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Showering with My Dog

This is how I ended up showering with my dog.

My struggles with the morning routine and getting all of us out the door and into our lives on time and fully dressed continue to hit new levels of argh.  On Friday, everyone was ready, eating actual breakfast at the table and not on their laps in the car, and I felt sure I could grab a quick shower.  As I was heating up the water and preparing to join the ranks of the non-stinky, A– yelled, “Mommmm!  Spike hahz poop all over heez baht!”

See?  This is why I should never try to shower.  We were doing so well, then I reached too high.  Darn my morning aspirations of grandeur.

At this point, I was already committed to the shower.  There was no going back, so I scooped up Spike, affirmed that indeed, his back end was a hot mess, and plopped him and the doggy shampoo in the shower with me.  I had time for one bathing event and one only, so we would have to share.

This was a really unfortunate choice, and had I finished my coffee, I may have possessed the brain function to realize this before it was too late.

Alas, it was too late.

The warm water hit Spike’s fur and diarrhea exploded all over the floor of the shower.  I had ten minutes left before I had to pull out of the driveway with my crew, and I was standing naked in the shower covered in dog diarrhea from the knees down.

*High pitched scream like a grown man trying to scream like a little girl*

I doused him with shampoo, grabbed the shower head, and went to work on his backside.  He kept trying to get away, because who wants someone yanking on their butt fur anyway?  The stuff was stuck on there like drywall and by the time I got him clean, myself clean, and the shower clean, we were running late.

Of course.  Because always.

I raced to the school and made it just in time, saving A– from a note about dog poop to explain her tardiness.

Look at this face.  This is the face of a dog saying, “But look how cute I am!  Love me!”  And I do, Spike.  Yes, I do.  You big fat poop head.

After standing wet and naked in a pool of doggy diarrhea, really, the whole weekend could only go up.  And it did.

My high school girls spent the weekend at my house for our last retreat together before they graduate and scatter to colleges all over the South.  We reminisced over our seven spring retreats together, and here are some highlights:

Sixth grade: They taught me how to play Guitar Hero, and I took them to the mall.  Fifteen twelve-year-old girls in Hollister together.  Where was my brain?

Seventh grade: It rained all weekend and we went to the aquatic center to swim.  The lifeguard hit on me in front of them.  I had blocked this out.  This weekend, they were kind enough to remind me.

Eighth grade: This was the year of watching too much Ghosthunters, giving one of the girls a Sharpie mustache, and making a cheerleading pyramid.

Ninth grade: I was completely jet-lagged from my first trip to Ethiopia, but still managed to learn Just Dance on the Wii.

Tenth grade: I paired them up with the person in the group they knew the least and made them wash each others’ feet and pray for each other.  Because awkward and Jesus.  My two favorites.

Eleventh grade: We had our first Sole Hope shoe-cutting party, cutting old jeans into shoes, and I performed the entire opening monologue from Aladdin.

Twelfth grade: Speaking of Aladdin, this year, the organizers of the retreat asked kids to tweet “wishes” and they spent the weekend granting them like big genies in zip up hoodies.  One of my girls wished for her boyfriend to ask her to prom, and on the last night, they asked her up onstage, put a spotlight on her, and started playing “I Will Always Love You.”  He came out with a bouquet of tulips and I think she’s probably still shaking days later.

After we finished cutting shoes for Sole Hope, we tweeted a pic and wished for $150 to go toward the program to pay the stitchers in Uganda a fair wage to make the shoes.  On Sunday morning, the leaders invited the girls up onstage, had one of them explain Sole Hope in front of 400 of their peers, and granted the wish.

I love this so much, because it shows the students that when they use their “wishes” for the poor, to help families, to heal the sick, that people with power will listen.  Instead of asking for something for themselves, they asked on behalf of children who need healing and shoes and women who need jobs, and the leadership answered.  Making a difference starts with asking the people you know, with leveraging what you have on behalf of someone else.

So, let’s see, we started with dog diarrhea and ended with wishes to heal jiggers in Uganda.  Oh, and this is what my husband’s jeans looked like when we were done cutting them into shoes:

HAWT.  I asked him for a pic wearing them, but he wasn’t so sure.  He’s the one in the family with appropriate boundaries.

This was my weekend.  How was yours?


image from kathleenmelville1 at