If you’re looking for funny poop stories, do I ever have a treat for you.
In this blog post, I’m sharing two horrific poop tales I’ve lived to tell. Let’s make a game out of it, shall we?
I don’t know what it is, but ever since giving birth to two children, it’s like my butt will not hold in poop for longer than 5 minutes if I have to go.
In the last two months, I have found myself very vulnerable in public when “the cramps” set in.
Since I have no dignity left, I thought we could play a sick game where I tell you my two diarrhea stories, and you tell me which one you would choose if you were forced to. What do ya say?!
Story #1 – Toddler Induced Diarrhea Torture
It was a Saturday morning and we were at a hip little brewery restaurant for a friend’s birthday party. Everything was going amazing…that should’ve been my first clue that things were going to go downhill; going out with both boys is never amazing.
The party was dragging on a bit (for little kid standards) and the boys were getting antsy. Dacky was twirling around in the middle of the floor, watching his balloon that our server had given him and not giving a general shit that he was in everyone’s way.
I was attempting to pull him in by the arm after he had ignored my requests to come back closer to me, and he would just go limp while laughing as I was forced to swing him around to stand him back up.
Then Piggie asked to use the bathroom and I offered to take him so that Luis could talk to his friend. He started doing the poop dance and said he needed to go now.
We bolted towards the restrooms and I see a line coming out of the women’s side. Damn it. I stood there for a second, contemplating what to do, and while I did that about 4 more women got in line.
He was going to have to use the men’s restroom, so I sent him in and thought maybe he could do his business while I stood at the door.
Until I quickly remembered “No, he cannot get on the toilet without a step stool, nor wipe himself” and he was about to crap his pants, so I lurched into the bathroom just in time to see a man quickly zip his pants up…OH MY GOD!! The men’s restroom is so vile and vulgar; no privacy and urinals just out in the open. Gross!
I hurriedly shuffled Piggie into the only stall there was and carefully sat him on the toilet.
Afterwards as I was wiping him, I was noticing all the grime around us and realized the fact that this was the only toilet for pooping in. The toilet handle looked like it had 20 layers of disease on it.
I stood Piggie up and he went to flush the toilet, to which I hiss-screamed “NOOO!! That thing is NASTY!” and I quickly flushed it with my foot.
That was the beginning of the end.
He FLIPPED and started jumping up and down, saying that I flushed his poop and that he was supposed to do that. To which I responded “Oh hell no you weren’t, do you know how dirty that handle was?!” (I was hoping my blunt response tactic would make him see there was no debate to have…it didn’t work).
I forced him out the bathroom and I walked over to the women’s side so I could wash my hands. All of these college girls were standing there while Piggie followed me in, beating my leg and scream crying that he hated me. All the stares like they’d never seen a small child freak out before. (Just wait, bishes, your turn is coming).
I did a fast-walk over to my husband and told him we had to go. Dacky was still twirling in circles while servers with trays full of food attempted to walk past him and Piggie was now on the floor, continuing his haterade-on-mommy tantrum.
We got our car from the mandatory valet parking and I notice Dacky had taken a dump. Are you kidding me right now, life? So in the freakin’ valet line, I popped my SUV’s trunk, laid Dacky in the back and changed his poop diaper, using the last wipe we had <— plot hint.
My husband had driven his car because afterwards he was leaving with his dad and brother to go on a weekend hiking trip up north. We kissed goodbye and I pulled out onto the road, thankful for the break in chaos.
Except it was at that moment that I felt my stomach gurgle. I tried to breathe deeply and calm my frazzled nerves. All of the sudden I was in like 5 lanes of traffic to choose from and my GPS told me to turn left, so I made a quick dart over into the left turning lane.
I noticed a Chick-Fil-A on the opposite corner of traffic and took a mental note of a restroom location. (My soul knew).
Piggie started whining very loudly that he wanted Papá and meanwhile Dacky sounded like a broken record, asking over and over again “Papá go mountains? Papá go mountaaains?”
I felt “the drop” right then and knew I had to get to a bathroom ASAP. As I was turning left, I called Luis and said “I need your help, right now.” He replied “I need help too, I have a flat tire.” Me, “Good luck with that, I have to go.” Hung up.
I dangerously flipped a bitch and went through the intersection again while begging the boys to be quiet because Mommy was about to lose her shit, literally.
I pull into a space at Chick-Fil-A and yanked the boys out of the car. Dacky had, as usual, removed his socks and shoes and since there was no time for that, I decided to just carry him in shoeless.
Piggie was saying he wanted Papá and wasn’t going to come with me. I could feel my butt quivering under the pressure and knew my time was limited. I told Piggie that if he didn’t come with me right now…he was going to get ran over by cars. Don’t judge me.
Both boys were distracted by the play area once we got inside. I tried to play it cool like I wasn’t in a sweaty diarrhea rush and calmly walked towards the bathroom.
Piggie stopped and loudly announced he wanted to play in the play area. Through gritted teeth, I quietly but menacingly told him he had better come with Mommy. He looked at me like I was psycho but came with me into the bathroom.
I went into the huge stall and sat my enormous two year old on the changing table, which could barely hold his weight but it was going to have to do since he was shoeless. I ran over to the toilet and finally felt sweet release.
