All Poo-Poos Must Go!
I’ve already discussed my four year old’s penchant for holding it in until he’s ready to fucking explode, but last night he took a different approach to things. A couple of hours before his annual daycare Christmas Recital (which could more accurately be described as the annual Sit In A High School Auditorium While A Bunch Of Toddlers Forget The Lyrics To Jingle Bells Recital), he decided that it would not be in his best interest to suffer through an acute episode of I’ve Got To Poo! on stage, and so he told me, “Daddy, I’m going to get the poo-poos out before I go on stage tonight!”
You wouldn’t think that you would ever react to the news that someone was going to take a shit with such unbridled happiness, but when my four year old holds it, he fucking holds it, so I was thrilled. It’s hard for us to tell if he’s pooped during the day because he’s at day care during the week and when the kids are four, the teachers have lost interest in shit-tracking activities. He’ll also go through periods where pooping isn’t an issue and we’ll just start to forget about it when all of a sudden he’ll decide that pooping is for losers again, and we’ll only find out days later when he has an explosive emergency evacuation (an EEE). So when he told me that he was going to voluntarily take a dump, I reacted as if he had just told me that he found a million dollars in his toy box.
Seriously, it’s a real fucking problem with this kid. One week, the people at day care informed me that he hadn’t been himself lately, and that he was listless, not enthusiastic about playing, and often asked to go to sleep (which he never wants to do). He had no fever, no cough, runny nose or anything. He just felt… Blah. So we took him to the doctor who discovered that his entire GI tract was jam packed with shit. “Oh yeah, that’ll cause his symptoms for sure.” So we had to go home and give him an enema, which caused him to produce a piece of work that clogged the toilet. He’s four, he shouldn’t be able to clog a toilet all by himself.
So I placed him on the potty with suitable words of encouragement usually heard in the context of someone who is about to attempt a game winning field goal in the Super Bowl. “You can do it, buddy! Just concentrate, get it done, and then we’ll celebrate!” I left the room and went into my room just down the hall where I spent the next fifteen minutes listening to my four year old yell at his ass:
“C’mon poo-poo! Get out of there!”
“All poo-poos out of my butt RIGHT NOW!”
“All poo-poos must go!”
It was absolutely hilarious. Finally, after a lot of pleading, it got quiet. Really quiet. I started wondering if maybe he’d got tired of trying to shit and just waddled off to play Nintendo, so I took a quick peek in the bathroom. He was still in there all right, his face a shade of red so deep it was alarming. His face was vermillion. So I quickly backed off and let him do what he had to do. Seconds later, a loud depth charge announced his success, followed shortly by, “Wow! … … … DADDY! I WENT POO POO!”
I was so proud.
For those of you who have yet to experience the wonder of parenthood, you’re probably thinking to yourself, “When I have kids, there’s no way in hell that I’m going to tell shit stories. I mean, gross! Who wants to hear that?” You’re wrong. When you become a parent, you find yourself doing all sorts of inexplicable things.
First of all, you quickly forget how difficult life is with a newborn in the house. On one level, you’ll acknowledge that you went seemingly forever without getting more than 90 minutes of sleep at a time (if you’re lucky), but you won’t really remember how horrible it was. Same with a baby with a “fussy stomach” who won’t stop howling for hours. Ditto a child that can’t keep his lunch down, a kid with alarmingly high fevers, a baby that turns blue all of a sudden, etc. I’m not saying that it doesn’t all work out in the end, but there are a lot of aspects of early parenthood that seriously fucking blow. And your mind will conveniently forget all of these things because evolution has hard-wired you that way. If women didn’t forget how shitty it was to be heavily pregnant, the pain of childbirth, the lack of sleep, etc., they’d stab the next guy that tried to sleep with them right in the balls, and then where would the human race be?
Likewise, parenthood damages the part of your brain that normally prevents you from talking about your child’s defecatory habits in front of foreign dignitaries at White House dinners. Not only will you find yourself talking about your child’s adventures in Pottyland, you will find yourself expecting other people to be interested in these stories, even if you’re telling them these tales while they’re eating fudge.
So sorry if you didn’t feel like reading about the shits my four year old takes, especially if you’re eating fudge right now. But I am totally unable to resist a story in which my youngest starts having a conversation with his ass. As a parent, the only story more interesting to me would be if his ass started talking back.
That’s a rough one to deal with! Neither of my girls ever had the inclination to back up their GI tract. God speed my good man.
