If you’ve got kids (hell, if you simply know kids) you’ve got poop stories. We all do.
Some are better than others. Some become legendary.
What’s amazing is how women — moms especially — are completely unfazed by them. We don’t gag, or retch or hold up our hands in an “Oh, please stop” gesture when hearing them. We nod, take another bite of our sandwich and pour another glass of whatever. Face it: many of us have chosen to share our lives (and our bathrooms) with well, men. Odorous, smelly, aromatic, reeking men. (I happen to find this to be an immensely fair trade-off: in exchange, my lawn is mowed and I don’t have to string Christmas lights. Small price.) Honestly, once women have weathered diaper duty really, there’s little to make us put down our food (even less to make us put down our glass).
I recently found out one of my sons has a pooping bathroom. Lucky me. It’s the one attached to my bedroom.
One day he began his business in our designated ‘kids’ bathroom when a crisis occurred: Midway through … he realized he was in the wrong place. (I know. I’m lucky he finds his classes every day. Stay with me here.) Panicked, he shuffled (visual: pants around ankles) down the long stretch of hallway until he reached his — er, my — sanctuary. And thus finished.
He managed to clean himself up without issue – with an entire tub of Lysol wipes. Captain Obvious now arrives to declare that THIS, people, is what makes a mom’s forehead veins pulse – not the actual poop going into the plumbing system (only mothers of boys truly know how disproportionate this amount is to a small body) but the entire tub of Lysol wipes. Before my lid flipped I made a deal with the devil: Satan, oh Satan, please spare my septic tank.
My kid didn’t even tell me about his adventure until hours later (the important message being — of course — that he had run down the hall with his pants down. To him, that was the story.) Naturally.
With three sons, I have no shortage of stinky tales.
Funny thing, though — when little boys eventually grow into big men their personal attachment to bathrooms continues. My husband and his friends often marvel at the grandeur of the men’s room at our local Home Depot. Apparently it’s at the top of their list of public restrooms because – newsflash – men actually spend a great deal of time in them and pffft, yes, definitely have a Top Three.
More amusing than that: when this topic comes up in mixed company (it does and you know it) there will be women who will flatly insist they’ve gone on entire vacations without ever having going once .., or have waited until weekend house guests have left their own homes … or simply have found relief only once they’ve gotten home from Home Depot. Despite pleas from their husbands.
Men, as expected, will continue to be completely freaked out by this.
What I’m going to find beyond hilarious is just how many people will click onto this post knowing full well it’s about poop. Just poop.
Who knows, maybe it was that cute little poop emoji drew everyone in?
(And my septic’s getting pumped on Friday.)
Tina Drakakis blogs at Eyerollingmom and was featured in the 2014 Boston production of “Listen to Your Mother: Giving Motherhood a Microphone.” Her work has been featured in NPR’s “This I Believe” radio series yet she places “Most Popular 1984” on top of her list of achievements. (Next would be the home improvement reality TV show of 2003 but her kids won’t let her talk about that anymore). A witty mother of four, she takes on cyberspace as @Eyerollingmom on Twitter and Eyerollingmom on Facebook. and@Eyerollingmom on Instagram.