All About Poop!

If you have followed any of my blogs, you know that I am inconsistent at best.  Well, android may have fixed my problem.  You see, I now have this little app on my phone that will allow me to create, edit, and publish blog posts from my phone.  How does this really help me?  I'm glad you asked.  It seems to me that the reason I have such a hard time keeping up on my blogs is the fact that I get very little time in front of my computer these days.  What I really need is a way to take advantage of those moments of the day when I am otherwise occupied, but free to think creatively, and type on my phone.  If you are not picking up my reference, let me put it plainly.  Now I can blog when I...  well, read the title.

This new breakthrough in technology seems like the perfect time to tell a couple Samuel stories.  You see, Samuel is fascinated with poop.  This not only means that we get to listen to top 40 hits like, Happy Poop Day To You and P-P-P-Pooper Face, but it also means that we get some pretty crazy stories to tell.  Samuel is almost nine.  He will doubtless someday be embarrassed by this blog, at least that is my prayer.  The alternative is too scary to contemplate.

Samuel poop story #1

It's Samuel's forth birthday and two teenage girls that were a very big part of our family at the time took him out for his birthday.  They took him to the mall and then to a fast food joint for some b-day grub.  After dinner, Samuel's healthy digestive system demanded a prolonged trip to the restroom.  The two girls, Samuel's chaperones, took him into the restroom, but allowed him to go into the stall by himself.  Samuel commenced his business in a rather loud and energetic way.  He punctuated his activities with many grunts and groans and a few whoops.  Needless to say, the girls were giggling.  Admit it, you would giggle too.  Standing with a friend in a public bathroom, listening to a four-year-old try move his bowels while while sounding like he's 78 and constipated.  Well, the giggles gave way to an explosion of laughter when the pre-K voice in the stall yells in a grunting voice, "Come on.  GET OUT OF ME!" 

Samuel poop story #2

We are at a party at our church.  There are people milling about, eating, drinking, and making conversation.  A friend comes up to me and says, "Some day you'll have to explain to me your theory on restroom hygiene for your children." 

Well I'm hooked.  "What do you mean," I ask.

"Well," he begins, "I'm in the restroom washing my hands."  He mimes washing his hands as he relays the story.  "I notice that there is a very small pair of feet in the first stall, facing forward.  Then, while I am looking at them, a head shows up right next to the feet.  Chris," he continues, "I don't even know how he could have bent over far enough for his head to show up in that position."  He looks at his own feet as if to demonstrate the distance either of our heads would have to travel to lie beside our feet.  I followed his gaze, also impressed by the reality.  Kevin continued,  "His head turned toward me, and I kid you not, it seemed detached.  His eyes wandered and found me.  'My mom and dad told me that I shouldn't wipe my bottom, but I'm going to wipe it anyway.'"  Well by now, Kevin is laughing pretty hard.  "He was as serious as can be.  He even knodded when he said it which was almost dizzying to watch with his head being upside down between his feet like that.  I told him that I thought it was a good idea, he knodded again, his head vanished from under the stall, and I head him start pulling paper from the dispenser."  My friend and I had a good laugh. 

For the record, Samuel was at an age when either Esther, myself, or an older sibling accompanied him to the bathroom to do the paperwork.  He was anxious to take over this job for himself, but was not yet thorough enough for dad's standards and was therefore told that he was "not too wipe his OWN bottom."  He told my friend that he was not to wipe his bottom.  It was a simple and understandable mistake, and in Samuel's defense, it was a party where rounding up an older sibling could be remarkably difficult.

Samuel Poop Story #3

It's evening at Casa De Heintzelman, and everyone is inside and accounted for, or so we thought.  Esther hears the front door shut and assumes someone has stopped by to pay us a visit.  Friends don't knock at Casa De Heintzelman.  She goes to the door to welcome whoever has entered and passes Samuel who by all appearances has just come inside.  "Where were you?"  Esther asks.

"On the porch."  My three-year-old son replies.

"Why were you on the porch?" The mom questions.

Samuel looks up at his mother with a face that screams, "duh, what else would I be doing?" And he says, "Pooping."  He shakes his little head as if to add, "grown-ups?  You have to spell everything out for them," and he walked off.

Esther was stunned to silence. She opened the door, and sure enough, there was a pile of fresh scat on the porch.  No paperwork was filed on the event, just the poo.  We now hire a pet cleanup service to maintain our yard and porch.

Samuel Poop Story #4

I feel obligated to offer a warning for this story.  It may not be acceptable to children or those with a weak constitution.  Please feel free to exit the blog at any time.

Samuel doesn't like to shut the door while he is on the toilet.  I am afraid he gets this from me.  We have all grown used to seeing Samuel sitting on the toilet, but nothing could have prepared me for what I saw this day.  My only true regret is that I can not unsee it.

