Watch What You Grab to Eat!

You better watch what you grab to eat at the Dobson House this week. We've got poop in the fridge and a dead rat in the freezer.

Now I am not a notoriously clean housekeeper, but I have always tried to keep a level of cleanliness that would keep us from being shut down by the Federal department of health and safety. However this week has compromised my standards.

Seth had to have a full physical after coming home from China. This included a stool sample to rule out Giardia (which Becca brought home with her). I started first thing in the morning by lining his diaper with plastic (somehow the chemicals in the diaper react with the fecal material and change it's chemical composition, so it must be collected with plastic). The problem with using plastic to line the diaper is that the diaper doesn't absorb any urine. It all runs out through the leg. Now when you're packing this little tyke in a front pack, and the urine runs out the leg, guess who gets soaked in pee? Yep, that would be me.

Now normally Seth has his daily constitutional in the morning so I decided to persevere, even at the risk of being soaked in pee again. All morning, no sample! Perhaps during his nap? No sample. More leaking pee. Afternoon, no pooh, just pee, all over me. We're having fun by this time. I start to worry if we'll be able to collect our specimen. I called the lab. They closed at 7:00. I started praying he would produce the specimen so we could rush it to the lab. Still no specimen. I called the lab shortly before they closed. "What do I do if I get the specimen after you close?" "You must keep it refrigerated until morning or we won't be able to use it." How could she say this calmly like it was no big deal to stick a pile of pooh in the fridge.

At 7:02, he finally pooped. The lab was closed. I called Derek in to help me collect the specimen in the cup. The things they never tell you when you sign up to be a parent! He suggested that since the lab was closed, maybe we just wait and try tomorrow for a specimen. "Are you kidding? I'm not spending another day covered in pee trying to collect poop!" "What are you going to do with poop?" he asked. "We'll just put it in the fridge until morning" and I said it just as calmly as the lab lady. I did put it in a brown lunch sack and staple it shut, so that I wouldn't have to see a blob of pooh staring me in the face (yes the specimen cup was clear) every time I opened the fridge.

Now when you live in a big family the good food goes quick, and if something looks new and interesting you'd better put dibs on it quick. Several of my children came to ask, "What's in the brown lunch sack?" "Pooh, Seth's pooh" I replied as calmly as the lab lady, like this was the most natural thing for them to find in the fridge. I'm sure they silently vowed to be more careful about what they grabbed out of the fridge.

Now my Carlie loves animals. I've never been much of an animal lover myself, but I have allowed pets primarily because of Carlie. Carlie also suffers from middle child syndrome (4th of 7) and so she enjoys the 'shock' value of life. When she turned 8 she wanted to use her birthday money to buy rats. For several months prior to her birthday she told me of her plans. I told her, "Carlie, I love you, but I don't think I can do rats." She persisted, I persistently refused. Her birthday came and we went to the pet store. We were looking at Hamsters and Gerbils and I was asking the pet-shop lady about which she thought would be better. "Actually," she said, "Have you considered rats?" I looked at Carlie who was beaming. This had to be a set up, but I knew it couldn't have been. She then gave me her spiel about why rats are such great pets. We walked out half hour later with two female rats, sisters.

I have since repented of my earlier prejudices about rats. They have been wonderful pets, great with my kids and very intelligent. But their tails still creep me out and I never hold them. Carlie has adored them (and enjoyed scaring quite a few people with them as well). On Friday morning Carlie went with her Dad on a quick trip he had to take to Las Vegas. Shortly after they left that morning, Gregory came in and told me "Stripey isnt' moving and her eyes are open." When I went to investigate, "Stripey" was dead. I knew how broken hearted Carlie would be. I called her. They were still several hours outside of Vegas and wouldn't be home until the next day. When I told her she sobbed and sobbed. "Carlie, would you like me to bury her?" "No, I want to see her one last time and have a funeral" I had anticipated that would be her wishes, but I was worried about how fast little "Stripey's" body would decay and I didn't want her to look too awful by the time Carlie came back. So I found a shoe box, filled it with stuffing, covered it with a cloth and laid out Stripey. A true act of Mother love. I put the lid on the box and then stuck it in the freezer. I put rubber bands to make sure everything stayed IN the box. Once again my children sniff out anything new and interesting, "What's in the shoe box in the freezer Mom?" "That would be Stripey's dead body. You'd better not eat her, Carlie wants to see her in one piece."

And so, everyone at the Dobson house is just a bit more cautious when they look in the fridge and freezer for something to eat!