Posts Tagged ‘bodily functions’

Keeping it real.

April 16, 2013

If you are matter of fact, kids don’t question shit. Case in point:

I’m observing bathtime. Snort splashes water in Coco’s eyes.

Coconut: OW. My EYES. Ow, Mama, ow!

Me: Are you okay? I can’t touch you right now, my hand is dirty.

Snort: What is that little cup?

Me: Every now and then, grown up ladies have blood come out their vaginas. So I use this little cup to catch the blood.

Snort: Oh.

Coconut (who has been listening and totally calm and fine): Oh, okay.

Coconut: MY EYES!!

Parenting gets more like a cliche every day.

March 5, 2013

Hey, did you see me today?

I know you don’t know what I look like, but I was the one hanging out in the boot/trunk of her enormous car with her kids today. In a public carpark. Yeah, let’s just say it’s a good thing I never bothered to take out the potty that was in the back from when they were learning to potty last summer.

Yeah, simple wees. There was a handy drain near the car, so I could pour it down and be sort of respectable, as opposed to being forced to water plants.

Then a kid did a giant soft serve crap. It looked soft enough to go down the drain. I was wrong. It sat there on the metal grating, a cheerful chocolate whirly perfect shit.

I had to run to the car, grab a baby wipe, and then come break the shit into pieces and shove it down the drain.

I think I looked suspicious.

Which is why I think you would have noticed me, had you been there. Don’t be shy. Say hi next time.

More poop posts. I know, you didn’t think it was possible.

February 20, 2013

Yesterday almost broke me. Seriously, how did I ever have the energy to deal with two newborns? We had six poop accidents and one wee accident, of all things. But yesterday is done, onward to today. The poop child has pooped today, ON THE TOILET. So hopefully they are cleared out enough that things are back under control. This also makes three days in a row with poop. Not sure that has ever happened, even when this child was a newborn.

For those that have contacted me asking why they are on stool softeners, this child is what they call a poop withholder. Basically, they stop themselves from pooping. They’ve done it since they were born. As a toddler, we actually thought they were in a pain and really trying to poop, until I bought a book called something like Constipation, Withholding, and your Child. Yes. A scintillating title.

But this little book is pretty awesome. Through it I learned that this child’s behaviours that we thought were aborted, stressful poop attempts were actually this toddler doing everything in their power to hold the poop in. Standing rigidly, clutching furniture, not peeing, making pooping noises, even screaming. Withholding often can feature soiling, which is when new, liquid poop moves around the larger poop obstruction and leaks out to go into the nappy/underwear. We’ve only had this twice, but pretty massively this last episode.

This whole thing can lead to poops which hurt the bottom, or even tear it, because the poops can be huge and not soft. Then the pain leads to even more withholding. It’s a vicious cycle.

Off we trundled to the doctor about nine or ten months ago, and tried a laxative. It gave my kid tummy pain. So we moved on to stool softeners. They have managed it well, but even with them my child only pooped every other day at most. This may be normal for some children, and for this kid, it was as good as it has ever been. We actually stopped medication. Then in November, a particularly painful, huge poop ripped them and their fear of poop related pain meant we started medication again.

We are now trying two sachets of medication a day, which is more than my child has ever had. Their colon needs a chance to shrink down, and also learn to get poop signals when there is a lot less poop in there.

This morning we had a combo poop and wee (normal for most, but such is the control of this kid that they often poop first, then wee twenty minutes later once they are relaxed and not holding poop in) and IT WENT IN THE TOILET. Thank god for small, brown, murky miracles.

This hopefully concludes this bout of poop posts. If anyone has questions about withholding or recognises their child in my descriptions, feel free to get in touch.

The reason we are staying home today.

February 19, 2013

You know how when someone gets murdered by gun, they can analyse the blood spatters to learn more about, say, the angle of the shot, etc?

I just wrote the ‘the angle of the shit’ instead of ‘shot,’ but it wasn’t too much of a mistake. I’m wrestling with whether I can post horrific shit pictures on my blog. Can I? Because I took the picture to show TMD because if one studies it carefully, one can only assume one of my children is in possession of roughly five distinct assholes.

