Everybody's puking, everybody's pooping!!

Yesterday morning, I felt a little sluggish, so I decided that instead of bringing my Labradoodle Marley's crate in from the trunk of my car, I'd block off the back room and let her roam free while we were at work. My bags, that I also did not feel like putting away, were "securely" placed in an area that I thought the dog wouldn't be able to get into nor would she be able to open the bag.

I should never underestimate the smarts of a poodle and the determination of a Labrador. That troublemaker not only got into my overnight bag, she took out all of my jewelry - thankfully didn't eat any of my valuables - ingested a Benadryl and licked clean my new container of skin cream. I knew I didn't need to call the vet, because the skin cream was all organic and made from natural ingredients, but I also knew that the result of her boredom and my stupidity would not leave me unpunished.

At about 6 p.m., Marley started puking, and shortly after that she had the runs. At roughly the same time, Matthew decided that he was going to poop up his back, get it into his hair, and then roll around so that it would seep through his clothes, onto the floor and all over mommy's white t-shirt. I put Eric on dog duty, and brought Matthew straight upstairs and into the bathtub.

When he decided he was done with the bath, he reached up and climbed into my arms soaking wet. I'm so glad I had just minutes before changed my shirt. He still needed his hair washed, so instead of making him upset by putting him back into the tub to finish up, I thought it'd be a brilliant idea to wash his hair in the sink. It would have worked out perfectly, except  I forgot to move a glass from the counter and Matthew promptly picked it up and threw it on the floor, shattering it into teeny tiny little pieces. I then moved my foot a fraction of a centimeter and stepped on the tiniest piece I could find so it embedded into my big toe and disappeared. It's only remnants was the stabbing pain that shot through my foot with each step I took. 

The remainder of the night consisted of a whiny 8 month old, a sick dog and a very cranky mommy. I'd like to thank my husband who cleaned up the glass and the rugs, and then put the baby to bed so that mommy could get some much-needed peace and quiet.