The Mysterious Poop

Summer is SO busy. How is it busier than the kids being in school? How is my house such a disaster when we are gone so much? How am I such a hot mess when all there is to do is enjoy life and go on adventures?! 

I don't even know, ya'll. I don't even know. 

So if you're looking for a blog post with tips and tricks on how to survive summer, travel alone with kids, or healthy summer schedules, you're in the wrong place. 

I have actually attempted all of these, by the way, but, I wouldn't consider myself an expert on any but surviving. I'm still here so I suppose I deserve some credit there. 

I will however share a hilarious story about the joys of parenting, and a mysterious defecating  animal. If nothing else, it may make you feel grateful for your own challenges or parenting skills. 

You. Are. Welcome.

So for a few months now my husband kept coming across some poop on the lawn, just off the stone pathway at the base of our back deck. 

At first he would tell me in exaggerated annoyance that "my" cats (we have 2) were "shitting" on the lawn. I, of course, argued that cats burry their crap and it had to be his dogs (we have 7). 

The argument continued for weeks, escalating to the two of us standing over a steamy pile of poop arguing about what kind of feces it actually was. 

Too big for cat poop. Too fresh for dog poop, since they were kenneled. Always in the same spot. What on earth was doing this?  

On and on it went: YOUR cats. YOUR dogs. 

Then we removed some of our lawn to create a little patio next to the stone pathway. The issue seemed to have resolved itself for several days. 

Then one day while I was gone and my husband was watching the kids, his friend came over to check out our new patio. 

And there she was: our 4 year old daughter, who has relapsed from potty-training since preschool ended, standing on the edge of the grass near a steamy little pile of poop. Poop that was too big for a cat, poop that was too fresh for a kenneled dog. 

She quickly told this friend that the dog pooped on the grass but her guilty face was telling a completely different story. 

My husband then entered the scene and in complete shock questioned our daughter:
What's that?"
"Dog Shit." she replied. 
Somehow the guilt grew in her features. 
She stuck to her story for a long time,  creating a string of blaming excuses before she admitted that she had gone potty on the grass and needed some help wiping. 

My husband high fived her for not pooping her pants while mom was gone, explained to her that we need to go in the toilet from now on and had a great laugh with his friend. 

That night we rolled in laughter as we realized that all this time we had been arguing about who's animal it was and all along it was OUR little animal. 

We thought we were past it, but we had to endure a few more sneaky incidents, our four year old's attempted assurances that it was "dog shit," some talks about lying, and some tears.

Thankfully after a locked back door, a lot of patience and love, getting to the bottom of a fear of a toilet, a failed attempt to explain how toilets work and where poop goes when we flush which only caused more fear, and now constant potty-going support, we are finally getting somewhere. 

So, I guess my advice is: parenting is a shitty business sometimes, but we will all survive this. Right? 
 
And if all else fails: laugh and blame the dog.