Not So Good Potty Humor

My apologies ahead of time, but I feel the need to put discretion on this post. It is not for the easily grossed out, but alas our lives are filled with lots of it, especially if you are the primary caregiver to anyone (even CATS).
I'm talking about poo.

Okay, so poor, poor Will. He is new to asthma medication and with any green popping out of the earth a little cough turns quickly into panic breaths. We visit the pediatrician who recommends an allergist, but sends us home with an inhaler and oral steroid. No fun. Anyway, Will starts his medication that day and we wait it out: no recess, no outside time, no running, so sad. Amazingly, after the first breathing treatment his cough has lessened. We respond well to all the medicine we're prescribed (Way to go, Doc!) and he's good to go (almost). However, a few days into this he comes rushing out of the bathroom, stark naked.
"Mom, I have a little problem."

"I would think so, your missing your clothes."

"In the bathroom...I tried to wipe my hiney and clean it up, please don't be mad at me."
This sadly, is not a good sign. Will has been beat down by his rather cruel mom when it comes to picking up after oneself, even if this means one most learn to clean the rim of the potty if one chooses to pee standing up. In other words, something must be out of the range of the typical bathroom experience. So we walk into the bathroom together.

Its disastrous, its disgusting, its vial: its poo, leading to the toilet, down back of the pants, covering the seat. He's tried to clean it up with little bits of toilet paper peering out of the bowl waiting to be flushed. And Will, so defeated, starts to cry.

"Its okay, Bear, you didn't mean it. Your stomach hurts that's all." So we get him in the shower and rinse he rinses off (with bleach?) and I disinfect the floor, toilet, counter (house?). It breaks my heart when I see him like this, especially when he is afraid to tell me.

We had a little difficulty for a few days there after. Mostly, we tried to stay as close to the house as possible, even the mailbox was just a little out of reach. When the weekend came, Will was a little better, so it seemed.

I headed to the gym, unaccompanied, to meet Tracy and check out what Spinning was all about. Exhausted (who knew a bike going know where could be so difficult?) I returned to a napping household except for Will who was playing on Disney.com. He gave me a quick kiss and resumed play. I sat at the kitchen table with a monster sized bowl of cereal. Hello, I just burned 600+ calories.
Spoonfuls later Will calls "MMMOOOOOMMMM!"

I know what this means: bathroom duty. I put up my bowl and head to the room of death (smells). Meanwhile, my slumbering husband awakes and meets me in the bathroom, where he groggily asks "Boy, did you shit your pants?"
Yes, there are explicatives used, and yes, this was part of my husband I take for better or worse, because as intelligent as he is his words of expression are rather limited.
A little while later, I wake up from my nap. Will runs up to me, from the bathroom no less. Excitedly he says, "Mom, I didn't shoot my pants."

Oh, little Bear you make me laugh so hard I have to share this with the world!

Meanwhile these days I've learned that it wasn't quite the medicine that was creating such a disturbance for my young son - more like a virus. And while I lay on the couch in fear, I realize that it's not that funny - shooting in the pants and all, especially since you are afflicted with it for a little longer than most and Spring Break has started mostly in the bathroom. My trip to Mom and Dad's (my favorite vacation spot) is gone; so long plans of resting peacefully pool side with book in hand. Hope Will's having a good time - he can now sit comfortably in the car for the 5 hours, me, not so much.