I went to grab the wipies out of my purse and then remembered I’d used the last one on Dacky. I went next for the toilet paper and it was empty. No, no, no…I composed myself and calmly told Piggie to go into the next stall and bring Mommy a bunch of toilet paper.
He slowly walked over there and fiddled around and then finally brought me back one square of shitty, thin, public toilet paper. My soul actually hurt at this point.
I did what I could with that one square, which wasn’t much, letmetellyou. I pulled up my pants and with them still unbuttoned barged into the stall next to me, looked around and saw a cabinet…opened it and pulled out an entire huge roll of toilet paper. I ushered Piggie back into our stall where I was able to properly finishing wiping.
Pros – I was able to use a restroom
Cons – had to deal with two toddlers, lots of traffic, no toilet paper.
Story #2 – Mexican Corral Degradation
That story was just a warm up for what was to come. I was down in Mexico last month visiting my husband’s family. His home state is tropical, humid, and very alive – insects, iguanas, lots of nature spilling over into daily living, etc.
Mexicans love their food, and they love for you to eat it. I love to eat it too, but after several heavy meals mixed with the humid, hot weather, my stomach was feeling weak almost daily.
Luis told me one morning we were going to go up to a restaurant in the mountains, and as I got in the front seat of our car, I felt a slight gurgle go across my lower stomach.
Nothing too threatening, but it wasn’t like I had a choice to do anything about it; several of Luis’ family members were already getting in their cars and leaving to go up to the restaurant as well and we had to follow them.
The road was twisty and had random speed humps, which my husband would come up upon too fast and would then have to hit the brake before driving over them. I felt my stomach getting crazier and I started cursing my life under my breath. And then…the butt-squeezing induced drop.
“Luis, oh my god, pull the **** over, I can’t!”
He looked at me as if I couldn’t possibly be serious.
“PULL THE **** OVER!! I’M GOING TO SHIT MY PANTS!!! What do I do?! Oh my ******* god, where do I go?!” Luis tried not to laugh and told me I would have to climb up the side of the mountain and crap behind a tree. In the “corral” as he called it in his annoying Spanish accent.
Is this my life right now? Like really?
Luckily Luis’ family was ahead of us so they didn’t notice right away that we had pulled over and they kept driving. I grabbed some wipies from my purse and got out of the car.
I took my first step into the mountain terrain and my foot sunk into about a foot of leaves. I saw some rocks and jumped to the first one and then quickly jumped to the next one, and realized I shit myself a little bit in the process…I would’ve cried right then but I knew I had zero minutes to get my pants off before the rest would be violently exploding out.
I took several more big leaps up the mountain to a tree, and could hear things running around in the leaves. I immediately squatted down and crapped behind the tree.
I noticed my excellent squatting position, which I’d never mastered before on previous camping trips. Apparently when you’re forced to become one with nature in less than a minute, your caveman instincts kick in.
I went to grab my wipies and noticed a yellow spider walking across them. I didn’t even care and just threw it off. I was attempting to tell myself that none of this had been that bad since none of Luis’ family knew, and then right before I could pull my pants up, a car drove up and parked a few car lengths behind Luis….they had a perfect view of me. I think a part of me died in that moment that will never be salvaged.
I quickly hovered back down behind the sparse shrubbery, pants still down, dignity totally gone. My bright, neon pink blouse was not helping my case.
I grabbed some thorny weeds and tried pulling them in front of me. It looked exactly like Luis’ cousins car and all I could think was that his family was looking at me naked and squatting, and were going to wait until I stood up to leave. I closed my eyes and wondered how this could possibly be happening.
After what felt like an eternity, the car left and I quickly stood up and pulled my pants almost all the way back on to avoid coming in direct contact with my poop underwear because there was NO WAY IN HELL I was going to stand any longer in the spidery leaves and risk someone else coming along.
I hopped back down the mountain, my feet becoming entangled in thorny, rope-like plants while animal life scattered around me. I took a breather on the last rock, bent over with my hands on my knees and wept a little bit. First world problems, man.
I looked up to see my mother-in-law and her sister, niece and nephew all pull up to see why we had stopped following them. I immediately stood up and did a weird wave-and-nod like I was the president before jumping back into our car. I saw Luis’ nephew smiling from his window at me as they pulled away. They knew.
Luis was trying hard not to laugh, waiting to see my reaction and just staring at me. Of course I cursed Mexico and said I couldn’t wait to go home.
Me: “You didn’t even help me! You could’ve HELPED ME at least!”
Him: “What did you want me to do, open my mouth and let you shit in it just because I’m Mexican and you’re American?!”
Har har, Luis. I told him not to look because I had poop underwear I had to take off. “Did you seriously shit your pants?” he asked me. You don’t lose all dignity until you have to change poop underwear in front of your husband, in a car, in broad daylight.
Once we got up the mountain and to the restaurant, I could see his mom come up on his side of the car and whisper to him while smiling. She then came around on my side, totally being fake and concerned for my wellbeing. NEWSFLASH Mother-In-Law, people can see through WINDOWS!
Pros – I had wipies with yellow spiders on them
Cons – I had to crap in the “corral”, had an audience, lost all dignity
So, before you never talk to me again, which experience would you choose if you had to and why?! Discuss.
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