Toilet Time

Grab a mug of CHAOSFUEL and sit back ready to have a rant about poo!
You know what I miss most now I’m a parent? Personal Time!
No I don’t mean 50 shades style, I mean going for a poop without an audience! I miss those times when you used to go up for a wee, but still end up sat there playing on your phone or reading the next chapter. Because let’s face it, those toilet seats get comfy after about 20 minutes.
frog on the toilet playing on his phone
So even now when you go up for literally 2 minutes because you’re desperate, they need to go as soon as your arse touches that seat. Even if they don’t want to go, they have to know exactly what you’re doing and why you’re doing it. They stick to you like glue!
Now this isn’t too bad until you have a house full. Let me set the scene: I had my family over for a family party. I tried to disappear out the door as quietly as I could, so Gabriel wouldn’t cotton on that I am going to that very amazing place, the bathroom. As with any child they can’t hear their name being shouted over and over again but they can hear tiny (really quiet as I knew what would happen) footsteps on the stairs.
I honestly thought I had managed to outwit him, as I locked the bathroom door and sat down with relief, I had out smarted my 3 year old. He didn’t know I had snuck away. Five minutes of quiet oh how I have missed you. Ha ha ha ha how silly I was! Just as my arse touched that seat I heard the door handle of the living room squeaking. Gabriel stood at the bottom of the stairs and shouted at the top of his voice “Mummy, are you ok?” (awe how sweet, wait for it) “Are you having a poo? AGAIN?” By now I can hear my brother snickering whilst Andy is trying to hustle Gabriel back in to the living room. Bloody kids why do we have them.
I suppose this is all my fault. My husband works nights and from Gabriel being a baby I didn’t want to leave him with the dogs in the living room, so I used to always take him upstairs with me. He got older and it wasn’t the dogs I couldn’t trust, it was Gabe. So he always ended up being dragged up stairs with me. You see because daddy was asleep in bed, Gabe only wanted to play with the noisiest things, or start chasing the dogs with their squeaky toys as soon as I left the room.
I started to leave him down stairs when he was three, as by now he should know right from wrong. Now he did know right from wrong and he was a very good boy, most of the time, but you can bet your last pound on the fact that as soon as I needed to go, so did he! Whether that was as I asked him to give me a minute or whether that was shouting me from the bottom of the stairs as loud as he could. Loud enough to wake daddy for sure.
I honestly thought when you were older and more sophisticated (LOL), you would stop talking about poo as much! Nope that doesn’t happen. You have that brief interlude between being a teenager and being a parent, that the word poop very rarely leaves your lips. Now you’re a parent you’re either talking about your child’s poop, the fact that you never get time to poop, or the fact that daddy gets 20 minutes every fucking hour to poop.
picture of a cartoon poop
Also if you’re not talking about poop with your friends and family, then your talking about it with a doctor. This includes the shape, size and consistency. I’m sure they expect you not to be running from the bathroom liberally spraying as much, Febreeze as you can possibly breath through. I don’t know about anyone else but contrary to what the Dr’s think I definitely don’t have my head stuck down the toilet dissecting it, to find out all of its properties before waving bye bye and pressing the flush. Nope I am out of there like my life depends on it.
And then you get the awkward times. When your child can’t poop. Honestly I can be sat in the living room listening to what can only be described as, a mouse giving birth to an elephant, type grunting from Gabe at the other end of the house! So in my infinite wisdom the way to make someone poop is to make them some poop inducing food. Now I out right refuse to make 3 different meals at tea time. Everyone eats the same thing whether they like it or not! (I’m so mean). So I made the nicest ever lentil curry. It was beautiful, however it did nothing for Gabe, but the rest of us couldn’t get off the toilet for two days. Lesson learned give Gabe poop inducing food but no-one else!
This is the whole reason behind my mum mugs. My mummy musings have inspired a whole new collection aimed straight at real mums, who drop the occasional F-bomb and who love delicious air roasted coffee.
Do you have any embarrassing poop stories? I would love to hear them so pop them in the comments below. Feel free to share with your mummy friends too.

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