Today we shall talk about the joy and wonder of shit.
Or, more accurately, the inability of Lilo & Stitch to produce it like a normal human being.
So feel free to run screaming from the blog now.
Both my daughter suffer from encoparesis. In short, it means that they have a really, really, really difficult time making poo-poo. It takes the girls forever to have a poo and Sweet Babou or I have to sit on the edge of the tub offering encouragement and emotional support. The thing is, you can’t make a kid go poo if they don’t want to. So you become sort of a poo cheerleader/midwife. There is no dignity in this.
Parent: “Come on honey, make a poopy. You need to push okay? You can do it! Push push push pushpushpushhhhhhh!”
Daughter: “I don’t want to. It hurts.”
Parent: “I know sweetie but you have to make poopy or you will get sick. So push out the poop okay? Please? Let’s try again. Now take a deep breath and Push push push pushpushpushhhhhhh!”
Daughter: “I don’t need to poop.”
Parent: “yes, you do.”
Daughter: “No! I don’t!”
Internal dialog of parent: “For the love of Christ, all his saints, and their mothers — will you just SHIT already?!?!”
Parent: “Well, you need to try. Now, pushpushpushhhhhhh!”
Repeat for an hour.
Golly Gee, I don’t know why more people choose my career path. What with the glamour and all.
Ughhhhhhhh! I went through this with my 3rd child and it’s horrible and frustrating and really, one of those things others cannot understand if they haven’t lived through it. I don’t know how old your kids are off the top of my head, but rest assured: Syd Vicious is now 10 and doesn’t suffer from this any longer. And thank goodness for it.
Life’s shitty — but extreme constipation is not the answer, people!
I may need pom-poms and quaaludes to make it through.
After all these years there is a name for this, good to know.
Amen. Not a parent, but as a preschool teacher I would have 30 minute professional phone conversations about poop. And then hang up and wonder when my life had taken this dark turn.
Someday I will tell you about the phantom coffee can pooper.
LOL. One of my dearest friend is a preschool teacher … I would sooooo eavesdrop to hear her talking to other preschool teachers about the ‘chain-reaction-poots’ of children.
You have got to let us know about he phantom coffee can pooper … or the PCCP as we shall now dub him/her.
Oh My Lord! I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry when I read this. Oh the memories! There is hope tho… All my children survived this stage and have gotten to the point they don’t need a cheerleader to poop!
I swore last year I should change my job title from Educator to Poop Detective. As in, who did it? I KNOW someone did. And walking around the room sniffing surreptitiously, then sending the offender to the nurse with a “note”. What baffles me in the overarching poop rhetoric is that some parents are hyperconcerned about the poo habits, and others have *refused* to come pick up their child or even bring him clean pants when he has pooped.
One of my colleagues, a very demure resource teacherfor whom this was out of character and therefore more amusing, called a parent after the mom had refused my request to come get her daughter after a potty accident. Colleage called Parent to reinforce the importance of her aid, to which Parent replied, “I’m not in town.” Colleague answered, “I don’t care if you’re in goddamn last Tuesday, come get your daughter she’ll be in the office.”
The new techno band, The Surreptitious Sniffers, will be opening for The Devious Trany Cuttlefish on their world tour next month.
Sorry, where was I … oh yeah, I would come back from Fokking anywhere to bring my baby pants after a poop incident! WTF? You want to leave your little girl in shitty pants? Do you LIKE paying for thearpy?
Teachers … y’all aren’t paid enough.
One of my best pals called me one day wondering if it was a Bad Thing that her then 2 year old daughter (my goddess-daughter) *named* her poop and then waved goodbye to it as she flushed it.
I said, “Heck no–as long as she’s not naming it after you.”
LOL
So, its a bad thing when I hear coming from the Elmo potty seat?
Ugh, I feel ya! My youngest has some food sensitivities which has messed up her system. If she sneaks a cracker or an unacceptably flavored chip we know we’re going to be begging her to poop for a freaking week. And because she’s had problems, she holds it, so even when she doesn’t eat something she isn’t supposed to, it’s still a battle. The other day she made a completely normal one all by herself. I looked in her diaper and held back tears as I said, “That is the prettiest poop I have ever seen!” The things I never thought I’d say.
Like I said … motherhood is all about the glamor. If you don’t feel elegant when admiring poop, when can you?
I’m going to be such an awesome parent- I’m so desensitized to poop (or the lack there of) it’s not even funny.
I would like it if you would blog some more, please. Three posts is not nearly enough to entertain me.
I have been trained by Western culture to obey nurses and other medical authority figures, so I must blog more tomorrow :0)
‘are not’ – Just realized that I wrote ‘is not’, and it makes me cringe to see that grammar.
I has been a graduate student, and I totally threw the Grammar Police of your scent!
Thank you so much! Much appreciated.
Chiming in as a stay-at-home mom, currently in an empty nest. Oh yes, we sure did have our pom-pom days, trading off because our butts got numb perched on the side of the tub. Happy to report that at 21 years old she can poo all by herself!
You have no idea how happy I am that you are blogging!
Julie
I’m glad to know there is light at the end of the tunnel :0)
Thanks for reading Julie!
Opps. Fokked up the blockquote. My bad!
No problemo. Your bad is still very good :0)
Between you and me — my dialog occasionally becomes external. I find that crushing a few valium up in my amaretto and milk helps keep me zen.
(-: Just wanted to let you know, I love your blog, and am spending the evening working back to the beginning. The Fokker is amazing (-:.
Also, re: the poop topic. There’s a great book called “Everyone Poops” by Gomi Taro (it’s been translated into English). Very straightforward, very clear, but somehow, very charming, too. When my kids were tiny, I’d sit them on the toilet, and read them a “potty book” to encourage a relaxed, um, experience.
The American potty books had their good points, too, but really drove me up the freaking wall. Baby Kermit the Frog whining about how he’s got to go, and not really spelling anything out for the kids (never fear, I filled in between the lines with sarcastic comment). I can’t remember the name of the other one. It was pretty awful too. Thank all the porcelain gods, “Everyone Poops” was the favorite choice of my babies.
(-: My sister was aghast when she saw the book, though. Not sure if she changed her mind when she had kids of her own.
Again, lovely blog, and I’ve been enjoying it all! I look forward to future posts.
thank you! we have the book … it has made the poop cheerleading clearer at any rate :0)