Dingleberries and Sore Throats

Yes, you read that right.

First let me start by saying that being a Mom is truly one of the best gifts I have ever received. I feel eternally grateful that my son, who was and still is my miracle baby, is my greatest blessing in life. I am also very grateful for the new addition to our family, Daisy, our mini-goldendoodle. We love her unconditionally and can’t imagine our lives without her.

With that being said, let’s continue, shall we?

Like any parent working outside the home or in, the weekends are a glorious thing we all look forward to. If you are like me, it’s getting to sleep in a few hours longer than normal. Say 8:30am or even 9:00am versus 6-6:30am daily. (back in my younger days it was noon before I decided to grace the world with my presence, lol) I don’t even need my alarm clock any longer, the puppy wakes me up, on the money, 6:25 am, nine times out of 10, if not a few minutes earlier.

Nothing like a Saturday morning when you know you can lounge around and tumble out of bed whenever. Even if the dog wakes me she will go back to sleep if the rest of the family is still sleeping. Well…not this Saturday.

This Saturday, she decided to do her gentle bark as usual. Now, it was the gentle bark so I knew I had a few minutes to lay there until I had to actually get up to take her out. That gentle bark quickly turned into the louder more urgent bark. Well damn, I thought. I guess we’re doing this.

I get up thinking it’s our usual time, I grab my watch and put it back on because if I am walking her I am definitely getting my steps counted. When I looked to see the time, 5AM…I had to look again because I thought for sure I was mistaken. I was not. Sadly, I was not. So, I hoist myself up and release the hound from her crate and bring her downstairs.

Recently my landscaper put down some fertilizer, God bless him, I think he is trying to save our lawn. The downside is I am hyper-paranoid about her getting any of it in her paws and injesting it. So like any good Mom, I usually carry her out off the lawn to the sidewalk where she can safely do her thing. I know. I am such a sucker. Whatever. Well, what I have been doing is taking her out through the front door instead of the back door as usual which leads through our screened porch and off to the backyard. Thanks to the fertilizer I mentioned, it’s off through the front door, down the stoop and carried to the sidewalk.

I get her harness on, literally one eye open, and she is ready. Like she is pacing… doing the doggie pee-pee dance, no joke. So now I am panicking. Since I went to bed in sweats and a tank top, I am desperately searching for anything appropriate to wear in public to cover up the fact that I am bra-less.

Before you say anything let me be clear…these ladies have NO BUSINESS in public without restraints. I promise you. Over-the-shoulder-boulder-holders are an absolute MUST for me. But…it’s 5am, so I am thinking a sweatshirt should do it. (we have a lot of joggers and runners in my area) I just know that if I take the chance I will no doubt see someone and they will see me and things will never be the same for either of us again.

You know when you have a baby and you are on the way home from somewhere and you know that if the baby falls asleep in the car you are done for? Late napping makes for a bad night. You know how you will do anything to keep the baby awake, sing loudly, make noise, talk, point, play music etc., well this was a similar situation. I was talking to her constantly like my life depended on it, I kept trying to distract her while I found a shirt to cover myself with so I don’t give my neighbors something they can’t unsee.

I finally find the shirt, throw it on, albeit inside out, and run to the back door. Only to remember the issue with the lawn, AND realize her leash is by the front door. My whole house, a 1950’s cape is 1,100 sq ft. It’s not big. There I am in my sweatpants, inside out shirt and flip flops running like my hair is on fire to the front door to get the leash.

By the time I returned to retrieve my little pup, she was done. Right there on the floor of the dining room. At 5am on a Saturday morning. So there I was, when I should have been sleeping soundly, on my hands and knees with the cleaner wiping up pee. What was my choice? So now I am wide awake. But I still have a hope deep down that if we lay and snuggle on the couch I can still get an hour or two in. So I thought, hoped and dreamed.

I get on the couch. I get cozied up with my blanket and pillow and here comes little Miss Pissy Pants. We snuggle. All is well except I can’t fall back asleep to save my life. So I just lay there and watch it get lighter and lighter outside knowing the day is going to begin and I am absolutely screwed.

Fast forward, I am actually about to doze off (surprisingly) and I hear footsteps. As does the pup and we both look over to the stairs. I think it must be my husband because he is notorious for getting up early and doing things only to take a 2 hour nap in the afternoon. Why not just sleep in? That’s another blog post. Anyway, turns out, it’s my son. I think awe, he probably has to pee and will go back up. NOPE. He comes over to me with my one eye half open, breathes in my face with his hot raspy breath, ” MOM, I have a sore throat.” First of all, I love him, but do not get THAT close to my damn face with your sore-throat-morning-breath. I don’t care who you are. Of course I am sympathetic and ask him if he wants medicine for it after I grill him on his condition. I think he probably just slept with his mouth open but who knows. He says yes. So up I go, to the cabinet and grab a flashlight to take a look at his throat. It’s red but nothing really to talk about. He is speaking oddly and I ask him why and he explains he is playing it safe. (Mind you the kid does not have swollen glands and already had his tonsils out a few years ago.) So I give him some medicine and ask him if he wants to come snuggle on the couch with me or go back up to bed. Couch it is. Of course.

Back to the spot, adjust the blanket, the pillow, the positioning etc. The dog gets up comes over and gets in on the snuggle action. ON MY CHEST. Fine. This is my Saturday morning. I have accepted it. We lay like that for a while, meds kick in, son wants to start chatting it up. I just want to lay there in silence…husband comes down, it’s done. Sleeping in is gone, gone, gone.

After breakfast for all, and the much needed coffee at that point, I am once again snuggling with the pup. What can I say, I am the primary care-giver so naturally I am the den mother, the pack leader, etc. She wants a belly rub. So of course I oblige. Now I must be honest, having many dogs in my life of all different breeds she has the LEAST offensive rear-end in the world. I mean, it’s practically polite. I have had dogs that have had horrendously offensive ones and I swear they knew it and constantly shoved it in your face any chance possible.

To the point…while rubbing her belly I look down only to realize that my cute little toasted marshmallow, my little Daisy girl, my little fluffball, has two fat disgusting dried up DINGLEBERRIES on her bottom. (If you don’t know what a dingleberry is, Google it. It won’t disappoint.) This adorable pup spent nearly 45 minutes nestled on my chest under my chin. You know, RIGHT NEAR MY FACE. She’s still a puppy, only 11 pounds, easy to snuggle and apparently in the dim light of the early morning, VERY easy to miss the leftover turd-raisins sticking to her butt.

I don’t know what was worse, the realization that they were THAT close to my face for that amount of time or demoralizingly using a baby wipe to remove them.

Happy Saturday morning to me. In case you are wondering about my son and his sore throat… no, it wasn’t COVID, and he did feel a bit worse on Sunday, home from school today but certainly on the mend and will be back at school tomorrow.

The dog…well…the saga continues.

Welcome to my life as it happens.