Let’s just say that the three stool softener doses of yesterday (higher dose than usual), and perhaps the suppository of lubricant goodness, combined with not crapping for five days prior, means that the shit explosions are just…..oozing, spattering, and smearing everywhere. We have gone through three pairs of underpants, infinite wipes (disposable, because our lovely cloth wipes are too few in number when each accident takes roughly 500 wipes), and half a pack of antiseptic wipes. We have only been awake three and a half hours.

The child in question says the poop is catching them by surprise. This child does not have experience with poop this soft, or pooping this often, and I think their bowel, body, and brain are going to need some time to get used to it. In the meantime, I’m going to go out on a limb and say I’m limiting things to two sachets of stool softener a day….otherwise we may never leave the house again. This must be what people who do traditional potty training experience. I have to say, we never did it with either kid and never had any poop accidents, ever, or pee accidents beyond the first two days. So I am sort of in shock.

The only positive is that the last horrific episode, while also destroying underpants, also concluded in the bathroom. So at least the child recognised the poop was coming out this time and ran for the bathroom. Of course, taking off your underpants while they are filled with gooey shit is an art that this kid has never had the opportunity to learn. So in addition to the amazing toilet picture I took and probably won’t post, my brain is forever branded with the images of soft poop spatters on every conceivable surface, both flesh and not.


By the way, I may sound like I am complaining, but in a sick way I’m sort of enjoying myself.

(Shitcentric) Milestones.

February 18, 2013

They all talk about the milestones your babies and children have. Where’s the recognition of the parental milestones?

Like the first time you slide a suppository into your child’s tiny little butt? Surely I deserve a gold star or two?


I think bonus points should be awarded for seeing it pushed back out by Crazy Ass Poop That Will Not Be Stopped, and sitting on the unclean poop covered floor you swiped with a wipe….while holding your kid’s feet up high to help their butt Do The Deed, all while making eye contact with the shit covered suppository on the floor.

And then your wife comes home and takes in your too calm appearance. You plan to run away and spend quality time with Buffy and Giles, but then your child says, ‘Oh, there is poop on my hands and my fleece and everywhere.’ So your wife turns to the bathroom, and your child follows, and then you notice there is shit STUCK ALL OVER THE BACK OF THEIR LEGS.

Cue your screaming, your wife picking the child up and running for the bathroom, and the child’s head being slammed into the doorframe. So you don’t know whether to look at the new giant welt or at the poop that is, as your child accurately points out, everywhere.

I’m almost afraid to hit publish because this entry was supposed to end after the insertion of the suppository. And then the shit came. And kept coming. And will probably keep coming.


Genetic patterns.

June 30, 2012

People say, ‘Where did Snort get his lactose intolerance from?’

I reply that I have no clue, as I helplessly and uncontrollably shit out the four cheese pizza I ate the night before.

Flashback: shitting myself in a Burger King bathroom.

April 28, 2012

not for those prone to gagging.
2004-01-03 – 9:22 p.m.

I’m totally not proud, in any way, of what happened today in the Burger King bathroom. Why I need to write about it, therefore, defies all logic.

Here’s the dealio: I have not been able to have a satisfying poop in ages.

Burger King is my laxative. Immediately after finishing lunch, I ran to the bathroom. I chose the stall (one of two) which I knew had a functioning lock. There were a few drops of pee on the seat, and I had no time to think.

I decided to have my emergency bowel clean-out while squatting. It went alright; I could even watch and see how things were progressing.

At one point, however, a spectacular burst of air shot a large quantity of slightly soft poop everywhere, including the toilet seat.

I realized that perhaps I should be sitting down, but I didn’t want to sit on fecal matter, so I pulled my jeans and underwear up to my knees and pulled my sweatshirt down, making sure not to get poop on it. I ran sideways, ass to the front of the stalls, to the next stall.

The seat was HORRIFIC. It looked like someone had:

1) Unwound an entire roll of toilet paper around and around the seat

2) Promptly peed all over all the unrolled paper, hence making it a yellow soup

3) Taken a fork and scratched at it, creating a monstrous papier mache piss sculpture.

