The Sitcom Life of an Ex-Conn

So my life should be a sitcom and this morning proves it…

It started out like every other day. I slept in. I got the kids up and went downstairs. I quickly found that Hannah had another nose bleed (my sweet chow/collie mix is 15 and hasn’t been doing very well). The mudroom where she’s been sequestered looked like a scene from a Quentin Tarantino film. There was blood everywhere… walls, floor, rug… uggg… but I would have to deal with that after I got the kids ready for school.

Grace did a great job of getting ready and we were actually on time. It was a cold morning - plus I had yet to get dressed - so, I left her stand at the door and wait for the bus while I watched out the window in order to be able to see it as soon as it turned on our road. Gabe was watching our normal morning dose of Sponge Bob and Grace stood patiently when I saw it. “Crap, one of Nancy’s dogs.” My neighbor is notorious for letting her collection of dogs run amuck. Think Bumpuses’ mutts from Christmas Story and you’ll have a good idea. As the “dog” got closer… I quickly realized. “That’s not a dog. It’s a pony.” Yes, you read correctly. A pony was in my driveway. So, I asked the kids to catch Chicco (our puppy) and I started quickly getting dressed… pulling sweatpants and a shirt over my nightgown and jumping in my boots. As I gathered the dog leash - apparently to pull an Annie Oakley on the pony’s ass - I heard Grace yell to Gabe, “Help me get Chicco. Mommy is bringing the pony inside.” Laughing out loud I explained that I wouldn’t be brining the pony inside. I just wanted to try and catch it so that it didn’t get hit on the road.

Grace and I stepped out on the porch while Gabe screamed in the background, “I want to pet Nay Nay.” Apparently he had already named the newly found animal in the 2.2 minutes it took me to get dressed. Once out on the porch, the pony came around and I spoke to it. It spotted the only green spot of grass (thanks to our outdoor wood furnace) and began to munch. I walked over and touched his head and he looked at me as if to say, “WTF do you think you are going to do with that DOG LEASH?” I answered out loud, “I don’t know it was just a thought.”

At that moment the bus pulled up. I ran with Grace to catch it and I asked the bus driver if she recognized the pony. She said the escapee was from the house just before us and at that point I saw the owner coming our way.

I said my good byes to Nay Nay and went back into the house. Gabe greeted me with, “I wanted to pet Nay Nay.” and I explained that his mom had come to pick him up. He then looked out the window and ask, “Is that lady a horse.” In my head I secretly wondered if my son were Forest Gump and then assured him that no, the lady was not a horse.

Ok, still on track to get Gabe to preschool on time. Went and took my shower and got dressed. At the moment I stepped out into the living room it hit me. It hit me like a shit-pie would hit you if you were in a “Throw the Shit Pie at the Person’s Face” competition at some kind of sick fair.

My dear sweet Hannah (I have to keep saying that to remind myself that I love her very much) had pooped on the floor. She’s on cancer meds and isn’t herself but COME ON! Can’t the world cut me a bit of slack today? I walked over to where she was gated to find that not only had she pooped but she had pooped a lot and then had stepped, and played slip and slide in it so that it was everywhere… and yes, remember back… this is the room that was going to be the scene of Pulp Fiction 2. So, on top of the nasty, beyond gross blood, I now had poo everywhere. Obviously the poo could not wait until I returned.

I gathered my supplies and proceeded to clean the mess. First toilet paper, then paper towels, then a mop… dry heaving the entire way through the process. Scrub, gag, scrub, gag, scrub, gag….OMG.

As I started to get near the end I asked Gabe if he would get naked. I explained that we needed to change his clothes and get ready for school. Of course Gabe said, “I can’t.” But then… I quickly reminded him of the Gibby incident of 2010... “Gabe, you were just “Naked Gibby” the other day. You can get naked all by yourself now. He complained that I was calling him Gibby but giggled and got naked while I finished…scrub, gag, scrub gag, scrub gag.

As I gathered my supplies, I caught a glimpse of Naked Gabe. Remember… this is a sitcom. My son stood with his legs apart and was bent at the waist. He was thrusting his hips back and forth, giggling as his pickle flapped back and forth. I laughed out loud and without missing a beat, in his most serious voice, Gabe asked, “Mommy, is today naked day at school.” I explained while laughing that, “No Gabe. We don’t have naked days in preschool. Those days will come in college and mommy doesn’t need to know about them.”

After I finished cleaning the mess, I realize that it was 9:05. Gabe is already 5 minutes late for school. We hurry to get him dressed and teeth brushed. I slide on my shoes and coat and we head out the door. It took about 4 steps off the porch to realize that Birkenstock clogs with no socks wasn’t the best choice when you have about two inches of new snow. I ran Gabe to the van, which was covered with a mountain of snow and ice, and started it while I headed back in to grab different shoes. It was at that point I realized that I had yet to brush my hair after getting out of the shower. Nice. No makeup and wet hair - later Gabe will be in therapy for preschool mom days like this. I grabbed a scrunchie, different shoes and headed out.

Now that is why my life should be a sitcom.