Oh Good. Poo.

August 15, 2012 By 3 Comments

Yes, I know I have two boys.

So therefor, by the laws of stereotypes, I should expect guns and Action Man and Ben 10 and fart noises and cowboys and cars and the like. So when I heard:

“Isaac! Go to prison! I’m going to poo on your face!”

I was a little alarmed, to say the least.

I didn’t bat an eyelid at first, but the poo obsession is ever lurking.

When Noah is taking a poop on the toilet, Isaac pretty much insists on lurking behind Noah, trying to see into the toilet while Noah backs one out. The intrigue and curiosity on his face makes me smirk a bit.

And of course it doesn’t stop there. If one of them is taking a dump, the other often requires a running commentary on what’s happening. Sometimes, quite literally, blow-by-blow (push-by-push) action.

“Is it coming out now?”

“No, it’s a bit stuck. And a bit spikey.”

“Oh. Do you need to push a bit harder?”

“Yes. And I think it’s going to smell.”

*sniffs* “Yes, it smells, I can smell it. Can you?”

And so on and so forth.

It’s a Stage They’re Going Through. I understand that. but I was hoping a) it wouldn’t happen for another few years yet, and b) that I would have carefully planned being able to deal with this until they’re about 20. Or until they get kicked out the house, whichever comes sooner.

Until then I’m going to continue trying to decide if I’m repulsed or amused by conversations which go

“Oo, oo, this poo is a bit soft. And fast.”

“Why is it fast?”

“I don’t know, but it just made my bottom wet.”

“Did it splash the water?”

“No. The poo was a bit wet. Does yours splash?”

“Sometimes, yes, and it tickles my bottom.”

For real.

Filed Under: Conversations, Isaac, Noah, parenting, Poopgate, pooping, Stuff to make you laaaauuuuuuugh

So, we just sit around talking shit, in detail.

February 1, 2012 By 1 Comment

Isaac sits down on the potty and goes quiet.

MBM: are you doing a poo, Isaac?
Isaac: No.
MBM: You have the same poo face as Noah. Give it up, I know you’re doing a poo.
Noah: I know he’s doing a poo, I can smell it.
I: Ok, I doing a poo.
MBM: Have you finished Isaac?
I: No
N I can smell it Isaac; it smells like you’ve finished.
I Ow!
N Does it hurt Isaac? Is your poo hurting you?
I Yes.
N Is it spiky, Isaac?
I Yes, it’s spiky.
MBM: OK NOAH, I think you can leave Isaac and his poo alone now…

At least it’s not taboo, eh?

Filed Under: Conversations, Isaac, Noah, pooping, wtf

January 18, 2012 By

Ahhh. When you have kids, no one, NO ONE warns you of all the shit that awaits you on the other side.

Like, piles. And losing your sanity. And your missing pelvic floor.

And a hernia!

Yeah. A hernia.

I appreciate it isn’t a universal mothering thing. I also appreciate that two 11lb babies will WRECK YOUR INSIDES.

I don’t blame the boys.

Much.

I decided to ask Dr Twitter last night about hernias, *cough* for a friend *cough* (I think they were on to me), and had responses such as “l” and “” and also ““. I thank you, twitter, I love that you can always reassure me.

So after the peace of mind from Dr Twitter, the natural progression obviously was to go read up on Dr Google. And then I spotted stern warnings from and m which pretty much secured the deal of making an appointment with the doctor today.

The hernia thingy isn’t there all the time. Only, um, when I’m on the loo straining like a bitch. There’s nothing like squeezing like crazy and then suddenly having to pop a little bit of your insides back into where they should be. Whilst doing everything you can to not yell out in pain. (It’s a bit uncomfortable causing such alarm for everyone else in the house, and quite frankly, I’m not entirely happy having someone banging down the door while I’m on the crapper.)

My doctor is awesome. If she ever leaves, I suspect I may never go to the doctor’s surgery again. Previous experience with doctors has NOT made me feel good. Anyway, she had a poke around my stomach and congratulated me on fixing my diastasis recti (FUCK YEAH, no more pyramid belly for me). And then she poked a bit on the side and well, yeah, it didn’t look promising.