(I don’t know who I am to judge since I pooped all over a seat, but then that’s what I do: judge.)

I swore, ran back to the other bathroom, and decided I had to keep squeezing the poop in while I cleaned the pee off the seat.

You have to understand that the pee on the seat which made me squat in the first place was only about 3 drops, yet while having my poop-coming-out-as-fast-as-diarhea-thon, I managed to also urinate all over the seat.

I took some toilet paper and starting swiping at the pee; the paper was some sort of mutant paper which did not absorb pee. It only spread it around. I threw the damp paper into the toilet and got a BIG handful of paper. While smearing the pee around, mixing my urine with the three drops that had originally been there, I started heaving.

I promptly vomited a tidy ball of onion rings and veggie burger into the toilet. I somehow didn’t vomit on the seat, which I eventually cleaned off. I lined it with toilet paper (yes, an effective barrier method to prevent disease transmision, I’m sure), sat down, and prepared to enter the 7th circle of Heaven.

Nothing came out. Nothing. Eventually I felt something worming out, and it was coming really slow, so I did that thing where you close your eyes and suck it back into your body.

I think as I was desperately wiping my ass again and again, I lost my sanity, as I started shaking and laughing. I couldn’t stop laughing.

Could. Not. Stop.

When the whole fiasco was done, I ran my hands for two seconds under cold water (again, a very healthy way to wash toilet germs from your hands, particularly after you’ve touched someone else’s piss), opened the door to the eating area, and started choking on laughter.

I walked very quickly to TMD, sat down, and started whispering…saying, ‘If you love me, TMD, swear to me you WILL NOT go into that bathroom.’

I started to whisper the story to her, but then a nice looking professional woman started heading towards the bathroom. TMD gave me The Look, and we rushed into our winter clothing and ran out of Burger King before the nice looking lady could come over to our table and demand to know what in the HELL I had done in the bathroom to leave it looking like it did.

I finished telling TMD the poop/vomit story while at the bus stop.

Then, on an unrelated note, I danced exhuberantly to ‘Jump…jump..for my love’ (80s song I can’t remember the real name to) while in the grocery store.

TMD was more embarassed of me dancing with bags of carrots and broccoli than knowing I lost control of my bowels, along with all other bodily functions, in a public bathroom.

I love that gal.

Jess says: I have one question & one question only. Do you, Existere, remember the Burger King poo experience like it was just yesterday? Um, I certainly do. To a point. I DEFINATELY remember your reaction to reading it in my blog!!

This post brought to you by my compelling desire to write, and complete inability to do so. Generous people have given me funny, thoughful, and factual suggestions for posts. Click here to see them, or add your own. I’ll work through them all in time.

Some gnomes. And stuff, abbreviated.

March 30, 2012


Doorbell: ding dong

Me: hello

Neighbour: hi! I’m your neighbour from next door. How are you settling in?

Me: still trying to unpack.

Neighbour: your father in law has been taking junk to the tip for months.

Me: yes. There’s still a lot more that needs to go. *hearty laugh*

Neighbour: *even hardier laugh, before voice lowers in a confidential tone* Yes. I can believe it. I think he’s a bit of a hoarder.

Laughs all around, before I go back inside to stare blankly at the two long razors on the kitchen counter, the notebooks full of tiny handwriting, and the mysterious pieces of jagged plastic everywhere.

I did quite a bit of venting to TMD this morning. This is our house now, so why is about 45% (a conservative estimate) of our home being used as a closet for someone else? Storing stuff deemed not worthy to move to his new house, stuff he will never use while here, yet it is unable to be donated or pitched?

I may invite you all over. Give you each a trash bag. We can throw shit away for fifteen minutes every hour, and have a party the other 45.

In other news, I tripped over the cat last night and am having trouble walking. It is handy, because Snort has just vomited everywhere. You don’t need to be able to walk pain free in order to sit still, try to catch vomit in your hands, and get covered in what appears to be warm, stinky water.

