I like the gamble of going out without the dogs. Who knows what the little shits will get up to while they’re alone. Like the time Spotty Crotch learned to open the doors but ripped his claw off in the process and made the house look like a scene from Carrie. Or when we couldn’t find the leather pig toy we’d bought them the previous week. They’d eaten it. Obviously.
Not too long ago I came home to the usual over excited greeting from Spotty Crotch and Poo Monster. An odour hit me on entry. Living with two dogs and two under two you get pretty good at identifying suspect smells but this one I could not figure out. I changed the bins, changed the kids, inspected the dogs for any ‘clingers’ (when you know, you know) but the scent was lingering.
To set the scene we have one of those nappy bins that take a bundle of nappies and turns them in to a plastic landfill sausage. We use a mix of cloth and disposables so the bin takes a while to fill up, roughly three weeks. Keep that in mind.
I kinda wish I hadn’t gone upstairs. I found three weeks worth of disposable nappies torn open and redistributed around the house. The house which now smelt worse than the communal toilets at the end of Reading Festival. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen the inners of a used disposable but it’s mainly wee soaked gel pieces that are IMPOSSIBLE to clean up. We have two vacuum cleaners, I killed them both. The dogs were also pooing gel. All. Day. Long. For a week.
But we’ve all been there right? Right?!
Maternity leave really is a holiday.