Yeah, if anything, most kids have the opposite problem.
On the plus side, clenching his ass all the time strengthened his bladder. He has never wet the bed. Not once.
I guess most people get one or the other then. I just got my 5 year old to stop wetting the bed. Trust me, I was considering just sticking a cork in there at night I was so tired of washing sheets!
Man was this timely. I felt like you were talking directly to me. Here is why.
Child is a perfect doll for most of the day, but every night, when we go to put her down for bed, she begins shrieking. It doesn’t seem like there is any discomfort- it’s just separation anxiety. She doesn’t want me to put her down and go away. The past two nights have been particularly rough – someone who normally doesn’t stay awake for more than two consecutive hours without drifting off has been screaming intermittently for three hours when placed in a very comfy sleeping space. Two nights in a row – I’m starting to worry that this is “the new thing”.
Anyway this happened a few weeks ago and it turned out to be a difficult wad of baby dook working its way out because a few hours into the fit, she emitted a powerful rectal blast followed by what Sifu and I lovingly refer to as “fudge alert”. Then she was all smiles again.
I will always treasure these days. These fucking days.
I was talking directly to you. Shit, did I post that, or mail it?
It is unbelievable how quickly you’ll forget all the shit you’re going through right now. You can think to yourself, “I will never, ever do this again. No fucking way.” And a couple of years down the road, when things are easier, you’ll catch yourself wondering if you should do it again.
Tubal ligation… the cure for all things. Vasectomies are a grand plan too.
There’s a window for those procedures, and it is while you’ve got a newborn in the house. After that, you forget, and start the cycle over. During the window, however, you’re too sleep deprived.
And thus, the circle of life continues.
Man, I heard a kid squall one time and knew I’d never have babies. The fact that I’m the one who elicited that noise from my brother is only further proof I was right to get fixed.
I love your shit-posts, as only a fellow-parent can. Thanks for the laughs.
My shit-posts? Why, you… Oh, wait. That was a compliment. Thanks,
That was very funny. If yelling instructions at his little butt gets those poo poos moving, more power to him.
No kidding. I’ll buy him a megaphone if it’ll help.
It is 6:45 in the morning, and your kid just made me laugh so hard my eyes teared up. I may not be a parent, but who doesn’t appreciate a story in which a four-year-old commands poo-poos to exit the building?
That’s what I told the people in my pitch at PBS, but they weren’t buying.
My daughter used to ‘hold it’, too. And, frankly an 8 year old passing a croquet ball is weirdly impressive. And, of course, disgusting.
I was surprised to learn that this tendency is passed on genetically. Strange. What is the gene for holding it until your colon explodes?
Boy likes to be held while he craps in his diaper. He want to wrap his arms around my neck and put his head on my shoulder. I feel so….. used.
It’s just too bad you couldn’t have recorded that monologue. That is hilarious. What a good boy.
Oh, man, I don’t know that I could play that role!
My middle son had an issue with pooping in the potty, which I understand is not uncommon. He was in undies during the day, but in Pull-Ups at night. So we’d have this conversation every single night I put him to bed:
Me: Ok, before we get ready for bed, do you need to poop?
(get ready for bed, tuck him in, say good night, shut the door to his room. 2.1 seconds later…)
Son: DADDY! I POOPED MY PULL-UPS!
He’d save it all day long, and then as soon as he could do it in private in Pull-Ups, he’d let it FLY!
Then when we’d finally gotten him to go in the potty, he thought that every time he did #1, he’d have to do #2. Then we’d have this conversation:
Me: What are you doing?
Son: I’m trying to poop!
Me: I thought you said you had to pee?
Son: I did!
Me: Then you realized that you have to poop?
Me: So why are you trying to poop?
Son: Because I just peed, but I can’t poop!
Me: So don’t.
Son: I don’t have to?
Me: No, of course not.
Son: (pause as this sinks in) OKAY!
So funny! That is very common with boys. I got lucky with Siggy. He wanted nothing to do with pooping in his pants so he would go on the potty way before he could walk. It was the only easy thing about him…..
Catch my subliminal hello?
I see you did. 🙂
In anger, Lord Tywin sends everyone, except for the Tyrion, out of his tent.
Five years from now, you’ll be looking back at this period of time we currently are in, and will
want to quote Dickens, Cancer, but then realize the wording needs to be slightly altered.
Your sign is living proof that if put under duress, Venus would, without a
doubt, be able to power lift and bench press Hercules or Zeus to shame.