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Pee & Poop

  • The Shower Scene

    This is one of those stories that I probably shouldn’t be sharing, but I am going to anyway.  It all started with me wanting to take a shower.  You know, every once in a while that happens.  And of course, The Munch decided she wanted to take one with me.

    Munch: Mamma, I want to take a shower with you!

    Toni: Okay that is fine.

    Munch: But I need my bathing suit.

    Toni: Uhhhh… I guess.

    Munch: But I only want my bikini top.  Not the bottom.

    Toni: Yeah, that’s a good look. Makes sense to me.

    Munch: Mamma, you have to block me in the shower, the water is getting on me.

    Toni: Ummmm yeah… that is kind of the point.

    Munch: No Mamma block me! My hair is getting wet! The water is getting in my eyes.

    Toni: Dude, that is a prerequisite of getting in the shower -that your face and hair get wet.

    Munch: Pick me up!! I want uppie!

    Toni: Fine.  Dude, you are covered in soap.  It is like holding a greased pig. I am going to drop you because you are so slippery.

    Munch: I am not so slippery.

    Toni: I think you are. I am going to put you down.

    Munch: No Mamma, hold me!

    Toni: Munch, I have to wash my hair now.  I am going to put you down.

    Munch: But the water is going to get in my eyes!

    Toni: So why don’t you get out if you don’t want the water in your eyes?

    After The Munch finally got out, I could do what normal people do in the shower – like get my face and hair wet.  I leisurely washed my hair, and then realized she had been gone for quite a long time.  I stayed in there for a while and enjoyed not being bossed around, but then started to wonder what my little wet naked child was doing.

    Finally The Munch came back in the bathroom, and as we were toweling off she told me this story.  At first I assumed her story was a story from her imagination.  That she was telling a pretend narrative, because the content of her story was too disturbing for me to even consider it being real.  Then I realized that she was telling an actual story of true events that really happened while I naively enjoyed my shower.

    Munch: Mamma, when you were in the shower, I was running around playing, and a poops came out of my bum.

    Toni: Uh huh… that is nice.

    Munch: And it was green. And it just fell out of by bum.

    Toni: Right right…

    Munch: So then I looked for a napkin, and I cleaned it up.

    Toni: Wait… what?

    Munch: Yeah. I found a napkin and I cleaned it up.

    Toni: You cleaned what up?

    Munch: The poops that fell out of my bum!

    Toni: Wait, Munch did this really happen?

    Munch: Yeah!

    Toni: What napkin did you use?

    Munch: The one from the kitchen that you dry your hands on after you wash them.

    Toni: Can you show me?

    Munch: Yeah!

    And sure enough, there was the napkin with poop on it.

    Toni: Wait Munch, were did you poop?

    Munch: Right here on the rug!

    Toni: You just squatted down and pooped?

    Munch: Yeah! I just squatted real low and the poop fell out of my bum and it was green!

    I mean, if I am going to raise the type of kid that would poop on a rug, at least I also raised the type of kid who would have the decency to clean it up.  I think I am doing a pretty good job.

    (Here I am trying to digest this very troubling information)



    August 5, 2013 • 3 years old, Family Drama, Pee & Poop, Talking and Not Talking • Views: 1154

  • Yeah, I Went There

    Hi.  Things are about to get real intimate between us.  You may say to yourself while reading this.  “Toni, why? Why are you doing this to me? Why are you making me read this?”  And my only answer is because I had to.  I had to do this to you.

    In the 3 years since birthing a child, the only time I don’t have an audience when going to the bathroom is when The Munch is asleep.  It is hard to remember a life when I didn’t have big blue eyes staring at me intently as feces expelled from my being.  As an infant The Munch would lie on my lap, as baby she would sit on the floor, and now as a toddler she will barge in and insist on having a conversation.

    But I don’t want my child to have a complex about her body, or body parts, or excreting bodily needs.  I am not an uptight person.  When I was a kid my best friend and I would keep each other company for every bowel movement.  If things got really wild, she would put lotion under our noses giving us little white Hitler mustaches to help mask the stench.  Granted we were then inhaling the scent of gardenia-scented poo, my point is that I accustomed to communal bathroom habits.

    Yet even though I poop with the best of them, I have always been pretty private about my period.  As a woman you are expected to keep it to yourself.  You would never show a friend your tampon and say “check how full that one got!” or “look at this massive clot! It’s a good thing that wasn’t in my brain!” We just don’t do that.

