Sunday, January 09, 2022

When the **** hits the fan. Literally.

I start this entry, then I delete it. Then, I start it again a few days later. And delete it. I know I must write it out because it will be important someday for my boys to review and remember, to see how the things in this life have helped equip them and strengthen them. To process... 

Kris and I headed to our 21st anniversary dinner, a monumental event as dinner out together usually happens once a year. We had just gotten my 4-Runner back from the shop where they fixed it for a fraction of the cost that we had anticipated, so we excitedly drove it through town to the restaurant. Only upon our return did I discover the frozen poop that was smeared on the back window and dripping (in frozen form) from the wiper blade. Haulin' somethin'! The local car wash thinks I love mudding... 

The past 5 months have involved an unbelievable array, display and exposure to Lochlan's fecal matter. Most of his fixations last for mere weeks, but we're rapidly galloping to the half year mark on this beauty. All of us have developed cute little twitches, random spasms in our limbs and we all stutter if we speak at all, but mostly we just converse in grunts and wild gestures. We've all become rabid creatures of the wild, with our sanity floating happily aloft in the hurricane winds that Flagstaff entertains on a frequent basis. We live and breathe Crazy-town! 

One evening, after a theatrical performance in the bathroom, we got Lochlan cleaned up, and Kaysee and I locked ourselves into the bathroom to commence clean-up (we do not offer him the satisfaction of witnessing our efforts). Our eyes filled with tears and we cried. A. Lot. The next night, we had an almost identical performance and began our cleaning routine, again. This time, however, we laughed uncontrollably for the almost 30 minutes it took to sanitize the premises. We laughed until we were crying. The absurdity of it all hits you differently (sometimes literally) throughout the various encounters. Levels of sanity are probably a thing. :-) 


I woke up early - it had been a wretched night following a wretched week and I was determined to make this day different, starting with carefully braided hair and cinnamon rolls. I descended the stairs, heard a devilish laugh, and felt the resounding plop as crap hit my hair. My resolutions for that day oozed down my face mixing with the tears and fury. 

We have a brown metal roof our our little round house and it's adorable. I check it periodically to make sure the gutters are cleaned out and I noticed sections looked a bit lumpy. I wasn't wrong. So, now our roof is particularly clean. 

Kris' office (the refurbished shed in our yard) was used as target practice one afternoon. It didn't blend as well as it did on the roof. And somehow, the office space felt less professional when Lochlan was finished with it. 

Trees. I showed the boys several years ago how great it is to take small stones, or snowballs and aim at trees when you are walking along. It improves your likelihood of hitting the target should you need to (like when I hit the mountain lion with a rock). Lochlan is just exploring new opportunities in this arena. Indoor trees. Outdoor trees. The sky is the limit! 

Most windows are fair game for targeted chunks, but sometimes particular windows are of interest. We have over 30 windows in our portfolio to date, but skylights are of notable interest. Windshields are also inspiring. As a driver, there is little that is more alarming than a wad of poo whizzing past your head with a resounding splat on the windshield in front of you. 

Mirrors are wonderful too, because they double the count! 

Bathroom trashcans are actually easier to poo in than toilets. Apparently. You can poo around them too. Anywhere around them. Or not. Just anywhere is fine too. In fact, every where is fine too. 

My piano is of particular interest in this department. Luckily, as a baby grand, it closes all the way down, so after the first couple hits, I keep it closed unless I'm actually playing it. The fecal matter tends to alter the sound a bit. 

Doors - barn doors, car doors, bedroom doors, bathroom doors, sliding glass doors, front doors, back doors, SCREEN DOORS!!! I mean, it's where the magic happens. 

Lamp shades are neat because they slant downward, giving momentum in all the right ways. There's nothing quite like sitting down to read a good book, cup of tea in hand, and sensing that subtle movement of slowly slithering fecal matter descending the lamp shade closest to your head. Lamp shades don't hold a candle to ceiling fans, however. Just imagine the possibilities - or don't, if you're still a civilized human being. 

It turns out that poo blends in rather nicely on all of our dogs, except for Bumpy. She has too much white, but he doesn't let that stop him. 

We have discovered that when poo lands on the fireplace, it helps to disperse the aroma throughout the house. Neat. 

Bathtubs are great, but jacuzzi tubs... NEXT LEVEL! 

Beautiful iron wall hangings are incredible for camouflaging the substance while the family is aromatically tortured. I have become a famous hunter using my snout alone to track down substances. Who knew that skill set resided within me? 

Baskets of clean laundry. What could be more tempting??? I'm highly motivated to fold and put away laundry. But, if you really want to sabotage laundry, go straight to the source! The dryer warms it, dries it on, smears it and creates convulsions in mommy, so it's a win win! 

I shall never own a brown couch. It's simply not worth it. 

Dining rooms (and tables and chairs) are for families gathering around a shared meal. And so much more. 

Every hotel room and Airbnb where we stayed along our journey to/from Oregon probably still has residue of our presence, in spite of our best efforts to the contrary. I have so much more grace and compassion for my Airbnb guests. **** happens. It's just a reality.

EVERY BLANKET IN OUR HOUSE has been washed in the past month. No, I'm not a remarkable house keeper. Necessity requires. 

I have one wool coat that I adore, in particular. When I put it on to march into town one day, I just instantly knew. And let me remind you that wool is tricky... washing it has consequences. More tears. But, alas, it's just a coat. 

Tomorrow is another day. I shudder. 


No comments: