The Rug Doctor Kicked My Ass

My husband, Jon, and my father in law, Bob, are on a golf trip to South Carolina. For 6 days. That leaves me alone with the kids, the dogs, and my mother in law. For 6 days. Awesome.

Now, we get a nurse during the night for help with Grammy, who is wheelchair bound. So my job isn't impossible. But it's days like this that it's still REALLY FUCKING HARD.

Yesterday I decided to be a rock star. My sister was around to help with the kids, so I decided to clean the carpets. Last week, when I first came up with this genius idea, I discovered that my carpet cleaner was broken. I should have taken this as a sign from the Lord that I was not meant to clean carpets. But no.

I was a rock star.

So I went to the supermarket and rented the Rug Doctor. Those industrial sized carpet cleaners.
I hauled that mother back to the house and begin my mission.
The boys were gone, and they would come home to a beautiful home with wonderful kids, well fed dogs, and clean friggin carpets. Not the urine soaked mess those lazy bastards left in the first place, but that is another story.

Anyone know about the Rug Doctor? Those suckers work really well, but they weigh about as much as I do, and it takes about 4 gallons of water to fill and drain. And fill and drain.
And fill and drain.

So my sister is watching Jonny, chatting with Grammy, and I am beginning my mission. Hauling and pulling that big hummer around the family room. Slowly, because it works better. Twice. By the end of one room, I am sweating.

I take a little family time break to regain my breath and energy, and I move upstairs. I repeat this madness, and I get out all the evil dog and children related stains. Eureka!
It only took about 6 hours, breaks included, to do the whole damn house.

I was sweating like a whore in church, and my upper body was killing me from hauling that sucker up and down and all around the house. But dammit. I cleaned the carpets.
And they were spectacular.

And as an added bonus, the kids LOVED pretending that the Rug Doctor was chasing them from room to room.

BAM! Built in family fun.

I am a domestic Goddess.

Then I decide to do the family room again, just to make it gleaming, and it is.
I am so AWESOME.

I put the ginormous rug doctor in the trunk of the car, ready to return the thing to the store in the AM, hoping to never see it again. I cook us all a decent meal, it even had veggies, and we all tucked in for the night.

This morning, I get the little angels out of bed and stumble down the steps to make much needed coffee. When Daddy is gone. the game of Musical Beds can get a little complicated. Not much sleep for Mommy.

So I go downstairs to discover that one of the dogs has POOPED ALL OVER THE FAMILY ROOM CARPET! My pristine carpet that I shampooed with the equivalent of a Buick, three times.
Gross, runny, sticky poop.

I grumble myself outside to get the damned Rug Doctor out of the trunk, and here we go again.
I had to do two more passes with the Buick to get the crap out, literally.

So by 8:30 this morning I was sweating and smelled like carpet cleaner and poop. And I don't think I have any feeling left in my right arm.

Then Jon calls at 9am, from the golf course, just to check in on us and see how we're doing.
Poor bastard.
He found out all right.

I love when the boys have their quality time. They deserve it. And we end up having fun too.

But I am done with the rock star shit. And as soon as the boys come home I am taking myself OUT!
shopping.
a lot.