poop.

okay, let's be honest with each other.  i've already failed at my new years resolution.  have you?
i worked out 3 times last week, instead of the planned 5, and only one of those i woke up early for.  i read last week that "sleep is the new sex" and, looking at the past seven days, i'd have to agree.  at 7:30, when the alarm goes off, i don't want a better body, i don't want health, i don't want energy for the day or vitality or endorphins - i want sleep!  and, like a primal instinct, at that hour the thought of not sleeping seems ridiculous, insane, just plain wrong.
i'm addicted.
i'm a wimp.

but, for arguments sake, let's say that i made a resolution that was a little too tough, a bit... unmanageable.  my dear friend Cori suggested i add one additional workout session a week instead of trying to go from 2 to 5 workouts instantly.  now, that seems wise doesn't it?  i'm going to have to consult her before making my resolution(s) public next new year.

now, to the topic of poop.
one lovely holiday eve i was ganged up on by my entire family.  my daughter cried herself to sleep, my husband and mother talked to me well into the evening - the topic?  pets.  i had planned on buying my kids turtles for Christmas.  i confess i was thinking of the movie Eloise, where she has her little turtle ambling along the floor, and she talks to it and dresses it up in bows for the holiday.  cute.  contained in an aquarium.  not smelly.  easy to care for. 
so, off my mother and i went to PetSmart, bright eyed and bushy-tailed.  we found the first worker who would make eye contact and pronounced "we're here to buy turtles!" to which we heard the reply "turtles are illegal in Saskatoon". 
excuse me?
yes.  illegal.  something about the threat of salmonella.
so, dejected we went home.  i thought it wise to let the kids know that, hey, mommy tried!  but, this was my first mistake.  i dangled the candy in front of my daughter's nose and cruelly stole it away.  hence, tears. 
scott's only pet he's ever had has been a gerbil.  so, he's partial.  and my mother hates to see her grandkids cry about anything.  my dad stayed decidedly silent.  and i caved. 

my children are the proud owners of two gerbils - blackie and caramel.  they love their gerbils, they are doing quite well caring for their gerbils, and as far as pets go, they really don't require much effort on my part.

except
for
the
poop.

i have beautiful thick piled carpet on two of my four floors (it's a split level home).  there's no way i'm going to let poo fall into it only to resurface during a family board game or while i'm working out in the TV room.  and, i am too compassionate (though it's waning) to have the pets in the basement where they would be removed from most human engagement.  so, that leaves my main floor.  which means, my kitchen.  not in the middle of the kitchen, not in the actual cooking area (don't get all foodsafe on me), but by the back door, which is by the table.  which is where we eat.

no one else in the family seems to see the problem with this scenario.  they seem to think it's no big deal to find a little piece of poop on the floor and pick it up and throw it out.  with their fingers. 
i however am sweeping on the hour, throwing dirty looks at the rodents and finding new rules to enforce daily. "no leaving the corner when you're holding them!" "no using my mixing bowls as play areas!!" "no letting them walk on the table!!!"  my children's skin is soon to fall off their hands from all the sanitary washing i'm prescribing. 

i seriously don't know how long i'll be able to handle this.  poop is ruining my sacred space of home!

part of me is hoping that i'll get over it, and will join the family in casually handling rodent feces.  part of me wants them dead.

i seem to have reached the point where i would rather have cleanliness than animal affection.  i thought i was a pet person.  i was wrong.  i recognize that this is a first world problem (as my last blog entry explores), but i also don't think a woman living in a grass hut made from cow dung would welcome pet poop into her eating space either!!

please keep blackie and caramel in your prayers.  no, scratch that.  please keep my children in your prayers as they have a lunatic for a mother.
and send rubber gloves.