    So the other day when I was in the bathroom changing my pad and The Munch walked…

    Munch: Mamma what are you doing?

    Toni: I am just going to the bathroom.  Give me a minute I will be right out!

    Munch: What is that?

    Toni: Its nothing.  Just give me a second!

    Munch: But Mamma what is that?

    Now I could have just lied to her, or told her to go away.  But part of me was like “fuck it.”  For one, maybe if I just told her the truth she would be so freaked out that she would leave me the fuck alone when I was in the bathroom. And another part of me was thinking that she is going to go through this anyway, so why hid it from her.

    I don’t want my daughter to feel embarrassed about her moon cycle. Especially considering that girls all over the world are forced to feel ashamed for their menstruation.  For instance in India many girls don’t have access to sanitary products – so the start of their period it is often the end of their education because of humiliation and societal limitations imposed when they are “impure” and involuntarily bleeding.  Many cultures have taboos regarding the vagina and its monthly menses, which imprison women by their biology.  And even though in the West, Tampax commercials will happily remind you that you can still play tennis, go on boat rides, and walk in a field with their tampons to plug up your poon, it is still something that women feel they have to hide from the world.

    Yet the insanity is the fact that a woman’s need to ride the cotton pony is part of the whole her having babies thing- so what the fuck world?  I know it is kind of yuck, but it is also why we are all here.  I am not saying chicks should just bleed all over the place because that would ruin our clothes and couches, but I am saying that it is a real injustice to be made to feel like its dirty.

    So this is what went down…

    Toni: It’s my pad Munch.

    Munch: Is that a diaper?

    Toni: Yup.  Kind of like a diaper.

    Munch: A Mamma diaper?

    Toni: Exactly.

    Munch: But what’s that? What’s on your diapi?

    Toni: Blood.

    Munch: Blood?

    Toni: Yup.

    Munch: But where did it come from? Your butt?

    Toni: Sort of.  It came from my baby hole.

    Munch: Are you getting a new diapi to put in your underpants?

    Toni: I am.

    Munch: But don’t bleed on that one okay?

    Toni: I will do my best.



  • What Do you Pray For?

    Some people pray for a world without war.  Others to end famine.  I personally pray for the day I can take a crap in peace.

    Munch: “Where are you going?”

    Toni: “I just have to go bathroom.”

    Munch: “Are you going just pee? Or poops?”

    Toni: “That is my business.”

    Munch: “NO IT’S MY BUSINESS! Oh… you are going poops.”

    Toni: “Sigh. Yes you are right.”

    Munch: “Here let me give you toilet paper.”

    Toni: “Munch, no, give that back to me.”


    Toni: “Fine.”

    Munch: “Here.”

    Toni: “I need more than square munch.”

    Munch: “You want another one?”

    Toni: “Yes.”

    Munch: “Here.”

    Toni: “Munch, give it to me.  I need more than one square at a time.”

    And with that… she just ran away laughing with the toilet paper.  Leaving me on the toilet to rot.


    But she had the nerve to just ignore me.  I could hear The Munch laughing in the other room.  So finally I waddled over to the living room with my pants around my knees… and there I found her.  She had taken all the last of the toilet paper and balled each square individually into tiny little balls.

    Toni: “Munch!! Why did you do that? I can’t wipe my bum with dingleberries!”

    Munch: “Maybe you can just eat them?”




  • The Worst Story Ever…. And a Total Waste of Money

    I kind of think vets are scam artists.  I know they help your pets and all, but every time I am there they push Heart Guard and Frontline like a crack dealers.  They guilt trip me for not wanting to get the $2000 vaccine package like I am a bad person, and act like I don’t love my dog if I don’t do exactly as they suggest.  I have never walked out the door without spending at least $600.

    So I tend to avoid the vet.  I only take my dog when I think it is really necessary.  And this was one of those times.  Her breath was not okay.  It was pretty rancid.  Considering she is 11, I figured maybe it was time to get her teeth cleaned.  So I made an appointment…

    Vet: “Okay, you will bring Mona in at 8:30 and can come pick her up at 4.00”

    Toni: “Alright.”

    Vet: “She is going to need some general anesthesia because we put the dogs down for dental cleanings.”

    Toni: “She needs anesthesia to brush her teeth?”

    Vet: “Yes.”

    Toni: “Okay… is that going to be safe for her?”

