Rita and the Crappy Carpet Caper

I'm more than a little frustrated with my boys this morning. In fact, I'm downright furious.

They woke me up an hour early.

Now normally, waking me up an hour early wouldn't be (too) big of a deal. Would I be a little irritated? Yeah. A little grumpy? Sure. But not furious.

It's why they woke me up an hour early that's got me seeing red. Or, more accurately ... brown.

Picture this: the dark sleepiness of predawn. I had heard my two oldest (7 and 4) up wandering around, but didn't think much about it - they usually just play around if they're up before we are. But here came Colin.

"Mommy! Cameron did something really, really bad!" he shrieked, dancing from one foot to the other.

For a few seconds, my bed had never felt more warm and comfortable, and I had never wanted to go back to sleep so badly. It was like my whole being was revolting against the inevitable ugliness of the "something really really bad" that I was about to encounter.

But really really bad things generally do not resolve themselves. I should know.

So grudgingly, I got out of bed.

And freaked. The eff. Out.

Apparently our nuisance of a chocolate Lab, Josie, had pooped on the living room floor at some point during the night. And apparently Cameron stepped in it. And apparently Colin was all like, "Hey Cameron, since you're already poopy anyway, why don't you just carry the HUGE PILE OF DOG CRAP back to our bedroom and SMEAR IT ALL OVER THE FLOOR?" Which apparently made perfect since to Cameron since HE DID IT.

How's that for a "crappy" wake-up call?

Poop was, like, ground into what I swear was at least half of the carpet. The fluffy loops of their blue hooked throw rug were so caked with poo that there was no salvaging it - there was no way I was putting that shit, pun totally intended, in my washing machine.

I don't like to - and try very hard not to - lose my temper. But y'all? I yelled. Like, loud. I've cleaned up more than my fair share of poopy messes in my day (see here or here or here or here or here for some prime examples. Yeah. I know. And that's not even all of them). But this one ... this one was baaaaaaad. Six o'clock in the morning, and I'm sitting there in the middle of the boys' bedroom floor, throat raw, head pounding, tears coming down, crying "This is gonna take a steeeeeeeeam cleeeeeeeaneeeeeerrrrrr!"

My initial thought was to make them clean it up themselves. But a.) they seem to actually enjoy playing in poop, and b.) it was gonna take an expert hand to clean up that carpet, not two little boys scrubbing the mess in deeper.

After 45-ish minutes, I had the situation pretty much remedied. But I was right: it's gonna take a steam cleaner. Y'all know how much I hate my carpet anyway. It's beige, which is like THE most impractical color when you've got four children two dogs and three cats. And whoever bought it forgot to get the nice stain-resistant kind because I'm not kidding when I say that water stains it. WATER. Needless to say, there's a good chance the kids' floor will be permanently poop-smudged. Like a ghost. A poop spectre looming up at me from the carpet every time I set foot in there, cruelly reminding me of the time I had a mommy-meltdown in the middle of all that feces.

After all that? I got to resume my usual morning tasks of getting everyone fed, dressed, and ready to school. Yay Monday!

The boys are grounded from their Wii and their computer for a week. That just doesn't seem like enough, though, considering the enormity of the mess I had to clean up. Any suggestions?


  1. O.M.G. I would have had a total freak out.

    I suck at punishments though... especially when some of the punishments seem to affect me more than them.

  2. Oh Rita!
    What a crappy morning. I would love to offer some great advice but I can't, and yes I have totally been there myself. I cried and steam cleaned and grounded...
    Breathe, but not too close to the poopey, for your own sake.

  3. Yuck! You have to wonder what goes on in their heads sometimes! (Okay, MOST of the time.) Not making them clean up is a wise decision on your part, though. You would probably have more of a mess to un-do. And why did Josie decide to poop in the living room, anyway? It's a conspiracy, I tell you!

  4. There isn't anything else you really can do as a form of consequence except maybe scoop the litter boxes every day(for the oldest) for a week????? AND I can say been there done that and I'm so very sorry for that wake up call!!

    It's funny my house is similar to yours only -1kid+2dogs.....sigh....

  5. OOOOMG. you had every right to lose your s#it on them. I would freak major big time! Do either of them have a piggy bank? Take $__ and tell them its the cost of clean up?

    When we were little my mom used to make us come up with our own punishments and it had to match the crime. It actually worked most of the time. Once my brother cried "no mommy! I don't want to do something that bad!" One the bright side your week kind of has to get better from here on up! :S


  7. I don't know how I came across your blog, but I am so glad that I did! I literally laughed at ths story so hard that I cried. I hope the steam clean up went well. In case something similar happens again, I'll share this story with you:

    My Dad & uncle wore nearly the same size when they were very young, so my Grandma sewed different colored dots into their underwear so she could tell them apart. Dad was red, uncle was blue. One day, my Dad had an accident & pooped his pants...bad. He threw the dirty undies in the washer, went back to playing, & didn't fess up about his incident. A few hours later, he & my uncle were sternly summoned to the garage (washer location) by my Grandma. She wanted to know who had thrown a crap-filled pair of undies into the washer, which apparently was full of clean clothes. Both denied the offense, but Grandma already knew who was guilty due to the blue dot sewn into the dirty undies. Unfortunately for my uncle, my Dad had grabbed a pair of his brother's undies to wear that day. Grandma turned to my uncle & said, "you know what happens to puppies when they poop on the carpet? You are old enough to know better than this!". My poor uncle had my Dad's dirty undies rubbed on his face (this part is hard for me to believe...) & to this day, my Dad claims my Grandma never found out the truth. He convinced his brother that their mean big sister was behind it.

    One day when my little guy gets into nasty poopy messes, I'm sure I won't be laughing!

    1. I was just going through my blog archives and read this comment ... every time it has me laughing so hard! This is the funniest story EVER!!!


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