Did You Have Yours Today?

**** Disclaimer: This post will not be pretty, pleasant, nor enjoyable. If you're easily put off, grossed out, or offended, read no further....you have been duly warned ****

I am not sure how the whole thing started except that it did. Quickly. And it disintegrated even more quickly. Christmas day had been pretty pleasant. Hubby and me had prepared delicious pork tenderloin, garlic/Parmesan mashed potatoes, peas with pearl onions, and carrots glazed with lime juice, brown sugar, and chili oil. Fantastic. We loaded up the Sorento with the goods and both of hubby's brothers and headed to their mommy and daddy's house. It's much easier to take it there than to drag them out and about with all of their ills and such. Somewhere toward the end of the meal, the shit hit the fan. Now, for years this has been an unusual family in that they have made some sort of an issue out of bowel movements. (Remember, you were warned earlier.) BMs are discussed, at length (no pun intended). Did you have one? Does the dog need to have one? Can you pick up some prune juice for daddy? It's a bit off putting if you're not prepared for it. I typically stare into oblivion and wait/pray/hope for the moment to pass (no pun). And last night was no different. One of S's older brothers started by waving his hands in the air and making the statement, "Okay, I just have to get this all out in the open." Apparently, as a child he was traumatized by not being able to take BMs anyplace except at home. Some kids are just that way. (I, too, remember not wanting to show my little pee-pee off in the boy's bathroom at Taft Elementary School.....but I got over that quickly....but that's a whole other story.) He was recalling the moment when, as a child, he had his Ah-Ha moment just like Oprah promises. It was at Manuel's Restaurant in Old Town San Diego. Something about going to the men's room and, finally, being able to go poo-poo by himself without being at home. Wow, what a breakthrough. Apparently, Nana (grandma) used to make little T tell her what kind of BM he had in the bathroom: Was it a "plop, wipe, flush" or was it a "few little marbles." "Did you go chair-chair?" Then we digressed even further back to when our kindergarten teachers would want to know if you'd been going #1 or #2 when you left the classroom. They like to keep track of these things for some ungodly reason. I supposed to tell mom and dad if you've gone poo-poo or pee-pee during the day. As if there was some sort of a list being kept. My god, these people were messed up. And, it's not over yet. Now we have to talk about the dog who doesn't get walked outside like he should. Something about a lousy poor excuse of "it's raining" or "too cold" or something unreasonable. So, it's always an issue of whether the dog has gone, not gone, needs to go, or should go. Oh, and of course, we have to start the joking about "cut the crap" and "no shit" and other puns. It was lovely. It really was. It was a beautiful way to end a perfect holiday meal with family. Discussing shit. Dumps. Length. And the proper reporting procedure. I'm hoping for a breakthrough this next year. In fact, I've demanded it. I've given everybody until the 31st to graduate to the next higher level of discussion and communication. Shit Reporting 102 instead of 101. Whoo-wee. I can hardly wait to see what we'll come up with for 2007. Hope your holiday was a happy as ours.