    Vet: “Well, we do a full exam before hand and check her for heartworm and other complications.  So that will be an extra $200.”

    Toni: “Yikes.”

    Vet: “I also see that she is due for some vaccines.  The lxkdjfoainx and the xdjfsoif and wait one other… uyidjakdcdso.” (I wasn’t really listening).

    Toni: “Yeesh.”

    Vet: “So should we go ahead and do all of those.  Mona is getting older and these are very important if you want her to live a long healthy life. You do care about her right? You do want the best for her don’t you?”

    Toni: “Yes of course.”

    Vet: “Okay great.  So I will set you up for those. Your total comes to $670.  See you Thursday.”

    Toni: “Great.”

    Munch and I went to pick Mona up and were then told a whole list of potential problems my dog may or may not be having.

    Vet: “You see how her skin is scaly on her tummy? She may have Cushing’s disease”

    Toni: “Oh dear.”

    Vet: “Have you noticed a lot of frequent urination? Or drinking of water?”

    Toni: “I mean I guess.  She does drink water and she does pee.  How do I know if it’s frequent?”

    Vet: “Yes that sounds bad.  We highly suggest you do the senior’s evaluation as soon as possible.  That is of course if you have a soul and want your dog to live a peaceful life.”

    Toni: “Okay lets do it.”

    Vet: “Great we can schedule you for Monday.  Make sure to get a urine sample into this cup before you come in.”

    Toni: “How on earth am I going to do that?  I don’t have her potty trained to pee in cup.”

    Vet: “You just have to follow her outside with a plate of a bowl and slip in under her as she squats.  Then you would poor the urine into the cup and keep in the refrigerator.”

    Toni: “Sounds easy enough.”

    Vet: “Fantastic.  So that will be $600 for the senior’s visit when you come.  Have a great weekend.”

    Toni: “Great.”

    As we left The Munch decided she wanted to go to the beach to play outside with Mona.

    Toni: “We have to go get some wet food for Mona Munch first.  She had two teeth pulled when she got her teeth cleaned.  So she needs soft food.”

    Munch: “Lets go to the beach first and then get wet food.  She wants to run around.”

    Toni: “Okay.  But just for a bit.”

    We get to the beach and are having a grand old time until…

    Munch: “Mamma, quick.  I have to go potty!”

    Toni: “Pee or poop.”

    Munch: “Pee.”

    Toni: “Okay lets just go outside okay?”

    Munch: “Okay quick.”

    Toni: “Wait Munch.  Are you pooping?

    Munch: “Yes.”

    Toni: “Crap we don’t have any toilet paper.”

    Munch: “What?”

    Toni: “Never mind.  Just concentrate on what you are doing.”

    Munch: “I am all done.”

    Toni: “Munch I don’t have any toilet paper.”

    Munch: “Use some leaves.”

    Toni: “Son of a…  They are all so dry.  It’s going to get poops my hands if I use these.”

    Munch: “Uh oh.”

    Toni: “Listen, I am going to run to the car and see if I can find something. I will be right back.”

    Munch: “Okay.”

    I ran to the car and found an old mitten.  There was only one, so I figured it was the best I could do.  I got back to Munch and there she was, standing patiently holding her dress up waiting for me.  But mysteriously the poop was gone.

    Toni: “Oh no.”

    Munch: “What?”

    Toni: “Munch, did Mona eat your poop.”

    Munch: “Yes.”

    Toni: “Oh God.”

    Munch: “Mamma, now her teeth are all dirty again.”

    Well, at least she got her wet food?



  • Hey Mom, Stop Stalking Me With Your Voice

    “Be careful how you talk to your children, because one day that will become their inner voice.” – some quote on Facebook (is that ligit to say now? Can I just quote shit with “eh… saw it on my news feed?”)

    I think this is a really interesting idea.  I know all of us have our mother’s/father’s voices in our heads – yapping away as part of our internal dialogue.  Judging, and telling you what to do… “Toni be careful of crumbs or the ants will come.  Toni throw away your Popsicle sticks.  Toni don’t paint your nails on the living room rug.  Toni don’t walk with your hands in your pocket because if you trip you won’t be able to catch yourself and will fall on your face.” Okay so obviously my mom was obsessed with cleanliness and my dad once had a really bad fall.

    Recently I noticed that not only is my mom’s voice in the phone giving me orders to keep things tidy, or in my head further critiquing, but she is also coming out of my child’s mouth!

