Not one end, but two.

Happy Friday after St. Patty's day everyone! Hopefully you are all still filled with green beer and remnants of cheer. I did not get to share in the feast O' St. Pat, due to the fact that I was teaching high schoolers the hand jive until 10:00 pm {Tons of fun, by the way!!} but I did make a point to stay up late and snuggle with the hubs over a few episodes of True Blood. Which, by the way, the verdict is still out on. It's an 'interesting' show but I'm not sure what all the fuss is about. We're 10 episodes into the first season and just about every character is now annoying me. Most of the ones I actually like either have tiny bit parts, are winding up dead or have decided to make me hate them for one reason or twelve. 

But, while I could spend an entire series of posts observing the oddities of the VAMPIRE LOVE FEST, I digress.  Today I'm going to talk about something somewhat familiar, but slightly new. Are you ready for it? {read this: weak stomachs brace yourselves} As you know from yesterday's over-share, in the past few days Pigs has mastered the art of projectile poop. I've seen, smelled, and cleaned up more than Mother Nature intended and thought, foolishly, that it couldn't get any worse. This morning's routine started like any other with my early morning wake up call, 4 dates with the snooze button and a refreshing shower before heading downstairs to let the pups out and grab some breakfast. As I descended the stairs a foul smell hit my nose and I knew. Another poop-covered morning. 

Yes, friends, Pigs still has his art down pat {I know some of you were probably worried his talents were diminishing...eww}. I half expected it so wasn't entirely surprised. Luckily I was smart enough to surround their kennel with newspaper last night in hopes that it would catch any fast flying feces. It did, making the clean up much easier than yesterday. The morning continued with me hollering for the hubs' assistance while carefully carrying the poop-covered pups outside so we could switch out the dirty kennel for the clean one {yes we have two, and thank the sweet Lord we do!}. I then tossed the pups in the tub and gave them a good scrub down. All this while still modeling my bathrobe and twisty-towel head. Things seemed to be going smoothly at this point but as I've already prefaced, it was no where near the end. After towel drying the pups I brought them into the guest room where I normally get ready as to not wake Z {I'm such a good wife}. They hopped up on the bed with me and snuggled up in my lap while I alternated between drying my hair, and them. Ah, the calm before the storm.
I noticed that Buster was shivering a little in my lap but thought it was because he was cold from his wet fur. 
Nay, Sara. Thou art wrong in so many ways.
Well folks, it turns out that Buster has been feeling a little left out due to all the coddling and attention his power-pooping sibling has been receiving as of late. So, he decided to join in on the 'fun' and 'excitement in his own special way.
All of a sudden, while still sitting on the bed in a position similar to the "butterfly stretch", with both pups in my lap, and my hair thrown over in front of me so I could dry the back of my head, I feel something warm hit my left leg. It was one of those sensations when you aren't really sure if you're imagining things or not and you aren't even certain of where you should look to find the answer. Well, there was no need to look once the smell hit me.
In total shock I threw my head back and saw it.
My leg, covered in puppy puke.
Good morning.
I called for Z and did everything I could not to look at it, smell it or freak the EFF out. 
I've dealt with puppy puke before but this was something out of The Exorcist. It wasn't chunks of food or a watery mess but instead had remnants of a rope toy, a rubber bear, and the, now infamous, Mr. Duckie. Apparently Pigs wasn't the only one indulging in the toy buffet. The puke's path of destruction traveled from my shin and calf onto the bed, down the comforter and hit the finish line in a pile on the floor. The image has been burned into my brain forever. 
After suppressing the urge to join Buster in his VOM excursion I quickly washed my leg, cleaned up the pool of puke on the carpet, tossed ALL of the bedding in the wash on the HEAVY SOIL setting and sped through the house like a bat out of hell trying to get ready for work while the hubs dealt with the rest of the puppy mess.  I'm so lucky and thankful to have a sweet hubby who will get up HOURS before he has to and battle two tiny poo and puke monsters with me and then make me breakfast. After washing his hands of course.
Oh Friday, why do you hate me so?
Until next time...
Thanks for all the tips on pet carpet stains everyone. Now... how to remove the puppy puke image from my mind forever! GO