Poop Chronicles V
As in previous installments of this series, I must give due warning.
If the title of this post is not enough to scare away those of you with delicate constitutions, then let me make the warning more formal: BEWARE, this post is not for those suffering from morning sickness, heart conditions, or Victorian attitudes about bodily fuctions. Just stop reading, I mean it, stop!
Now before we tackle our very frightening poop story, let us discuss this new and exciting phase of my life, a phase we might call, wee wee willy wizzing.
As you may (or may not) recall, my sweet little Brick (names have been changed to protect the innocent) was potty trained before his second birthday because he is deeply distrustful of the whole notion of clothing, more relevantly, diapers offend him to the core.
Things were going well for a while, the toilet sitting, the flushing, the handwashing.
I thought he was content with his step stool, his glorious white throne.
Oh the innocence lost!
Any mother of a Y chormosome must learn, I suppose, there is something about willy wizzing that compells those members of the human race with specialized equipment to aim towards higher and more creative forms of wizzing.
All too soon, I would learn this lesson.
I stepped into the bathroom one day, to find not only had he eschewed the notion of a step stool, he’d also decided that thronehood was overrated. And there he was, on tippy toe, his whole body arched in concentration, trying his darndest to aim over the toilet seat. But even on tippy toe, he could barely nudge his little penis onto the seat, urine flying everywhere, bouncing off the tank in every direction, except perhaps into the toilet bowl itself.
I called dh in horror, “You did not teach him to pee standing up, did you?” (I barely trust a thirty-five year-old to stand, a two-year-old, no way!) Dh said, “No,” and laughed as though this moment of urine and smashed illusions held some humor.
Since that day, Brick seems to have decided that any body of water is an approprate receptical for his waste fluids. A cooler full of melted ice, the kiddie pool, the fountain at the Boise Art Museam. And of course, grass. Grass is the most glorious waste receptical of all. I think he see all grass as just one great opportunity to cover the world with his mark. No sooner does he see grass, then the notion to pull his spiderman undies to his ankles and release his manhood grabs hold. Must. Pee. In. Grass.
And let’s not even discuss the day he decided (perhaps following Herothewonderwiener’s example) that Pooping in the grass would also be a good idea. An idea that Herothewonderwiener appreciated very much in his astoundingly vile canine omnivore way.
All in all I suppose I’d rather Brick pee in the grass (and even the cooler) than on my carpet. So things could be worse.
And it is. Of Course.
This is where it gets really bad, I really think you should stop reading now. Seriously.
So last night, whatever inhibitions that have formed Brick’s notions of proper waste disposal seem to have broken down completely.
He pooped in the middle of my bedroom floor. On my beautiful wool carpet. And not just any poop. It was soft-serve. (are you still reading this? Well, I did warn you.) And did he notify anyone? Call in the national guard to clean up the disaster area? Actually he did. But only after he’d finished playing with his princess castle, walking through his soft-serve disease-ridden stench at least ten-thousand times spreading it to every corner of my room, grinding it into deepest recesses of my carpet, spreading it on my bed, covering the princess and her castle. At which point, I guess he decided he’d reached his limits of depravity and went in search of his daddy, to tell him “gucky” and “poop”, which really spoke for itself, because his person offended all the senses.
And just yesterday, he still held that special place in my heart as my only child with no poop picasso aspirations.
My son pooped in the middle of my neighbor’s WHITE carpet. And the sad thing is, he was turning four. I’d thought we were safe!
Comment by Joanne — July 27, 2006 @ 12:57 pm
Wow, your entry gave me an amazing laugh! I’m sorry to hear that your carpet is - well “gucky”. I’ll pray for you and your son so that he finally gets the hang of where poop & pee REALLY goes.
Love,
Lauren
Comment by lauren — July 27, 2006 @ 1:48 pm
The peeing part of your story reminds me of the time my nephew had to relieve himself during the Primary Sacrament Meeting presentation.
Sorry, no poop stories to share.
Comment by CS Eric — July 27, 2006 @ 2:19 pm
I am deeply sorry for your experience.