    Let me explain.  Every time my mom comes over to my house she has to take the toilet paper, which is usually placed on the floor next to the toilet, and put it on the roll.

    “Toni, why don’t you put the toilet paper on the roll? I just had to do it for you again.”

    “Well because it is just going to run out and I will have to take the empty paper roll off, then put the other roll on.  I can’t stand the futility and repetition – all the time it wastes in life.”

    “That takes two seconds?!”

    “Well mom, that is two seconds I just don’t have.”

    But ever since Munch started using the potty she insists I always put the toilet paper on the roll!  She will freak out if I don’t!!  I am not sure if the Munch and my mom are in on this together? I have also noticed that The Munch makes me clean up crumbs immediately upon their creation – even if she is the one making them.  Is this only the beginning of constant badgering coming from every direction in my life? Come to think of it, I am pretty sure The Munch is a secret operative for my mom’s agenda.

    (Hahahahahaha I your face Mom and Munch!)


    April 18, 2013 • 2 years old, Baby Brain, Family Drama, Musings, Pee & Poop, Relationships • Views: 1789

  • Revisionist History

    The Munch really likes when I tell her stories of my childhood, and especially wants to hear adventures with my brother, her Uncle Laszlo.  Yet you would think she would be a passive participant in this process, and enjoy the narrative without interruption.  Not my child.  The Munch is like an elitist historian who has no problem revising the facts and interjecting opinions to sculpt a version she can approve of.

    This is the tale of “Toni and Uncle Laszlo in the bath” she makes me tell every night before bed.

    Toni: “Once upon a time when Mamma was a little girl…”

    Munch: “No! Mamma was a baby!”

    Toni: “Okay fine, when Mamma was a baby…. She was taking a bath with Uncle Laszlo.”

    Munch: “And Uncle Laszlo was not wearing his shoes.”

    Toni: “Right.  So Mamma and Uncle Laszlo were in the bath and they were having so much fun.  They were laughing, and playing, and singing…”

    Munch: “But they weren’t singing Itsy Bitsy Spider.”

    Toni: “No.  So then, baby Mamma saw something floating towards her.  And she thought… ‘what is that? Is it a rubber ducky? No… Is it a bar of soap? No… Is it a washcloth? No… Its poops!!!’ Uncle Laszlo had pooped in the bath!”

    Munch: “No Uncle Laszlo didn’t poop in the bath!”

    Toni: “Munch, I am pretty sure he did, otherwise this would be a kind of a lame story.”

    Munch: “No he didn’t poop in the bath!! MAMMA POOPED IN THE BATH!”

    Toni: “No Munch.  Mamma didn’t poop in that bath.  Mamma is a lady!”

    Munch: “MAMMA DID POOP IN THE BATH! And Uncle Laszlo was crying.  And he said ‘Don’t poop in the bath anymore.’ And then he had so many tears.  But he didn’t get soap in his eyes.  And he didn’t wash his hair.  And there where three bubbles.  One, two, three.  And they were so high.  And they were tiny tiny tiny tiny tiny.  But they tasted like candy. No sugar.  No ice cream.  And he ate them all up.  Uncle Laszlo wasn’t crying any more.

    Toni: “Wow Munch – that is a really good story.  I think that was exactly what happened.”



  • That’s Snot Okay!

    Although my own boogers have proved to provide endless entertainment and distraction from boredom, I am actually quite horrified by the nose droppings of others.  I have forced myself to come to peace with the snot of The Munch, considering she has been known to use my shirt as a Kleenex, and often leaves a patty of mucus on my shoulder after an intense cry.  I will admit though, I have yet to fully suppress my gag reflex when she eats her nasal candy.

    But The Munch is the spawn of my DNA, so her bodily secretions are less gross then if she were not my genetic semi-clone.  She is an extension of my insides, except with feet, and her own face.  Her piss and shit has been the soundtrack to my life, and I have learned to deal with her excretions with as much dignity as a Victorian Lady with dysentery.

    But that does not mean I am comfortable with other people’s boogers being wiped on me.  Which is what my friend kept doing as a joke over the weekend.  I started to have a visceral reaction that seemed like it was coming from a primal wound from my past.  In an effort to uncover this trauma I was engaging in some intense talk therapy over the phone with my most trusted confident.

