This morning my neighbor came over to borrow my phone so she could call in sick to work. She had a hangover. While we were chatting in my kitchen, the gate in my yard was open long enough for my dog, Scout, to get out. A fact which I did not realize until about an hour later when I called for her to come and clean up the breakfast crumbs off the floor.
I swore, strapped my kids into their respective high chairs, and ran out the back gate where I immediately saw Scout across the street. She never goes far, she’s too loyal. She came as soon as I called her, and we rejoiced at her safe return by wrestling on the back deck.
It was at this point I realized she had rolled around in another dog’s poop.
I don’t know if all dogs do this, but mine always does whenever she gets the chance. It must be some sort of canine camaraderie thing. Thankfully, she never rolls around in her own poop, because I have plenty of that on hand.
So now my morning was delayed because I had to scrub the dog down with shampoo and water so my house wouldn’t smell like poop.
While Scout dried off on the front porch I took Thomas upstairs to change his diaper and get him dressed.
It was at this point I realized I was too late and he was soaked in pee, literally up to his arm pits.
I should have been leaving the house about the time I realized Scout was missing, but instead I became sidetracked by all these circumstances that were time consuming and frustrating, not to mention disgusting. I didn’t leave until ten minutes past the time I was supposed to be at my destination.
It was at this point I realized how comical my morning had been, and I found myself laughing.
I laughed through tears when I realized I lacked the tension of rage in my chest. I began sobbing when I realized I was rushed, late, AND sidetracked by things out of my control, yet I didn’t lose my temper or take it out on my kids.
I let it go.