So! I have a hernia, though I don’t know which one because there are LOADS of them. It might be ok left alone, or I might be looking at keyhole surgery. There’s a consultant surgeon appointment winging it’s way to me in the next week or so, and an ultrasound scan to have a good look around. I’d rather not have surgery. I have no fear of going under the knife and all that (if they have to do open surgery), but I just can’t be arsed with even more scarring. My body is scarred enough as it is, and they are rubbish at fading. I have burn scars on my neck and arms which have been there for 32 years.

I really don’t want any more.

Vain? Yeah, probably. But what’s even bigger than worrying about scarring, is finding yet another something wrong with me. I’m tired of being broken, it’d be nice to be fully functional without assistance, you know?

Oh. How. Wonderful. *sigh*

 

Filed Under: Fucked-Up-Ness, illness, Mutha-Hood, Poopgate, pooping, , Ultimate Stresssss, wtf

Super-Poo

July 19, 2011 By 11 Comments

Me: Noah are you doing a poo on the potty?

Noah: Yes

Me: You know you should use the toilet upstairs, right?

N: I know mommy, but I don’t want it to drag up the stairs.

Me: *suppresses singgering*

N: *Looks at me with his “I’m having a dump” face, then squats over the potty*

Me: Have you finished Noah?

N: Yes mommy.

Me: Sit back down then, let me find the wipes.

N: I can’t mommy, because it’s like a big banana poking my bottom.

…

I wonder if the entire summer holiday will be like this.

Filed Under: Conversations, Noah, parenting, pooping

Mud Bath of a Different Kind

October 17, 2010 By 2 Comments

If you’re a parent, then at some point I’m guessing you may have dealt with the “poop in the bath” situation. It’s been a nightmare of mine since I stopped caring about crapping myself while giving birth and started caring more about the monstrosities escaping my boy’s butts.

Amazingly, I don’t think we’ve ever had a “bath floater” from Noah; he’s always been pretty good, waiting until we’d just put on a fresh clean nappy, after his bath of course, and making sure he was nice and settled before he did it. Yes, Noah, how considerate of you.

Slightly different story from Isaac; we’ve only had one bath floater, though he’s often quite keen to pee in the bath, usually emptying his bladder before his feet have even touched the bottom of the bath under the water. Forgive me, but I was pretty sure that it was a warm finger in your ear while you slept, that was supposed to make you pee or something?

Anyhoo, even though we’ve only had the one (possibly two? I make myself scarce if there’s a possibility it’s going to happen) bath floaters situation, one thing that mortifies me to the very pits of my empty stomach, is dealing with poop in a public pool of water.

For example, the swimming baths.

My earliest experience of this was when I was on holiday in Gran Canaria with my mom and sister nearly 10 years ago. We were enjoying the pool, stealing sunbeds from the Germans and soaking up the sun. Adults were lounging, kids were splashing, and babies were, um, pooping in the pool. Or in this case, pooping poolside. Which I’m pretty sure makes it worse because then you start to wonder to yourself, did the kid poop there in the first place? Or…did they poop in the pool and it washed up on the side? Or god forbid, did they poop in the pool, someone found it, and decided to PUT the floating log on the side of the pool? OMG seriously? How the hell did the poop get there?

I had pointed it out to my sis, she pointed it out to my mom, my mom pointed it out to anyone who walked by and we all sniggered, with a hint of horror. Everyone knew about it, and as far as we’re aware, the remainder of our holiday was spent trying to embarrass the culprit into stepping up and saying “yeah, it was my kiddo, and yes I even used a beer glass to scoop it up and plop it on the side of the pool.

We never found out who the owner was.

Thankfully though, we’ve never had one of our kiddos back one out in the public swimming baths. They both regularly have swimming lessons each weekend in a fancy heated pool and all the rest of it…hmmm….perfect for warming little tummies and making everything, uh, “relax”? However, I picked up a voicemail just as Isaac and I were about to leave the house; Isaac’s lesson was cancelled due to “a poo in the pool”.

I’m sorry but I have visions of a trail of brown in the pool, followed by people screaming “OMG!! RUN!!! IT’S A POO!!! THERE’S A POO IN THE POOL!!!!”. Is it wrong that I feel like I’m really missing out?!? Maybe I should get out more.

And not necessarily to the swimming pool.

Filed Under: Isaac, Noah, parenting, pooping, Uncategorized
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