Kermit the Frog once sang, "It's not easy being green." But around here we have an awful lot of brown. Yes, I am speaking of that which we all do in the privacy of our bathrooms. (or fishbowls, birdcages, cat boxes, dog runs, or diapers at my house)

First, there is the beta fish who lives a peaceful, aquatic life in a big bowl on the coffee table in the family room. (he is known simply as "The Freidman") Once every couple of weeks I get the "pleasure" of fishbowl cleaning. Amazing how much poo one small fish can make in 14 days.

The bird is not so bad. She goes on a paper towel at the bottom of her cage. And it doesn't even really smell. It's just funny looking.

Then there is the cat. As luck would have it, her litter box maintenance was relegated to my dear spouse when I found out I was expecting our first son. Six years later, I've yet to reclaim the privilege of scooping and sifting. Sue me.

Next comes the dog. Once again, my lovely husband drew the short straw. But that is mostly because himself and I differ on the "appropriate" way to remove her waste from the backyard. I would like to use a wonderful little device widely available at such emporiums as PetsMart and Petco, known as the Pooper Scooper. Where as he, being the frugal Scottish man that he is, prefers to simply cover his garden-gloved hand with a newspaper bag and scoop the poop himself. Personally I think the twenty some bucks one might spend on a Pooper Scooper is worth it. There are many things that I would have no problem viewing at close range (diamonds, Faberge eggs, Irish lace doilies) but dog doo is not on the list. So in his refusal to part with a bit of green, this remains his job.

On to the six year old. Someone who recently "clogged the crapper" (his father's vernacular) with the copious amounts of toilet paper he used to "clean up" following a "sit down". I am certainly no toilet tissue expert, but it is my understanding that one should not have to use half a roll of 2-ply to tidy up an area roughly the size of a quarter. Even using this much t.p. he still struggles with competence in this task. Later he'll tell me "it itches" and then I must perform with a wet wipe a little maneuver I like to call an "area re-visit".

And, the twins. They are 7 months old now and began eating "big boy food" four weeks ago. Now, while this dietary change has decreased the frequency of bowel movements, it has drastically changed them. What was once a watery, yellowish, non-malodorous daily event has become....well, much more colorful and smelly, if a bit more infrequent. A luminescent orange-ish following a carrot meal, decidedly green-ish in hue the day after peas, and I can't yet bring myself to talk about the prunes, except to say that I shan't be buying those again in the near future.

Finally we've come to the Chieftain of the Big Poo Tribe, my scatologically blessed beloved. He who is now required, by a majority vote, not only to stuff a towel in the crack between the bottom of the door and the floorboards but must also light a Glade candle ("Fresh Laundry" scent seems to work best) while visiting what he likes to call "his office". (Personally, I think this is the true reason we own a laptop. Although he loaded software on it like Excel, I happen to know he sits in there surfing for sports scores and 80's song lyrics, neither of which are even remotely work related.) He is also the reason we spent a princely chunk of change retro-fitting "his" bathroom with the Cadillac of Commodes, the American Standard "Champion".

http://www.americanstandard-us.com/Tools/BestFlush/default.aspx
(if you're interested in watching a video of this particular model in action)

It is, as my husband would tell you, the toilet that Tim "The Toolman" Taylor would've invented had the show run one more season. But we still keep the plunger and the drain snake in the garage, just in case. Warranty, be damned.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to use the bathroom.