Remember the post in which my son excitedly announced that his poo was in the shape of a grenade (interestingly the post is also entitled: “whore whore whore whore” give or take a few whores, and was the MOST read post I’ve ever written! I know right! Who knew the word “whore” would be such a draw? Not me. No way. No sirree. I would never title a post just to direct traffic my way. Really, I wouldn’t.)
Anyway, in said post, I was also a little miffed because the grenade poo apparently exploded into the toilet, leaving my son’s cute little ass all wet.
Oh sure, you’re thinking: “Big deal. So you had to clean the kid up.”
Actually no. I didn’t clean the kid up. That’s what my adoring husband is for.
No. The reason I was miffed is that I am basically jealous of anyone who poos.
Yup. You read that correctly.
That’s because I don’t poo.
Yup. You also read that correctly.
Oh, sure maybe I poo bi-monthly.
But it’s nothing to brag about. It’s never a great big satisfying dump like the ones my husband comes out of the can bragging about twice or three times a day.
So last Thursday, my friend hands me a jar of herbal supplements.
“Take two of these every day,” she says, “I guarantee you’ll shit regularly.”
She then proceeds to explain that her sister has the same constipation issues that I have, and by taking these regularly, she comes out of the bathroom singing.
I immediately have a vision of how happy and carefree my husband is when he comes out of the bathroom, and yeah, I’m pretty sure he sometimes comes out of there singing.
So I’m like, “I want to sing too!”
Ok, fast forward 3 days later, I’m following my friend’s orders.
Still not pooing though.
However, my bowels are making the scariest noises you’ve ever heard.
The sound is a cross between a Tyrannosaurus Rex and a military Herc.
image from here
image from here
The sound is so loud, my entire family can hear it.
They can hear it over the sound of their laughter.
They can hear it over the sound of the hockey game my husband is watching.
They can even hear it over the sound of my husband yelling at the TV, “Shoot the puck! Shoot the puck!”
You’d think with all the waring factions in my gut, that I’d at least get a good old fart out of the deal.
At this point, I don’t even care if I never shit again. I just want the bowel noises to subside.
So I’m laying with my youngest at bedtime, and the dinosaurs are roaring in my gut.
The boy lifts my shirt and watches my abdomen…you know, in case a creature actually crawls out of me.
He then says, “If you want Mom, I can teach you how to fart. I know you can only make the smelly kind. But I can teach you how to make the loud ones.”
Ok, so clearly, this kid’s future girlfriend is going to have a lot of explaining to do.
The supplements were effective six days later.
The sounds erupting from the bowels of the earth, ie. the author’s stomach, have thankfully subsided.
The author is still only capable of making stinky farts and has yet to make a big ol’ noisy one, despite specific instructions on how to do so from the seven year old.