"mom, there's a poop on the floor"

surely i did not hear that right. i open one eye, only to view a grey furry cat cheek. awesome. i often wake to this view as phae (fuzzy bitch one) sleeps on my pillow. i thank the stars she is not a farter...she is a lady afterall.


"mom? did you hear me???" 7:41am (damnit!!!)


i trudge up the stairs and find the boy, who has shed his footie jammies and is plopped deep in the recliner in a nest of scary bunnies. scary bunny is his life friend. had him since his second easter...it is lime green and the stuffing is centered in only two parts of it's enormous body from being well-loved...and just flat out creepie. two years ago, bailey gave dominic it's sister, strawberry, who was practically brand new and hot pink, so i have years of these freakie stuffies to enjoy. they seemed like a good idea when i bought them. i have to figure out how to put pictures on here so you too can experience the horror.


i look around the living room, and indeed, there is a tootsie roll laying in the middle of my carpet. now, granted, this is the carpet that caught fire a couple weeks ago thanks to a faulty extension cord that is going to be replaced in the next couple weeks, but still. "you can't get a tissue and pick this up?" i ask. the boy just stares at me. so that's a no.


as i go to gingerly pick up the treasure with a tissue, both of the fuzzie bitches are now staring at me. i hate them sometimes. as i kneel down, literally cursing them, i feel a cold sensation in the knee of my jammie pants. ACK! i have kneeled in cat puke!!! ack ack ack!!! no poo is this, but a neatly bound, COLD, barfed up hairball. OOOOOOOOGGGGG!


the dance begins. my wrist snaps and the treasure flips across the living room, with the cats in hot pursuit. the boy begins squealing, first in horror as the vomit package flies by, then in laughter as mom begins convulsing with the willies. as i hop around the living room, peeling off the puke-kneed pants, mimzy (fuzzie bitch number two, and the trouble maker) begins to bat the puke package across the kitchen floor. at this point my gag reflex kicks in and i stiffle what can only be described as the sound a bull frog makes, only with more force. "MIMZY!!!" dominic is yelling and goes to rescue the tissue, which he picks up and tosses in the garbage.


"you couldn't have just done that in the first place?" i ask, sitting on the floor (not in the puke spot), wadding up my soiled fuzzie jammie pants.


"well...yeah," he says sheepishly,"but that sure was funny."