Not that everyone else has been waiting in as much suspense as I have; wondering WHEN he was going to propose, and if he ever even thought about proposing any time soon!!!
Then finally, the week of my birthday, and also the week of John's vacation off of work came!!!
He had been hiding his phone all week. I was going nuts trying to pry information out of him, only establishing that my Mom was privy to the information that I was being deprived of.
"What's in your phone that I can't see?" I'd ask.
"Something." John said coyly.
"What kind of something???" I implored.
"Something for your birthday," He would say, resisting the urge to laugh at his own hilariousness.
"WELL what kind of something for my birthday?" I insisted.
"A birthday something." We usually left it at that, with me wanting to kill John, but also the opposite of kill him which would probably be not to kill him. (This conversation happened at least once a day in the days leading up to my birthday.)
I love surprises, and I love to try to figure out what they are even more.
The day before my birthday, May 25th, my friend Samantha came over to hang out. We had BLT's for lunch and my dog Pepper stared with a watering mouth while our other dog Amber paced around anxiously, making sad puppy eyes as she sulked past us and we continued to eat without giving her anything.
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| Amber and Pepper |
John had to go on another mystery errand, which he got the full 3rd degree on (see previous conversation), leaving Samantha and I finishing our lunch and chatting away. Baby John had been doin' his thing, watching Baby Genius on Netflix, but was starting to get fussy. I went and got him from his Jumperoo and was standing there next to Sam when she said, "I think he pooped!" Sure as the sky is blue, I had simultaneously felt the sticky feeling of poop on my arm, and when I looked, it had, in fact, leaked out of the back of his diaper and through his shirt. I carried him precariously into the bedroom, Sam following behind, both of us laughing about the incident.
Let me interject my own story just to tell you all how much I LOVE cleaning up baby poop smushed up the back. It's kind of like my own personal challenge, where I see how efficiently I can take his dirty clothes off without smearing it on his head. NOT. Although, I do try not to smear it on his head. Pretty much, the Jumperoo is the most amazing thing ever invented, unless John poops while he's bouncing in it...then it's just another stupid toy that I hate! LOL.
Back to the story. We are standing there, I am MID WAY through POOPAY and it smells SO BAD. Literally the worst smelling poop he has ever had. So BAD that Samantha exclaimed, "OH MY GOD, his poop STINKS!" I just looked at her and laughed, and when I did I realized that on the floor between where we stood there was a big pile of dog poop on my carpet!!! AGH!
Not a happy Mommy! We laughed so hard though. The LOLs just kept comin', but I'm going to blame it on the fumes though, because if you saw a pile of dog poop this big and this squishy looking on your carpeted floor you would have to be high on poop fumes to think it was funny too! No lie.
So who pooped? Well, thankfully, my son wasn't the evil culprit of the poop stink, but my dog Amber was. You know all that walking around anxiously? Staring into our eyes begging for BLT? That was only 10% begging for BLT and 90% "it's about to rain outside, I'm getting anxiety, and I refuse to go to the door when I have to poop so you BETTA READ MY MIND." Amber does not go to the bathroom in the house...normally...but when she does it is because she thinks that she has made it absolutely clear that she had to go because she paced around the house looking cray. Like anyone could POSSIBLY know what that meant.
So, that was great. I cleaned it up. It took forever. It was runny, and gross, and I felt a temporary hatred for all domesticated animals. Then I got over it, cause you know, she had anxiety, and that's kind of pitiful. Sam and I walked out into the living room and there on the floor was a huge puddle of water that Amber had first gulped down (again because of her anxiety) and then threw back up. YAY. I guess I don't mind dog throw up so much, but if that dang dog could understand how much we spent on paper towels she wouldn't be off the hook so easily. Sam went home, John came back from his little "errand," and I told him about the events that unfolded when he was gone.
I pressed him with more questions about where he went as he walked around the house and went back into the bedroom. Naturally, I just happened to glance at the floor and there it was... A PUDDLE OF DOG DIARRHEA.
WHY?
WHY? WHY? WHY?
This time, John, sweet, loving, amazing John, cleaned up the dog poop. We laughed about it, despite how ridiculous and awful it was.
"I told you, this day has been ridiculous," I said, both of us shaking our heads. Ready to relax and recover from this crappy experience, we headed back to the living room. There at the end of the hall was a puddle of dog pee. That's right guys. It was like The Nightmare of the Excreting Canines -By Amber and Pepper. It was an all time record.
That was the day before I got engaged!
On that note, I will leave you feeling appalled for me while you wait for the juicy stuff in part 2. :)
There will be a picture of my ring in the next post!
Bye guys.
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