What's in Your Shoes?

I have written a little about the perspective changing power of parenting. As soon as our first child emerges from the womb we see and think of many things in a new light. Foremost among these is... poop. In an instance poop goes from a revolting, taboo subject to something that demands inquiry, study and discussion. Especially in the early years, poop and poop related matters become the center of most discussions between parents. Diaper changes, blow-outs, consistency, frequency, amount, potty training successes/failures - all of these become valid topics of discussion for all parents. This is perfectly normal. Granted, these conversations should probably not be had at the dinner table over a steaming bowl of chili. But for those not in the know, even this can happen as poop becomes a severe preoccupation with moms and dads, particularly those that are at home with the kids all day long.

For the stay-at-home parent, poop occupies a large chunk of your energy. Even if your not dealing with poop directly, it is mentally ever present. Will this food constipate my child? How easily will these new clothes come off my kid for diaper changes? Which ointment should I get for diaper rash? Do we need more air-freshener? Should I wait to go to the store until after the next diaper change? Should I get some stronger laundry detergent?  If your child is crying, more often than not, the first thought is, "do they need a diaper change?" For babies that breast feed, poop is even more important because the only way you can tell if they are actually eating is if they are pooping. There is a saying - you can only be sure of a few things: death and taxes. I would amend that - you can only be sure of a few things: death, taxes and poop.

I don't know if this is common knowledge, but every parent has a poop story. Some of them are more horrific than others. When my most horrific poop story happened to me I really felt like this stuff only happens to me. I found that as I started sharing my poop stories to other parents they would share their stories. As gross as this sounds, it was actually quite nice knowing that poop is a burden every parent has to bear. This wasn't just happening to me. This is the norm. So, for your edification, I present my poop story...

My son at roughly 2 years, in the later potty training stages, fell into a vicious poop hardening cycle. He had a difficult time defecating once, due to firm stools, and so he decided that he just wasn't going to poop again. This of course made him more constipated, which made defecating more painful. This hardened his resolve not to poop as well as his feces. I tried administering enemas, but this was equally, if not more, unpleasant. Suddenly, our bright and cheerful bathroom was becoming dank, unpleasant dungeon, and slowly I was un-potty training my child. After over a week with no bowel movements, I had to concede that I couldn't handle this problem on my own.

Frazzled, I packed up my son and took him to our most excellent doctor. She calmed me saying that this wasn't all that uncommon (You see?! If only more parents had shared their poop stories!). She prescribed a laxative and told us that this we should use it to flush him out and then continue to use it in smaller doses to keep his stools soft so that we could continue with the potty training in a more pleasant fashion. I was expecting his prescription to come in a little bottle - you know, like Pepto Bismal. What we got was a jug... more akin to Drain-O. I had to think back to the words my doctor said when I had asked "What if he still refuses to poop?" She paused and calmly said, "He won't have a choice." I can't be sure, but I recall the corners of her mouth curling up ever so slightly.

Days passed and nothing happened despite our vigilant administration of his medication. Then one day my son was in the backyard playing. I was tiding up the house, keeping an eye on him through the open sliding glass back door. "Dad!" he called to me. I could see him standing quite stiff like he was frozen.

"What is it, buddy?" I answered.

"There is poop in my shoes."

Now, we have a large dog, so when he said this I just assumed this was his 2 year old way of telling me he'd stepped in dog crap. Seeing that this event, whatever it was, had immobilized him, I went out to investigate. No doubt you have guessed that he was speaking quite literally, and it was indeed his own poop in his shoes, but how exactly does poop get into shoes? The answer is simply, it goes there when it has nowhere left to go.

I would briefly like to preform a small thought exercise with you. Imagine two weeks of food - that's three meals, plus snacks, a day for at least 14 days. For those of you not mathematically inclined, that"s 42 meals. Now imagine blending all that food and cramming it all into a pair of size 2T pants. This will help you mentally visualize what I walked out to that afternoon. It looked like MacBeth's witches were trying boil my son in an overflowing trouser shaped cauldron filled with poo. Both pant legs were stuffed to brimming with a slurry that resembled freshly mixed beige concrete. So much so, that the feces had no where to go but out the top and out of the bottom, and into his shoes.

This is one of the ways in which parenting builds character. I can hear my inner dialogue now. He is your responsibility. There is no getting out of this. No one is going to clean this up for you. It needs to be done and YOU are the one that has to do it. And I did. I went out there and using my thumbs and forefingers I peeled his poo filled pants off of him like a giant brown banana, hosed him down (and his clothes) and put him in a hot bath to be vigorously scrubbed.

Some of you will never experience anything this bad, some of you have had worse happen (at least I was at home!), and some of you have experiences yet to come! As gross as they are, these experiences make us better parents if for no other reason than they show us how dedicated we can be as parents and what we're willing to do for our kids. And for all you kid-less folks, be patient with us dads and moms and all of our poo-talk. It is, for good or bad, a major part of our lives.

-Brother Brett