That said, and perhaps this is why God only sent me girls, if I had a boy I would be teaching him to pee standing from day one.
There are only a few things left in this world that are truly a man’s realm, and peeing standing up is one of them.
In fact, can’t really think of the others.
So that sums it up for me, women can have babies, men can pee standing.
(If I could do the emoticons thing I’d put a smiley)
Again, sorry about the carpet.
Comment by Spencer — July 27, 2006 @ 3:28 pm
Thanks for sharing! Best laugh I’ve had in a while! Don’t worry, some day you might laugh too. I don’t know what to tell about going poop in strange places, but try having him sink the froot loops with his pee-pee in the potty.
I’ll share one of my gucky stories…
My oldest son was in the process of potty training, and we tried the technique of leaving him naked from the waste down for the day. We found his “presents” (both #1 and #2) in very interesting places. One was on top of our Hoover carpet steamer and the other on top of the large TV remote sitting on the back of our couch that was pushed away from the wall. Do ya think he was sending me a message? “I’ll show you mom!” He must have done some tricky, acrobatic balancing to place them there. Then he left one in a more inconspicuous place…my house plant. We smelled it right off but couldn’t see it camoflouged in the dirt, so it took a while to find that one. Anyway, good times.
Now that he is 12, we love to share that story with his friends. Payback is sweet.
Comment by Shaurby — July 27, 2006 @ 4:17 pm
“There are only a few things left in this world that are truly a man’s realm, and peeing standing up is one of them.”
*WARNING SARCASM ALERT*
Yes poor men, so little left, only 95% of the assets, 95% of the political power, 95% of CEOs, it’s a sad sad world for men these days. It is a good thing you have no son, there’s just nothing left for him to hope for.
Comment by fMhLisa — July 27, 2006 @ 4:26 pm
Perhaps we are underestimating your picasso. He’s a scatologist or artist who integrates scatology into his creative world.
ha ha ha ha!
Comment by j.a.t. — July 28, 2006 @ 8:18 am
I had my own poop chronicle earleir this week, though admittdly not as spectacular as your’s Lisa.
My 5-year-old son, my 10-month-old daughter, and I were waiting at the YMCA for my other daughter and my wife to finish getting the daughter changed from swimming lessons.
Our son said to me, “I’ll be right back.” and I watch him walk down the hall and turn into the male washroom. After three minutes, I thought to myself, “why is that boy taking so long”, so I went in to check on him, baby in my arms.
I asked him if he was alright and he unlatched the stall door and said he needed my help. I didn’t think much of it because he still hasn’t quite mastered the art of wiping yet. So while in the middle of wiping him, he says to me, “Papa? Can you wipe out my udnerwear too?”
Sure enough, he hadn’t quite made it to the toilet—despite the deposit sitting in the toilet.
So here I was sittign in a bathroom stall with a baby in my one arm trying to think of how I was going to deal with his dirty—and quite wet might I add—underwear and shorts. Then it hit me.
I went back to the waiting area and came back his backpack. Luckily he brought a bag to hold his wet swimming suit and towel and, for some odd reason. had packed another set of shorts.
I put the baby on the floor, swished his underwear a few times in the toilet bowl to clean it out (flushing between swishes of course), oput his shorts and slopping wet underwear in the same plastic bag, wiped off his feet, legs and the wall, and put new shorts on him. All this while moving my baby daughter away from the toilet twice and bringing her back from crawling under the stall door three times.
Then we both washed our hands. I washed mine twice.
Comment by Kim Siever — July 28, 2006 @ 11:34 am
For the record, the males in my house sit down. I spent far too many days of my pre-adult life cleaning up bathrooms, that I was disgusted into sitting down.
Comment by Kim Siever — July 28, 2006 @ 11:36 am
Kim,
I believe that any man who insists it is his manly right to stand up to pee (at home, everyone should stand at public, if they can!) should also be required to exert their manly right to clean up all the splashage and missage, and I do mean every single day. Because cleanliness is next to manliness I always say.
And I’m so glad you had extra shorts. I’ve never had a poop in public tragidy yet. But I do have a friend whose daughter made a deposit on the floor, hiding behind a rack of clothes at the maul (my prefered spelling).
