15 January, 2017

Tangy Butt Nuts and other pieces of sh#*.

My life now is extremely demanding.  Most days I am exhausted.  Emotionally, mentally and physically, but mostly emotionally.  And then there’s all the shit.  Literally, I mean shit.  The (usually) brown substance that emerges from the bowels of sweet toddlers; beautiful –full of shit- toddlers.  It’s all the time,  “Mommy, Likha is stinky”….”Mommy, Somnang pooped on the floor.” Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, poop, poop, poop.


We have 3 little ones who are not able to control their posterior and out from those sweet little cheeks come the rectum warriors.  I (along with Sophia) have to deal with it all day every day.  Body boulders in the morning, sewer serpents in the afternoon, fudge babies at dusk and tushy tots before bed.  Our toddling poopers have a sense of humor as well.  It seems they hold it in until just when I sit down to eat.  Absolutely nothing doing 30 minutes before or after, no, there’s something symbolically synonymous about my butt finding the comfort of the kitchen chair and their butt exuding fanny fudge.

It's not just the ones in diapers, though.  Take today for example, I had to help another small child release his stinkers into the toilet.  And when it was about to happen, it's not like the child sends me a memo ahead of time, I sprinted into the nearest bathroom with the child hanging mid-air arms length away and just made it in time.  A big sigh of relief, but then I glance down and notice my skirt had graced the calm vortex of the diaper soaker, the crapsters dungeon, a place where no woman's clothing should ever ever touch down.

I now have worn shit.




It has gotten so bad that I have taken to paying a child to change a diaper.  In a country where the poorest of the poor make less than $1.00 a day, I will pay up to .75 cents (depending on the stench) for someone, ANYONE to get rid of the lovely lumps which having traveled so far and finally liberated themselves from the confines of a little colon, have emerged and begun to settle into their new padded home.

“It can’t be that bad” some of you will say.  “You could not be more wrong”, say I.   “It really doesn’t affect your life and the lives around you” others will say.  “I am willing to bet a days worth of smelly pebbles that you could not be more wrong” said the others around me.  There is now a fine of 500 Khmer Riel (12 and a half cents) that I must pay for every time I bring up anything remotely sounding like poop.  One thousand riel (.25 cents) if it’s a blatant description of a screaming mimi.  I have lost so much money, I no longer count.  Sophia has lost her fair share, but I’m definitely in the lead.  Some meals I find myself unable to talk for fear of spilling the beans (so to speak).

You can ask Josh, our regular weekend volunteer.  One day I butt (no pun intended) called him.  As he responded with “are you there?”, “hello”, he then heard kids at play and then loud and clear, my voice talking about someone’s dumper crying brown tears and realized the call was not meant for him and he quietly hung up.  When I noticed I had inadvertently called him and the call had lasted 23 seconds, I just sighed knowing he had overhead bits of about how we could convert a waterbottle into a portable toilet for Somnang (our infamous anywhere-pooper). I promise, Josh, we were joking!


You think this little patootie is cute…come walk a mile in my shoes, friend, a mile in my shoes.



5 comments:

Josh Lowry said...

I read this while eating a late dinner. The fine still counts, right? I think you owe me at least $10.

Melinda said...

Dear Josh, I'll pay you in freshy drinks just as soon as you change just one diaper! And I get to choose the kid.

Josh Lowry said...

Noooooooo. No no no. NO.

I'm still scarred from that one eye contact incident. No amount of Freshy in the world would tempt me :p

Jaime Gill said...

Hahahaha, I loved reading this. I find all the pooping quite hilarious but I don't have to clean it and I get to go home to lovely clean pristine (ha!) Phnom Penh at the weekend. I like Vandys practical approach. When Somnang did a giant streak of orange diarrhoea on the ramp outside the meditation room (timed just as all the other kids were eating of course) I had a brief panic. I couldn't see you or anyone else and thought I would have to do the cleaning. But then Vandy turned up with a hose and Silkwooded him clean, followed by the steps. My respect for Vandy went up another notch. I have a photo but someone might be eating lunch somewhere... (this is Jaime in case my name doesn't pop up)

Melinda said...

YOur name did pop up, Jaime, but even it if don't I really don't think anyone else would have been able to replicate your story.

Oh and I am having T-Shirts made that say: "What happens at Wat Opot, stays at Wat Opot" what do you think?