I am turning into such a hippy (I know it’s hippie, but I only officially know as of two seconds ago and it makes me nervous) I don’t recognise myself anymore.

February 20, 2012

Because I know you all love hearing about my vagina, I’ll tell you something that is pure, decadent luxury – reuseable cloth wipes. Yeah, the sort you might use with babies. Fleece on one side (oh, so nice on your vajazzle), terry/bamboo on the other.

I’ve been curious about ‘family cloth’ for ages. For those who aren’t in the know, it’s using these reuseable wipes rather than using toilet paper. Because I don’t sew – or own any cloths or receiving blankets I can just chop into little rectangles, I ordered fifteen used ones off ebay for a song.

They live in a little pile next to the toilet. While one day we will prettify things (read: once we’ve moved house), I have an empty butter container (pure class) on the shelf above. I do my thang, wipe (oh, bliss! toilet paper feels so horrid after using cloth…), stick the cloth in butter tub, and go about my day.

I’m only using it for The Pee. While I know people the world round use these cloths for baby poop – and adult – we weren’t cloth diapering long enough for me to be cool with shit covered cloths hanging out in my butter tub. We no longer have a mucky wet bag, or in the case of twins in reuseable napppies, a giant bucket sitting in our bathtub. So I still use toilet paper for my poop, though I admit I’m curious to changeover.

Fifteen wipes isn’t really enough, so if any of you peeps DO sew and want to be charitable, we accept any and all awesome wipes. Especially as if my kids ever stop pooping/peeing in nappies and decide to switch over to toilets on a regular basis, they’ll probably use cloth wipes, too. (Except that to both of them, particularly Snort, toilet paper is The Coolest Thing Ever.)

So. Yes.

In conclusion, it’s like wiping yourself with a soft cloud of joy. Reuseable menstrual cups have completely revolutionised my period (have I written many posts about them?), and these wipes are revolutionising voiding my bladder. Between these two products, my area is so happy.

(Do you use family cloth? For your poop? How do you get the poop off? Can you just wash the cloths in with your clothes – as we don’t have cloth nappies to wash?)

Moving house….peeing….whatever.

January 27, 2012

So, we’re moving. And I’m totally not grown up enough to sell this flat.

It’s a fairly major move, to another part of the country. All of TMD’s parents live there – though FIL (my father in law) is basically giving us his house and he’ll be moving about an hour and a half away to live with his partner. He’ll come spend the night once a week or so. I’m not an ungrateful sow, but I do wish he’d sell his house, invest his money for his future, and give us a bit so we can buy a house we actually want. He is redoing his house – new carpet, windows, paint, bathrooms, etc – and it is a nice house. Four bedrooms, big garden! I am just so not a city/suburban woman.

We might live in a small two bedroom flat now, but our back garden is expansive, with a path leading down to a huge park, woods, and yet more countryside. I’m all about the trees, yo. All about the trees.

Still, the area we’re moving to is nice, and there is lots of green space nearby – just a bit bummed that we’ll have to drive to it rather than our back door opening to it.

We plan to move pretty fucking soon – end of March. We have a lot to do before then. Step one was getting our wobbly toilet fixed yesterday, which necessitated both adults in the house pooping in children’s potties today before dumping it in a big bucket which is currently covered with cling film and in the bathtub. It’s all glamourous here.

(Sidenote: for some reason, my grandmother essentially lived in her basement – as most of my extended family does. Not in a weird ‘put the lotion in the basket’ kind of way, but in a cozy, comfortable ‘this one giant room is all we need, sod the rest of the house’ sort of way. When we were little, she showed us how to pee in a special red pot (like the sort you boil water and cook things in!) rather than walking all the way upstairs to pee. She did it, so we did too. Might have had something to do with her arthritis, or maybe¬† my family are crazier than I think. So ANYWAY. The point of this sidenote was to say I felt perfectly happy peeing in a bucket last night and this morning.)

Our new house – I have to try to start thinking of it that way, rather than as FIL’s house – has a bathroom downstairs and upstairs. So we can all pee without climbing stairs or resorting to using kitchenware to help us void our bladders.

I have the feeling I got off topic somewhere…