Mom Daze – The Rescue Dog

Sometimes I find myself thinking, “How is this my life?”  I refer to those days as “Mom Daze.” I had one of those days recently, and I think it has so far topped all my Mom Daze. First, and importantly, I had plans to go out on a Friday night.  The reason this is significant is because I never go out on a Friday night.  I never go out on any given night.  I am too tired.  All the time.  Once Little Dude is in bed, I am useless.  If I sit, that pretty much means I am not getting up again until it is time to crawl into bed exhausted.  I try most nights with all my might to clean the kitchen, put away laundry and tidy up the house before sitting down to do anything (like eating, for instance).  If I make the decision to sit, it always means I will wake up the next day to a disastrous kitchen, wrinkled baskets of clothing and a grumpy disposition.  There are other reasons I don’t go out, but fatigue is really the main reason.  But this night, I had plans to go to a surprise birthday party for a dear friend and I was actually looking forward to it.  I was going to actually mingle with a bunch of adults that didn’t have kids (okay, some of them did), have drinks and act like I was as carefree now as I was ten years ago.  I could pretend for an evening that I don’t feel like I am 50.  I might be able to even convince myself that I’m still cool and fun.  And to top it off it is being held in my old stomping grounds near the beach.  Sweet!

Cut to my 4:00 p.m. confirmation with the babysitter.  I should just know I can’t trust a high school student.

Me, text:  You can still be here at 7:00 p.m., right?

Her, text:  No, I’m going to a football game.  Sorry.

Cue curse words flying through my head.  This initiates about six phone calls to everyone else I know that might possibly be able to fill in.  Good luck finding anyone within hours of Friday night, right?  Sigh.  Now at 5:00 p.m. I am attempting to finish feeding Little Dude dinner.  Phone rings, as it has been for the past hour with return calls of no dice.  Little Dude calls from the living room, “Mama, throw up!”  Rescue dog has thrown up on my beautiful rug.  I run to grab rags and head for the dog first, as she has vomit still dripping from her face.  Gag reflex goes off.  Smells like poop!  Why does your face smell like poop?  Ugh.  I run for the carpet stain and odor remover and come back to more throw up, now on my kitchen floor rug, and then continuing on the hard wood floor next to the rug in two places.  Need to stop operation clean-up and commence quarantine of sick dog.  What unfolds next is about 30 minutes of mopping and scrubbing the worst smelling substance I have ever had to come in close proximity to in my life.  I return to quarantined sick dog, which initiates more cleaning up of what is now yellow foam.  Meanwhile the phone is still ringing with return calls regarding the babysitter.  We have found a replacement!  Wahoo!  Now if I can just get everyone cleaned up, in bed and myself decently presentable, it should be a good night.

Rescue dog, pre-vomit incident. How adorable is this face?

I take all three dogs outside to pee (I own two dogs, and “fostered” a rescue dog unintentionally), with Little Dude in tow.  Rescue dog continues sickness and my son actually sees for the first time what is happening.  He starts crying and saying, “Mama, look it!  Look it, Mama!  Throw up!”  He is very upset and frightened to see the poor dog heaving and drooling foam from the corners of her mouth.  I want to help him, but am afraid to leave the poor dog in the midst of her heaving, while in the back of my mind I am panicking that she may have an intestinal obstruction.  Maybe she swallowed a small stub of a doggy bone without chewing it enough, and her body is desperately trying to get it out.  Do I leave her home sick?  Do I cancel my babysitter?

I get everybody back inside after they have all peed, get sick dog quarantined, and bath time is next on the agenda.  I hear Little Dude call from the hallway outside my bedroom, “Mama, poop!”  My first thought is he pooped in his pants because I had just taken off his diaper 20 minutes ago.  I walk out into the hall to see dog poop.  Two little poop piles and a spot on the floor missing its pile.  Light bulb goes off above my head.  Dog pooped.  Dog ate poop.  Dog vomited poop.  Repeat of gag reflex.  Repeat of cleaning and scrubbing and mopping.  How is this my life?

I found her sleeping like this. She must have needed more blood circulation to her head.

Baby’s bedtime routine is in fast-forward.  Quick wash, quick jammies, quick bottle and then I am off to make myself presentable.  I spent about three minutes getting ready that morning after my shower so I pretty much looked like I spent three minutes getting ready that morning.  Of course the jeans I wanted to wear were still dirty (I must have sat down last night after putting Little Dude down) and my hair is a rat’s nest.  Quick flat iron, quick make-up, babysitter shows up early, dogs are barking, sick dog is scratching at the bathroom door to get out, and I am out the door after about 15 minutes of prep.  I am remembering the days when I would spend a good hour getting ready to go out.  I sort of miss those days.  I miss having an hour to waste like that.  And I am ready for a drink.

The surprise was great!  The party was fun.  The guest of honor talks me into staying out late (my plan was to be home by midnight, my son wakes by 6:30 a.m.) and we head to a local bar for a drink, which I of course don’t have because I am driving my  husband and I home.  We arrive back home around 2:30 a.m.  I have not been out that late for ages.  I feel like crap.  I know I am going to pay for this.   I check in on the sick dog and find diarrhea in two places, as well as diarrhea footprints throughout the bathroom.  Third repeat of gag reflex.  Third repeat of mopping and scrubbing.  How is this my life?  I get to bed about 3:00 a.m. and baby calls me out of bed at 6:45 a.m.  Sick dog needs a bath and the bathroom needs a thorough scrubbing.  Sigh.  There are some days I want to slip out the door and disappear into the night.  This was one of those days.

Even after this event, I still think she is a cute little fur ball.

p.s. Two days later I came down with a nasty cold that lasted two and half weeks. I knew I would pay for that night of “fun.” Sigh.

Had any “good” Mom Daze recently?