Comment by fMhLisa — July 28, 2006 @ 1:22 pm
Oh dear Lord, I think you blessed these women with their poop artists just for my personal entertainment. Thou knewest I would have killed myself (or them) had the same events happened to me. I pray that these sisters will be avenged of their poop stories by their children being blessed with poop artists of their one. In the meantime, Lord (and fmhLisa), I thank thee for the much-needed belly laugh and tears.
Amen.
Comment by SalGal — July 28, 2006 @ 4:40 pm
Guess what the funniest #2 and toddler story I’ve seen was? Imagine this: a working dad who was obviously a little inexperienced with the kiddos decided to take all 5 (all under 7 years old) to McDonalds to the children’s hamster-like playground.
The two-year old wasn’t quite potty trained. Cleaning the hamster-tunnels AND pool of plastic balls from a very wet #2 wasn’t quite what he had planned. What would you do? They choose the ‘escape quickly out the back door’ route.
Just a little tidbit for ponder next time you are watching your kids at an indoor playground.
BTW,
Kim S., Do you buy your kids expensive ‘big boy’ underroos? Do they have a Gucci label? We’ve never upgraded from the $3 W or K Mart varieties. I would have deep-sixed those pants in a heartbeat. You deserve an award for recycling under extreme conditions!
Comment by j.a.t. — July 28, 2006 @ 5:08 pm
Funny story! My most recent story involves my 2-year-old daughter. We were at a busy city park and I noticed my daughter acting a bit peculiar. She had puffed out her pretty dress and was squatting down. I asked her what she was doing, and she just smiled. Once she was done she came over and proudly explaind, “Mommy, I pooh pooh like ruff ruffs”. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a doggy poop bag to pick up her surprise.
Comment by Lucy — July 29, 2006 @ 11:55 am
My son too feels the world is his to pee on. However the worst thing that happend really was not his fault. He had been constipated for days so our doctor instructed us to give him a sopository. Let me just say i didn’t think it was working, till i heard my little one crying and i noticed mud colored foot prints all the way to the bathroom.
Comment by Tasha — July 30, 2006 @ 9:15 am
my son peed in front of everyone at our ward luau. He just dropped trou and let it loose in the middle of all the tables, or so I heard… I was too busy being activity chairman to even notice, however; about three dozen people enjoyed telling me. one at a time. all night long.
Comment by just call me Cassandra... — July 30, 2006 @ 1:37 pm
Hmmmm, being childless does have *some* advantages, :)! But the Poop Chronicles make me laugh so hard my belly hurts. I feel for you and wish your carpet weren’t always in such peril, but I LOVE that you share the stories! Gracious!
Comment by janet — July 30, 2006 @ 7:51 pm
j.a.t., we do not buy designer labels, but 10$ not spent on a set of new underwear is 10$ spent on fuel to get to our family reunion in two weeks or spent on more groceries or 10$ spent on some other this or that. We were on our way home anyhow, so we put in a load of wash right away and they came out sparkling clean.
Lisa said: “And I’m so glad you had extra shorts.”
Tell me about it. It ends up my son originally put five pair of shorts in their so that he would have all the changes of clothing he needed for each swimming class that week. Mary told him to put the m away, but he either forgot one or decided to make a compromise and left one of them in there. Fine with me considering the circumstances.
Comment by Kim Siever — July 30, 2006 @ 9:49 pm
I always pee sitting down at home (and most of the time at work, unless the stalls are full). It’s also house rule (my daughters warn their boyfriends that standing is a sin). No man’s aim is good enough. Husbands/fathers/brothers who insist on standing also insist on scrubbing the bathroom floor at least once a week with Lysol and an old toothbrush to make the grout shiny again.
I have 3 daughters. If I had a son, standing would NEVER be an option.
Lisa, did you make Brick help clean up? Seems to me that would be the quickest cure…
Comment by Rich — August 1, 2006 @ 8:56 pm
Rich… Dude…
I am fully creeped out by your comment.
Comment by Geoff J — August 3, 2006 @ 12:07 pm