Monday, November 26, 2012

Life With the Poop Brigade

Today is day three, or is that day four with the Poop Brigade.  So far, fingers crossed, knock on wood, don't step on a crack, spin three times in a circle and count to ten, all is quiet on the western front.  (Well technically this is the eastern front.) The kids have been good, well goodish.  One or two melt downs but that is to be expected from a three year old and a one year old.  The oldest one has asked where mom is about once a day and seems satisfied when I tell her that she is still on her trip.  The youngest, and by far poopiest, seems satisfied to accept me as a surrogate mom. 

I've done a few things to make life a bit easier for myself.  First I packed up about three thousand small bits and pieces of toys, which is about 3/4's of what they actually have to play with, and put them downstairs so I wouldn't have to spend two additional hours a day picking that shit up.  So far neither of them have noticed anything unusual or missing, and are quite contented with the remaining crap.  Second I took the Tent of Death and put that downstairs with the rest of the toys.  The oldest one decided to carry it out of the play room for the hundredth time and went ass over tea kettle down the stairs.  Lucky for her I was just coming up to yell at her about it for the hundredth time and was there to catch her before she did serious damage to herself.  And third, I have been making sure that they are hydrated, fed, and clean the majority of time.  Well clean when they are in the house at any rate. 

Actually the dogs have been more of a pain in the butt then the kids.  Which reminds me, Thing One and Thing Two are both sleeping, the sun is shining, so instead of sitting here and typing I will leave hubby in charge and go for a walk. 


  1. Isn't he 2?

  2. Well, I'm proud of you. You made it through! No blood, no foul I guess. Next time, the poop brigade will be older but not yet legal to make margaritas. Nice work, not taking them to the hunting grounds nearby.

    1. Hi Laura, yes I survived and so did they. Now I plan to spend some joy, joy time in silent reflection. Well silence anyway. It is golden after all.

  3. Ha ha ha. Grond knows the ages of your grand poops better than you. LOL. I'm really actually quite thankful it was the hell hounds that were more of a pain in the arse than the brigadians themselves.