went remarkably well until I got to the part about actually lifting the mat, which, incidentally, was actually the first step. As soon as I lifted it, I found the floor underneath covered with cat pee. Apparently, though not shockingly, Bad Cat had peed all over the mat and it had gone under there and nicely worked its way (probably) into the grout of the tiles.
Sighing once more (there's a lot of sighing in this story), I threw the mat into the litter box (screw it - that mat stunk like pee for some reason anyway, and hey, it's about time to change the litter box) and went to get some paper towels and some hydrogen peroxide from under the kitchen sink.
At this point, DS had grown disinterested in the poop drama and had gone back to the family room to string elastics on his carabiners. As I headed dejectedly back to the kitchen, his dear voice piped up from behind to coffee table: "Mommy! Mommy, look! Mess! Look, Mommy!"
He held his bare foot up in the air at an angle I have not been able to produce since I was in Tae Kwon Do at age 12. From his foot dripped some sort of slimy bile I identified as being either the dog's or the cat's vomit (my bets are on the dog, being as he'd just eaten a load of poo).
DS stuck his foot back into it and kind of slid it back and forth, making a sickly "thup-swup-thup-swup" type of noise that made my breakfast want to pay me a second visit.
My only recourse at this point was to holler helpful things such as, "No! Stop! Don't put your foot down!! Hold it up! Hold your foot high up in the air!!" DS dutifully did so while I ran back into the kitchen, got the roll of paper towels and a spray bottle of vinegar water (does that even actually disinfect anything? I need Lysol and bleach mixed together, but I doubt the sanctimommies would approve of me using that on my child's foot). I sprayed his foot and the floor with the dubiously-antibacterial mixture of vinegar water and swabbed it all up using copious amounts of paper towels (foot first, then floor. Duh).
At this point, it should have been the end of the story, except I then decided I realllly just needed to get this all taken care of and I had to clean the litter box, too.
So I dragged the litter box into the garage, took the lid off, and proceeded to clean it. DS came out to inspect and to check for any pieces of poop I might have missed. I went to grab the bag of litter and when I turned back around, DS was adorably running his hands around the inside walls of the (not-sanitized) litterbox.
I sloooowly instructed him to remove his hands from the litter box and to not touch his face... for the love of God, kid.... don't touch your face!!! as he looked at me with a confused expression and said in a very sweet voice, "What, Mommy? What?" as he ran his hands across his entire face: mouth, eyes, and then ending by accidentally getting one of the fingers stuck in his nose.
I whisked him off to wash his hands and to have him drink a shot of Listerine (jk, jk... I did not make my kid drink Listerine, settle down, geez).
Then I finished cleaning the litter box. That is the end of the my story, as my students like to say to end their papers. Thankfully, nothing else happened.
EDIT: Lies. More lies. Of course something else happened. I also stepped in dog poop in my flip-flops later on in the yard. Also, Good Cat tried to bat down a wasp and got his paw stung and it swelled to twice it's size and the vet told me to give him Chore-Trimeton, so I had to go buy some of that and then finagle the pill down his throat. But I don't even want to get into that. That's like, six mishaps in one day... No moar, plz.