Oh. You didn’t click away! Bravo. You are so brave.
Diarrhea, Vomit and a Lousy Night’s Sleep
First things first… neither the diarrhea nor the vomit was my own. Secondly… the word “diarrhea” is not spelled in a way that “looks right”. Of course, nothing about diarrhea looks right. *gag, gag, gag*
So. We have this dog. Kevin. He’s about 10 months old.
Here’s a picture of Kevin and me. I was working with my laptop on the couch, and he decided to snuggle. He’s like a stuffed animal with claws, fangs, noxious farts and slobber…
He loves to sit next to me and keep a paw on me. He is also a lot like a co-dependent woman.
Aaanywho.
Vomit.
Dogs and babies are kindred spirits. Neither “species” can’t speak OUR language, but they definitely have body language and special sounds. Cues, if you will…
Last night, Kevin was giving many, MANY “cues”.
Hindsight is 20/20.
I remember when my kids were babies. With each one there were times I misread their cues and ended up with vomit for clothing or wallpaper ifyaknowwhatimean.
Today, with a 5, 7 & 10 year old… I am thankful I no longer have to clean vomit or poop from between the slats of a crib thoughsometimesfromthecarpetinthecar….
BUT.
We have a dog.
In short… my kids have grown and can speak MY native language. “Mommy! I think I need to throw up!” Even if we don’t pull over in time and only half the vomit makes it into the ditch – at least I knew something was wrong.
But dogs? They just don’t speak.
Since we brought Kevin home at 7.5 weeks old… he has almost ALWAYS slept through the night. *saving grace* One would think all his whimpering and standing at the door to go outside last night would have clued me in.
But… let’s go back to babies for a minute. Let’s go back to exhaustion and decision-making.
Say it with me, “NOT SO MUCH.” Right?
Right.
Kevin whimpered and I scolded. He whimpered, and Paul scolded. He whimpered I profaninated. He whimpered and Paul profaninated.
Cuz profanity makes dogs shut-up.
“KEVIN! GO!” I yelled at him to get out my room.
At my command (finally) I hear him power down the stairs and then I hear “that” sound. The sound a dog makes when his whole body is working mightily to reject the chew toy he consumed earlier in the day.
*gag gag gag gag gag*
Paul cleaned it up because I would have only made the pile bigger.
And then it ALL happened again – the yelling, the cursing… the vomit.
*gag gag gag gag gag*
Outside. But on my porch.
I haven’t has such a horrible night’s sleep since I had a newborn.
And when I awoke this morning there was more vomit BUT ALSO diarrhea. Like a pepper mill to a salad… Like a sprinkler to crops… Like a machine gun to an enemy… So was Kevin.