I'm walking down the hall towards my room.  I will have to pass the hallway bathroom.  As I pass said bathroom, I look in and see Samuel pooping.  This is not a surprise for as I said, Samuel doesnt often shut the door.  As I looked away and began to turn towards my bedroom, the image that I just saw began to register.  I stopped, stepped back, and looked back into the hall bath.  Samuel was standing on the toilet seat hunkered down with his arms wrappd around his knees.  His head was tucked down between these knees until I said,"what are you doing?"

So picture it.  Young boy has his feet on the toilet seat, his rear-end hovering just above the plane of the toilet seat, his head tucked down as though he's looking into the toilet.

"What are you doing?" I ask incredulously. 

"Pooping,"  Samuel answers simply as his head pops up and turns towards me.  "I like being able to see it fall in the water." 

I turned and walked away.  I know, I know, I should have given a lecture or something.  I should have dug into his phyche to try and understand where this fascination comes from.  But I couldn't.  I was truly speechless.  If you know me, you know how rare this really is.

Samuel is into poop.  I'm pooping while finishing this Blog.  You thinking what I'm thinking?  Yeah, he gets it from his mom.

Sibling Rivalries

When you have a dozen kids, some sibling rivalries are inevitable.  Actually, when you have two kids, sibling rivalries are inevitable.  The reason for this is simple; children are evil little beasts.  Don't get me wrong, I love them, but that doesn't mean that they aren't evil.  In fact, the way that such perfect evil shows up in such an adorable little package that steals your heart before you even have a chance to defend yourself, only reinforces just how wicked these little beasts are.  Only pure sin could come wrapped in such an innocent looking package.  Now, before you leave nasty comments, click the back button, and decide you'll never read another of my blogs, please allow me to explain.

A couple mornings ago Esther and I were in the bathroom getting ready for the day.  Eve and Isaac were also sharing this space with us.  Eve sat down whatever object had been occupying her time and Isaac quickly snatched it up to have some of his time occupied.  If you have ever been around midget demons, you know what happened next.  Upon seeing Isaac with the toy that had so recently been in her possession, well she suddenly found a whole in her heart that could only be filled with the discarded toy that her inconsiderate, hovering, vulture of a brother had so recently and rudely stolen.  Well believe me, she had no intention of letting this atrocity stand.  She would see justice done.  She marched across the bathroom floor and recovered the recently abandoned toy from the younger hands of her tyrannical brother.  As parents who are committed to teaching good moral character to our children, we made Eve return the toy to her younger sibling and commenced the farcical, empty, ritual of SHARING.  We made Eve let Isaac play with the toy for his "turn" after which she could have her "turn".  We institute this instructional activity so that Eve will learn to not be so consumed with things and rather to value people.  Eve proved an ideal student.  She allowed Isaac to play with her beloved toy and she responded by following him around, hovering an inch over his head, watching every move her younger brother made, and praying with all the fervency of her two-year-old heart that he would drop the toy so she can "legally" claim it.  Our educational plans were were working perfectly.

God seems to favor the prayers of fervent two-year-olds because within a minute or so, Isaac dropped the toy.  Eve reclaimed the discarded treasure faster than her teenage brothers can inhale restaurant leftovers.  Since she had shown such incredible patience and had resisted the temptation to use the force that was available to her due to her advanced age and development over Isaac, to simply take the toy, we allowed her to have her "turn".  Isaac was not cool with this plan.  He reached for it with complete assurance that she would return it, and she didn't.  He looked confused but apparently decided it was a mishap on Eve's part and tried again.  Again Eve would not relent.  He practically dove for it.  No dice.  This is when it happened.  From my vantage, I could see rage, yes rage and even rage's sister fury, climb into his face and his wee little fists balled up and started into a full windmill of punches.  His fists turned to claws with which he attempted to pull Eve down to his level.  He had forgotten the toy and simply wanted to punish the taker of the toy.

Within seconds Isaac was distracted from the toy and he and Eve were playing happily and no blood was shed, but I was forced to contemplate the outburst.  Where did Isaac learn that, his Mother?  Not me.  To the best of my knowledge, no one has ever attacked Isaac to steal something from him.  He's only one, so I don't think he picked it up from watching violent cartoons or playing violent video games.  Truth be told, I don't think he learn it at all.  That's just who he is.  That's just who we all are.  Isn't it funny we don't have to teach kids to be selfish.  We don't have to teach them to lie.  We don't have to teach them to take what's not theirs.  Those things come natural.  Goodness has to be taught.  Kindness has to be nurtured.  Generosity must be fostered.  When I watched Isaac try to attack his sister to get what he wanted, I saw me.  I saw all the desires that I have that I wrestle with every day; desires to retaliate, to take what's not mine, to be remarkably selfish.  I'm broken.  We are all born broken.  Can we really point fingers at others for their brokenness?  If I'm willing to wrestle my inner demons and to overlook and work with the evil midget demon that lives inside my adorable little son, can I do the same for others?  Good question.