Whiney the Poo
By Betty Fokker on August 12, 2013
Sorry I didn’t blog on Friday, but I was distracted by the fact my baby turned her bunghole inside out again. Spock went on another poop strike, and managed to hold off crapping so long that she was able to stretch her colon and make a ginormous mass of caca so big that when her body finally forced her to pass it, it took her rectum along for the slide.
This is the kid that gets mineral oil every night, BTW.
I’ve spent the last few days BEGGING her to poop. I pleaded. I cajoled. I coaxed. All to no avail. Spock has decided that because she doesn’t like to poop, she will just never poop again. It’s only logical right? She dismisses my assurances that 1) she will have to go eventually 2) it hurts more the longer she puts it off and 3) she is driving me crazy as the hysterical ramblings of a stupid human.
On Friday the situation was getting desperate. She was clearly in pain yet was still fighting the urge to dump the load with all her mighty will. Thus, I took her to Dr. Turtle to get an enema. I thought this was both medically necessary and might also convince her that holding her shit was not worth the hassle. I didn’t want to give it to her myself because I have never done one and was afraid I would hurt her. Plus, things have more gravitas when done by the godlike Dr. Turtle.
However, no sooner had the nurse weighed her (34 pounds) and taken us to the little exam room, Spock’s innards detonated and she HAD to poop. I had put her back into a diaper for just such an occurrence so I held her while she screamed and involuntarily extruded what can only be described as a Louisville Slugger. Seriously, it was like she had shit her own forearm. unhappily there was a little “tongue” of rectum peeping out from her anus, so it was clear passing that hella poo had been a problem for her tiny butthole. I weighed her again and she was suddenly only 32 pounds. She had made a two pound poo.
Dr. Turtle came in and checked Spock out, making sure there was no “real” damage and pointing out how the rectum had gone back to normal on it’s own in under 60 seconds, which relieved me. She also saw the size of unholy ass-baby Spock had made and was almost impressed. She said, “You weren’t kidding about the baseball bat thing, were you?”
Now, we are on a mission to thwart Spock’s will. We have to keep her poo at the consistency of peanut butter or cake batter. This will allow her rectum to return to normal size and will also prevent her from “holding” it in until it forms a mass the size of a chihuahua. Since we already give her water and fresh fruit and all the other things that are supposed to help, we are having to call in larger fire power. We are upping the amount of mineral oil she takes until she might as well be drinking it from a soup tureen and are adding psyllium seed husks to her food. The husks need LOTS of hydration, which turns them into a “goo”. We soak a tsp of the husks in a cup of coconut milk and then add this goo into her foods. We have to be stealthy, but we’ve gotten into her pancakes and her yogurt thus far.
As a result, it had been the weekend of the never-ending poo. Spock also decided she wants to wear diapers on the weekend, even though she is potty trained at her preschool. Of course, once we told her it was fine to wear diapers, she now happily pulls down the diapers to do her business in the potty. That’s how an Aquarius rolls, apparently.
by Betty Fokker
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