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Oh my! My how times have changed. Long gone are the days when the mention of potty language causes hysterical laughter among the four triplets. It used to be that if someone said, dirty diaper, poop, underwear, poopy underwear, tooting, or stinky bathroom the whole gang was cracking up.
They have matured past the point of finding bathroom talk funny.
Things are slightly reversed. With this new found maturity comes an understanding of the human body, bodily functions and the wisdom that everyone poops, which eliminates the need to make fun it. However, now that they all go independently, I miss out on the talks we used to have while I waited somewhat patiently (in the foulest of smelling places)during our daily poop chats.
Believe me, I do not miss wiping asses. At all. I do not miss the micromanaging their bowel movements, but I do miss the sweet moments when we were alone, with nothing to do but talk and wait.
I get ready for work in the nicest bathroom in our house. This means that if more than two people are using other johns while I am applying mascara and eyeliner, my bathroom becomes the default, or last resort. It is one time when it is acceptable to invade my spa like oasis. Typically, my bathroom is off limits to anyone except Jeff, but in the unique moment when simultaneous pooping happens, it is the back up zone.
This is one of the few times that I get to take advantage of a captive and seated audience, so to speak. Where are they going? They are stuck talking to me. These private little conversations are the ones I miss most. No, I do not miss the stench of some kind of dead animal that has crawled out from their small asses, but I do miss the banter between one child and their talkative mother.
During the most recent incident, CJ was all mine. He was doing his business while I was selecting lipsticks and using moisturizers. I struck up a dialogue and we chatted before it became clear that I needed to evacuate, lest I barf my breakfast. I retreated to my closet to wait things out. Tick tock tick tock tick tock- it was taking forever. I was in a hurry but clearly CJ was taking his sweet time.
I shouted, "CJ hurry it up out there, I need to come into the bathroom when you are finished!" "C'mon buddy, make it snappy!" "Hey Cee-Jay, let's get the show on the road pal, Mommie has to get back in there!" After about my fourth attempt to clear him off the commode, he bellows, "Ughhhhh, Mommie, Poop does not just come out automatically, it takes time. You have to be patient and let it come out naturally. Forcing it and shouting at me does not make it happen any quicker, okay?"
Who are these kids? When did the game change? I am supposed be making them laugh by using bathroom humor- not the other way around? Where did these mature kids come from and what happened to the little people who would burst out laughing if someone said pee pee or poo poo?
Nowadays, they are making me laugh in the bathroom. Oy vey. Potty humor has taken on a whole new meaning.
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