“Everybody poops… sometime. You know that everybody poops.” (cue R.E.M. background music)

Yes… I realize I have not posted anything in a long, long time. No… you will NOT make me feel guilty. You try running around after a now one-year-old who walked early, thinks she should keep up with her older brothers, and firmly believes every scrap of paper she can get her hands on should be shredded or eaten as an appetizer. Enough said.

"And baby makes 5..."

“And baby makes 5…”

Anyhoo, I came to my blog today to share my family’s poop adventures. I’m not shitting you (pun intended). Any of you out there who have kids still in diapers or young boys obsessed with potty words (read: any boys, maybe your husband, too) probably grow weary of hearing, literally, about crap. At my house, it’s like a public service announcement. All family members feel they need to share when they have to take a dump, as if they need to lay claim to one of the four bathrooms, or, at least the one that has toilet paper. I grow tired of hearing about butts, poop, little weenuses, and just about anything related to it. And one day, after discussing bodily movements over dinner, I announced that I had simply had enough.

The boys looked at me open-mouthed. “What?” “Are you serious?” “You don’t want to hear about our poop?” (Giggle. Giggle.)

“No! Not only do I not want to hear about it… but I’m tired of seeing it every damn time you forget to flush.”

“Oh,” in unison, with heavy sighs of sadness.

Mom sighs and — get this shit (pun intended again) — gives in! “Can we at least code it or call it something else if we must announce it? Not everyone at ___________ (insert restaurant here) needs to know that you’re about to de-foul the restroom.”

“Like secret code??????” Excitement growing.

“Yeah….. like secret code. We’ll all do it!” Feigned excitement from mom.

So yes, we all have a secret code we use when we have to go. And it goes right along with our own individual likes and interests. Don’t believe me, read these:

Father: “I have to go drop the kids off at school.” Something he does both literally every week-day morning AND in poop-speak. In fact, he looooves to go drop the kids off at school because that means he either literally gets to escape to work or in poop-speak gets to read Car & Driver magazine un-interrupted.
Mother: “I have to see a man about a wallaby.” Stolen directly from Finding Nemo. Because Disney movies are all I ever get to watch anymore. And why does P. Sherman always need to poop in the middle of a root canal?

This dentist really likes wallabies.

This dentist really likes wallabies.

 

 

 

Nate: “I have to go deposit some pennies in the bank.” Comes from my money-obsessed but clearly clueless son. (The kids thinks he’s rich because he has about $150 dollars in the bank. He once asked us if we ever spend $1,000 dollars at once. Ummm hello, mortgage? Routine colonoscopies (while we’re talking poop)?
Matt: “I have to take the train out of the tunnel.” You all know how obsessed he is with trains, right? His code is perhaps the most fitting. Sometimes he even changes it up by saying “The train is leaving the station…”

It beats some shitty chocolate choo-choo reference.

It beats some shitty chocolate choo-choo reference.

…and last but not least…

Peyton: “Miss P needs to mind her P’s and Poos.” Yes, I realize Peyton can’t say much yet, but Miss P is her nickname, she does need a more proper code and it beats me calling out “Holy shit, Peyton!” when I change her diaper.

So now that I’ve disclosed the family’s secrets, if you hear Nate discussing pennies at the local restaurant, or you hear Matt screaming “The train is leaving the station, now, mom!” through the open window at the carpool line, you keep that snicker to yourself. And come up with your own shitty euphemisms.

pooping

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