of pee and poop

Lessee. I wrote a post yesterday and even published it here for a few minutes but then I promptly deleted it. Believe me, you should thank me. I wasn't in the best of moods.

I was in the process of scarfing up some mini M&Ms I found hiding in the back of my pantry to go along with the bottle of wine I was swilling while watching Marlo Thomas discuss case after case of children at St. Jude's hospital. Just as I'd choke back tears from one tragic story, she'd start in on another smiling baby...again, and again, and again. I have no idea why I tortured myself like that. Once it started it was almost like I wanted to see just how much I could take. So I finally came in here to the office, my poor body wracked with sobs, dragging along my empty wine bottle with my little hands which were all stained red and green from the M&Ms (aren't the green ones the happy-pills?) and after removing my head from the keyboard, every tragic thought I'd had in the last year just came pouring out onto my blog. It wasn't even very well written.
Pathetic.

But no worries! It's all been erased and you don't need to suffer through it.
Tonight, I've only had half a glass of wine, NO M&Ms, several bottles of water (have you heard, it's HOT outside?), and no Marlo Thomas, thankyouvermuch.

Now about this new puppy of ours - Ms. Roxy.
SIGH
First, I'd totally forgotten how frustrating it is to housebreak a puppy. It's kind like giving birth, only totally different, you know. I guess we're wired to forget certain things like birth, housebreaking dogs, and pounding our heads against brick walls, with the idea that we'll keep doing it again and again and again if we don't remember.
On the advice of my dog-wise friends, we're doing it with a crate this time. Theoretically, it makes perfect sense! Theoretically, I'm psyched about it!

In reality, I spent the hours between 5pm and 9:30 pm tonight either standing in the SWELTERING heat while watching a goofy dog who was too busy chasing butterflies and cocking her cute little ears at the sounds of chattering squirrels to realize it was approaching NINE HOURS since she'd last peed, or I was inside fretting over the fact that our new puppy was going to spend her ENTIRE LIFE in her little black-wired jail. I even sat by her with the newspaper and tried to read it with one arm awkardly stuck inside the prison cell with her. I think I only managed to further convince her I really am an idiot who doesn't know how to train dogs.

And yeah, I don't know what was up with that nine hour stretch. She's not gone more than, say 45 minutes or seconds between the pees she puts on the carpet.

So then at 9:30, there was much rejoicing. We sang, we danced, we showered her with dog treats! And she was so happy! And she pranced and danced with us and ran into E's room, which, as you must know, is the perfect place to POOP.

(no fretting - eagle-eye mom grabbed her and sailed down the stairs with only a few stumbles into the pitch black while shouting for a leash and a light and it only took 5 minutes or so for poor frightened Roxy to recover enough to finish up...OUTSIDE.

So see? The crate training worked. Theoretically.

I have no idea how long this process is going to take, but I can tell you that theoretically, it is much too long.