Hello! waves Long time reader, first time posting. What an excellent board! Since poop threads make me laugh until I cry, here’s what happened to us tonight.
Driving back from Scouts, I smell gas. My son exclaims loudly, “Oh no - I’m having diarrhea!” We quickly pull into the nearest parking lot and he jumps out, runs by the bushes, and takes the biggest, smelliest, diarrhea-est dump :eek:
I clean him up, we get back in the car. I send a silent apology to the bakery for the loaf. My son quietly says, “They’re going to think a dog came by. A BIG dog!”
Ugh, I don’t want to tell this story, but I will. It’s soooooo gross, but someone might think it’s funny, so here goes. . .
A few weeks ago, I was visiting family out of town. On my first full day there, I had some of the worst, most unexpected diarrhea of my life. Attributing it to stress, I went on with my day, drinking lots of water to rehydrate myself. The diarrhea continued. Ugh. To settle my stomach, I drank a can of coke, and I seemed to be great after that. Things were fine for the rest of the day, and before I went to bed that night I drank a big glass of water.
Suddenly, at about 3am, I woke up with terrible cramping in my stomach. I thought I might throw up, so I went outside to get some fresh air. The house is on several acres, so I walked a bit. All of a sudden, I realized that I wasn’t going to throw up, and that whatever wanted out was going the other way. I also realized that I didn’t have enough time to get back to the house. I had to drop my pants right there.
Luckily, I was near some trees, so I was able to go into the little grove, and out of anyone’s path.
I concluded there and then that it was the well water making me sick. I must have been right too, because the next day I switched to bottled water, and the diarrhea stopped!
Funny you should say that… when she said they were coming home from scouts, she didn’t say if it was Cub Scouts (ages 7 - 10), Boy Scouts (ages 11-17), or Venturer (ages 14 - 20). So, when gandalflute says “I clean him up…”
I remember when my oldest child was about nine months old. She already could say a few words (Mama, Daddy, and NO!). We were driving to Corpus Christi, TX and were on one of those interminable stretches of road when I began to smell a suspicious odor and hear some grunts from the back seat. “Better find a place to stop so I can check her diaper,” I told my husband, “I’m not 100% sure, but I think someone’s pooping back there.” Just as he was pulling into a gas station, from the backseat we heard the baby speak–“DUMP!!!” she said clearly and emphatically. It’s a good thing DH was already pulling off the road, because he damn nearly wrecked us anyway. It’s diffcult to drive safely when you’re laughing that hard.
As it turned out, she wasn’t poopy–just passing gas, but just the idea that at nine months old, she knew what that word referred to was hilarious!
My mother used to tell this story about me. I was about 3, and we were driving from Montgomery, Alabama to Okahumpka, Florida. I announced to my mother that I had to go potty. She was in a hurry, and kept putting me off - “hold it just a little bit longer until we stop for gas” - until I wet myself. On the trip back to Alabama, I again felt the call of nature and told her I had to go. She tried to stall me again, until I said “Do you remember what happened last time? It’s about to happen again.”
My brother was particularly talented at waiting until we were past the exit for the only bathroom for the next 20 miles and then announcing that he had to go. After being asked before the exit if he had to, and saying no.
I haven’t been on a road trip with him for years and seeing as he’s 21 he’d damn well better not still do that!
Hee, I didn’t think about that. No, he’s in Cub Scouts, and I usually don’t clean him up after the bathroom. I just couldn’t stay in the car and go “ya done yet?” Sometimes our bodies take over control (lord knows I’ve experienced that) and it’s a scary thing to a kid. Plus, I got to make sure no poo came back in the car
On the third day of my last week of employment by Child Protective Services (i.e., last Wednesday), I was mapping out my day’s destinations at Yahoo Maps, when I felt that “you’d better go right now!” feeling.
I ignored it, figuring I’d go in a few minutes. After all, I only needed one more map.
BAD mistake. I did something I haven’t done in a very long time. :o
I only ended up taking care of one case that day, since I spent the morning at home until I felt quite sure that the morning’s excitement was not going to happen again.
Can I say that was the high point of my 9.5 months’ tenure with Child Protective services? :rolleyes:
When our now-10yo son was an infant, he went through a brief period of refusing to poop in his diaper. He was VERY young–like four or five months old–and after a couple of days where he didn’t poop in his diaper, but looked like he needed to poop, I pulled out his big sister’s no-longer-needed potty seat and propped him up on it. He got this VERY relieved look on his face, and let loose. It’s important to know here that he was born deaf (and had only just been diagnosed), and with low muscle tone (which meant he didn’t even start to crawl until he was a year old), but he apparently had control of his bowels then.
I started putting him on the potty seat about once a day, and it became kind of a routine. I was a SAHM, and Mr. Kiminy wasn’t home much for this, since it normally happened during the day when he was at work. Then we went on a longish drive on vacation. After a few hours on the road, Son got this look on his face and turned beet red. I told Mr. Kiminy to pull off at the next exit. After we stopped, I pulled out the potty seat I had thrown into the back of the car (to Mr. Kiminy’s amusement, since Daughter was completely reliable, and Son was only five months old), and propped Son on it. Sure enough, poop galore came out, (again, much to Mr. Kiminy’s amusement). The potty seat was put inside a garbage bag, and we then continued to the next rest area, where I cleaned out the potty seat.
Unfortunately, it didn’t last. While we were on vacation, Son apparently decided that the diaper was an “okay” place to poop after all, and it was four more years before he decided to try it again.
I meant (as if you didn’t know) that when the oldest of the three children I NOW have was nine months old! :wally