Any parent reading my title today is going to be staring at the screen in open-mouthed disbelief. For few that have run the gauntlet of potty-training have had an easy ride. (If you did, pipe down, you clearly got lucky!).
Now today’s blog comes with a health warning: it is going to have a lot of toilet humour in it, so look away now if you’re squeamish and don’t have the stomach…
Anyway, before I come on to potty training and kids, let me talk about pets. Having is dog is perhaps one of the first times you have to ‘touch’ the excrement of another living creature. But whilst you might cringe to feel the warmth of your lovely doggy’s turd through those pathetic little plastic bags, you never have to actually touch it. Most of us are in fact pretty adapt at scooping it up and disposing of it quickly and efficiently…barring of course the odd occasion when you find your pockets irritatingly devoid of plastic sacks. (These occasions involve cursing under your breath at the fact that people are around and doubtless watching as you hastily fashion some weird poo-collecting contraction out of leaves and sticks. Bleurghh!)
Babies are a different game entirely. Good luck with sh*t avoidance. At some point we all fall victim to the exploding nappy. That one occasion when you’re out without back-up and supplies, you inevitably have groceries and a cup of coffee too when you notice a dark stain and a smell emanating from your cherub’s behind. Miserable. No public toilet is ever good enough. In a state of emergency I have in fact wrapped my baby’s lower half in a plastic bag with improvised leg holes as a way of getting home swiftly and saving myself an extra chore dealing with the car seat.
In our house, until now, the crowning glory of all such stories is removing a nappy from my daughter, and narrowly dodging a proverbial ‘bullet’ as a stream of yellow caught a fluffy rabbit full in the face and left what can only be described as a poo-bunny shadow complete with ears outlined on the white wall. Impressive stuff.
However, one of the few upsides of having dealt with nappies for 3 years, and been through the somewhat miserable process of potty training…which in my experience seemed to involve carting potties, pants, tousers, wipes, etc around for what seemed like an eternity, and always having to know where the nearest loo was…is that my ability it deal with poo is greatly improved. Poo in pants, poo in trousers, poo on the floor. I thought I’d pretty much seen it all.
So on to me. It is a pretty odd concept to suddenly wake up and discover that your anus is now redundant, and that henceforth you now need to poo in a bag. There is no ‘holding it in’ or supressing a fart. It is an involuntary motion over which I now have no control. It is also, I hasten to add, a marvel of modern medicine that they have come up with such an invention. As part of the ‘saving my life’ plan, I welcome it with open arms. Truly extraordinary.
Anyway last night I think I topped the story of poo-bunny. I had removed my ‘bag,’ cleaned up and was simply brushing my teeth and allowing my skin to breathe and dry for a moment before putting on a new bag when I had an accident.
Splat. Poo on my shoe.
Poo on my F-Ugg boot to be precise. Really?! How ridiculous. I did not see that one coming. I burst into giggles and shouted out. "Josh, there is poo on my shoe!” He laughed too.
I am sorry to be so crude, but in my situation humour is something to be greatly welcome. Thank goodness the kids and dog have got me passed the ‘squeamish’ stage. Really, if you can’t laugh and smile about such things then you’d probably end up crying, and I know which one I’d rather do! Next stop, patent shoes or maybe wellies?!?