    “You know, she just kept wiping her boogers on me.  Although I can appreciate the comedy, actually looking at the glistening slime on my pants produced surges of vomit to bellow up the back of my throat.  I am not sure why I have such an aversion?? Maybe it dates back to when my brother would take his boogers and attach them to his eyelashes, extending the green goblin from the top set to the bottom.  He would keep his eye at half-mast to make sure not to lose this slime soldier and then chase me around the room like that – getting just close enough forcing me to look at his face and watch the booger stretch across the lashes as he blinked.”

    Yeah… come to think of it, I am pretty sure that is the source of my terror.

    (Hard to believe such a sweet face was capable of such psychological warfare.  Although I do think my brother is a comedic genius.  I have a lot to learn from him.  Munch… you better watch out!)

    March 4, 2013 • 2 years old, Baby Body, Family Drama, Musings, Pee & Poop • Views: 1216

  • My Kid is a Tattle Tale

    I know it is important to teach our children honesty and all that crap, but man… kids really can’t keep a secret.

    Example 1:  The Munch was jumping on couch, and at times off the couch into my arms.  We were having fun, but then I got bored and wanted to get my boots so we could go.  Just as I was telling her I would be right back and turned my head, she leapt into the air to jump in my arms and subsequently fell on her head.

    “Munch I am so sorry! I didn’t know you were jumping!”

    “Wahhhhahaaaaaa! You dropped me!!!!”

    “Well, I didn’t exactly drop you, I just didn’t catch you. There is a difference.”


    “Look, I can admit it is sort of my fault you landed on your face, but it is not like I actually dropped you.”

    “That is just semantics!” (or maybe what she actually said was “waaaahhhhhhaaaa!!” It’s hard to remember everything verbatim).

    I figured we had worked through everything and all was fine until we got to the store and The Munch decided to engage a random stranger as we were waiting in line.

    “Mamma dropped me on my head. And I was crying.  I was jumping on the couch and she didn’t catch me and I went boom on my head.  And I was crying.  And Mamma said I didn’t drop you, and I said you did drop me.  And I was crying.”

    Example 2: As a lady, when going to the bathroom I will most likely say “I am going pee” even when I know full well that is not the only act that will be taking place. But I feel more comfortable with people picturing urine coming out of my urethra then feces coming out of my anus.  Just saying.  So, I was at a friend’s house and said I had to use the bathroom to go pee.

    “I wanna come with you Mamma.”

    “Okay fine, come with me.”

    (Keep in mind, the bathroom was next to the living room where quite a few people were sitting… so if one were to talk in said bathroom, it would be impossible not to hear the conversation taking place).

    “Mamma you are going poops!”

    “No Munch I am just doing pee.”


    See! That is definitely poops in there


    January 25, 2013 • 2 years old, Baby Gear, Behavior, Pee & Poop, Talking and Not Talking • Views: 2419

  • Does wearing underwear make you civilized?

    This is going to be one of those blog posts that The Munch is really going to resent me for in the future.  Knowing this let me just say to future Munch, sorry.  I just had to.

    Two-year old Munch, who is now potty trained, refuses to wear underwear.  It is just not her thing.  Maybe this could work out if she didn’t insist on wearing her party dress every day of her life.  Call me old fashioned, but party dress and no panties is pretty much a recipe for trouble.  I am living in a 24-hour porno up in here.

    Now I get where she is coming from.  Underwear does kind of suck.  And come to think of it so do pants.  I am sure it is much more comfortable and freeing for the wind to graze your genitals and keep that whole area fresh.  I am empathetic to her cause and try not to think about it too deeply as she crawls all over my lap, couch, and pillows.

    But what happens when I take her out into the world? Or people come over to the house? My mom tells me that my brother and I would also like to be naked as children, and that one fateful evening my brother was climbing on one of my mother’s house guest with his “wingy ding” flopping round in their ear. (* I forgot to mention this blog post will also be one that my brother will currently resent me for).  Am I going to be type of parent that lets her child flash dance in her guests faces? Probably.

    My mom also suggested we get her really pretty underwear that she would be excited about.  So she had some delivered and we ceremoniously opened them and talked all about these magic underwear that were so beautiful.  The Munch did like the underwear, and took great joy in looking at them, folding them, and putting them on her head.  But yeah… doesn’t look like she is covering up that ass anytime soon.

    January 16, 2013 • 2 years old, Baby Body, Baby Brain, Behavior, Pee & Poop • Views: 3828