Please do not read this if you are squeamish.
I mean it.
The clue is all there in the title but I do not want to be held responsible for making you a little bit sick in your mouth, and although I imagine most parents are somewhat hardened to these things by now, it doesn’t necessarily mean you want to read about them.
If you are considering having children but have none, don’t read this. Honestly. If you have teenagers, this post may serve as a contraceptive so perhaps print it off and leave it in their bedroom.
This all started when my friend WhatsApped me to tell me that she had just spent a jolly ten minutes retrieving one of her daughter’s waist-length hairs from her son’s rectum. She said “I tried to wipe it away but it wouldn’t come so I grasped it with the baby wipe and pulled, and pulled, and pulled and eventually, out it came with a pop. It was about 25cm long with a little plug of poop on the end. It was the grimmest thing ever”.
Proof if proof were in fact needed that mums will literally do anything for their offspring, no?
Heart-warmingly, she immediately thought of me. Or more accurately, thought of my blog and suggested I should do a post about it; the grim side of parenting.
So here we are.
Personally, the holiday that we took which ended up with me standing in the shower, holding my baby to my chest whilst he vomited real, chunky adult-type sick down me will probably go down in history as my least-favourite parenting moment, followed by the flight home covered in toddler sick with no change of clothes.
Delightful (but apparently could have been worse; my friend flew 14 hours to Denver covered in shit after her daughter experienced explosive diarrhoea on take-off. Child had spare clothes, she did not. She said she felt more sorry for the stranger who had to sit next to them. He was not happy).
If you haven’t read it, you’re missing out; do go here to relive it with me.
Rather than just listing all the shit I’ve had to do (literally, figuratively, whatever) I thought I would open this one up to the floor. So here you go; the most disgusting things my friends have done in the name of parenting.
First up, poo!
It appears that every mum has a good(?!) poo story.You’ve already heard some of mine, so here are a few more to get you by…
My baby girl hadn’t pooed for ten days and someone suggested vaseline on a cotton bud to stimulate the area… I will never ever forget the resultant river of shit that just kept on coming.
I had to pull hard poo out of my daughter’s bottom when she was constipated whilst massaging her bum hole. Not something I ever expected to be doing.
During potty training my twins a few years ago I left my twins unattended and naked in the garden for a few minutes. I found them making play doh shapes with poo. They had managed to smear it on each other too, commando style. I hosed them down right there and then upon discovery. Honestly they stank for a week and I never found out whose poo it was. Or was it both?
AND THE WINNER, ladies and gents:
Poo doesn’t bother me. I get shat on daily in work anyway. (She works with animals. Not incontinent people or in some kind of specialist entertainment industry). Walking into the playroom to find small girl playing in a puddle of vomit after she ate big girl’s”cookie” (shit. She shat on the floor and let the baby eat it) then having to clean baby, floor and shitty toddler bum is probably my grimmest parenting moment to date. I feel sick just thinking about it.
Yea, so do I actually. I’m glad I asked.
Catching poo mid-air seems to be a skill that many mothers learn…
Catching the shit in the bath, mid fall, always sticks in my mind because, well, skill.
My girl is a pest in the bath, she just won’t sit down. The other night she started to do a poo so I had to catch it in my free hand to save it landing in the bath. At 33 weeks pregnant.
I caught a poop that had just flown out of a temporarily un-nappied butt. It was a pretty minging sight but did make me laugh.
And not just poo…
My eldest once threw up in a supermarket trolley and I caught it in my hand.
There are more stories of vomit…
Many more, I have some myself, but this one seemed to be a fairly common one.
My daughter projectile vomited directly into my mouth. I tasted it.
My brother-in-law used to just suck the snot out of the boys nose. With his very own mouth. It still makes me gag.
I’ve had to suck snotty coco pops out of my sons nose when tweezers weren’t reaching it (the alternative was an A&E trip at 10pm!)
Shining a torch on a child’s a-hole at midnight looking for worms! It’s when they come out apparently…
I have had a similar experience except I was attempting to catch a bloody 2mm thread worm that was wiggling in my daughter’s arse.
Pulling my son’s ball bag out of an electric toy train. I never did get to the bottom of why he was naked playing with a vibrating object on his willy.
Now, aren’t you feeling better about yourself?
Anyone for chocolate pudding?