What is it with guys and talking about poop? I realize this may be a sensitive subject for some people or just not interested. I would understand, so skip to the next post. If you can hang on, there are some “funnies” in this one.
My dad and my husband are obsessed with talking about poop and managing poop. It can be epic poop stories, jokes, cartoons or stories from other guys. That is just straight up weird!
My dad is forever telling me poop jokes and sending me poop related cartoons from the internet. What?
I know we all poop, but does it have to be discussed so frequently and in such detail?
Every time my husband “has to go” to the bathroom, he has to announce it to everyone that he is going to poop. I mean every single time. He even texts me from work when he has a “life changing” poop. Are you kidding me?
When my dad and my husband get together it is like a contest to see which has the newest and funniest poop joke or cartoon. No matter what my mother and I say, there is no stopping the boys from talking about poop at least once.
I have also noticed the prevalence in poop discussions with the boys that are friends with my daughter.
We have two boys that are our neighbors and the boys have known my daughter since birth. We spend a good amount of time with them.
One day, I was driving all three kids around and suddenly the discussion turns into a “poops and turds” conversation. The boys go into details about recent poop stories. The three of them try to “one up” each other in order to see who can come up with the most graphic and nasty poop story!
I am in the front seat trying to drive and swallow the bile that has creeped up in my throat after hearing these stories. In the back seat, the kids are laughing their nasty little butts off. Eventually, I had to intervene and call for a change of subject. Why do the kids have to start this discussion right after we have ordered food?
I have also noticed this poop obsession at the camping store! I do not care which store it is or what time of day. I walk into the store and all the men are on the toilet isle. All of them. It is as if the poop isle, as we call it, has a homing beacon that calls men to that space!
I am usually at the camping store looking at all the trinkets and things to spruce up our travel trailer. I walk down each empty isle until I get to toilet accessories. The isle looks like a men’s poop convention.
Normally, my husband will not even engage people in conversation while at other stores. However, once he hits the poop isle at the camping store, it’s like speed dating!
By the time I get to the poop isle, my husband is in deep conversation with every Tom, Dick and Harry who are also enthralled by the toilet accessories. I wish I could tell you that I am kidding. Alas, I am not.
My husband will not even stay in a bed and breakfast place. He says he does not want to have to sit at a table with “total strangers” to eat a meal. How does this differ from standing in the isle at the camping store and talking about your bodily waste? I do not recall being at any of the BNB’s eating breakfast and discussing poo.
Not only does my husband talk to perfect strangers at the camping store, he will do it while we are camping too! For those of you who camp, you know people will stroll the grounds and look at different campers. If people are at the camp site, many will stop and chat. Before the conversation ends, the guys will have some sort of comments about poop management, pumps for poo and chemicals.
We also have a rolling “poop tank.” This allows you to dump your waste water into a small tank then drive it to the dump station. This is great because you do not have to move the camper. FYI, the tank is blue and has wheels. This is the universal look for a poop tank. So, if my husband spots one, he cannot help himself but to comment on it and state that we too have one. Who cares?
To me, this is like going to someone’s house, seeing that they also have a toilet, then break out into discussion about how it functions. Who does that?
To further pick on my hubby, he also has to announce when he needs to “go” while at the campsite. Most places we camp have primitive bathrooms with showers. My husband likes to nickname things, so he calls this the “shit house.” Where does he come up with these nicknames?
We started camping with our daughter when she was two. As she got older and better able to talk, she understood what daddy was saying.
So, a few years later, my daughter and I were headed to the showers. I told her to tell daddy we were leaving. I watched my innocent little cherub march up to her dad and announce, “daddy, mommy and I are headed to the shit house.” I saw my husband’s face change to a look of confusion, then horror. I just turned away and laughed!
Subsequently, he decided we needed to change what we called the camp restrooms. He did not start calling them restrooms or bath houses. Too easy and normal. Upon much discussion, my husband renamed them “the poop hut.”
To this day, my daughter and husband will announce that they are headed to the poop hut! Neither one can say it without a sly giggle. It is their own daddy and daughter private joke. It warms my heart when I see this happen. I hope my baby girl will remember these times when she gets mad at us as a teenager!
Now to pick on my dad. My dad is an amazing person. He has a degree in aeronautical engineering, a law degree, has traveled a good part of the world, and has been to Antarctica and Russia. Sounds cultured and sophisticated, right? However, you tell him one good poop joke and he turns into Jed Clampett from the Beverly Hillbillies!
My dad also has a bidet with an automatic rising toilet seat. For those of us less cultured, a bidet is a hose or spray that is inside the toilet bowl. It sprays your butt clean after using the toilet. I know, ohhhh. His toilet also has a sensor. Each time you get close to the toilet, the lid automatically raises. Again, I know.
I remember when my daughter was young, and we would visit my parent’s home. They had a beautiful home with lots of things for my daughter to play with when there. She even had her own room!
After dad showed her the “fancy toilet”, that was the first place she headed for when we hit the door!
She would walk back and forth to watch the toilet seat go up and down. Repeatedly! After each cycle, she would loudly giggle her head off and do the “toddler dance.” (The toddler dance is when kids throw their clenched fists to their mouth and their feet look like they are marching while staying in the same spot.) Meanwhile, a very happy grandpa is standing off to the side watching this go down and giggling like a second grader.
After she got over her initial excitement with the toilet, she decided that she needed to “talk” to the toilet. She would step a few feet away, then walk towards the toilet to activate the seat. Just before the sensor went off, she would flail her hands in huge gestures and scream, “abracadabra!” The seat would go up and the “toddler dance” would commence. This could go on for at least 15 minutes.
My dad would watch her as long as it took for her to get tired of the game. He would even join in the fun using his own magical words. Dad loves magic and encourages my daughter to learn tricks.
Side note. Although we are standing in a bathroom and playing with a toilet, it is one of my fondest memories! Why, you ask?
From my vantage point, I saw MY girl with an innocent, unabashed smile on her face and her joy filled the room. I saw a man I have loved and admired my whole life help my daughter to get so excited that she did the “toddler dance.” I saw my dad’s eyes twinkle with joy and a smile so broad across his face. Who could not want this?
Ok, I know it was a toilet, but I would not have changed a thing. Thanks dad. You were always a great dad and now you are a great “gwanpa.”
Although I am not as interested in poop as some of my family seems to be, some of my best memories include poop!
My point is simple. Don’t miss those times to share in your children’s joy. Love the “gwandpa” moments. Watch your children giggle and have inside jokes with their dads.
Watch a mom, with tears of joy, streaming down her face at all the memories she was privileged to share with these crazy people. Even if it includes poop.