Everybody does it...

Many moons ago, the company I worked for sent me to a public speaking workshop to prepare me to present an education program to children in grades three to six. I learned some great techniques as well as many common pitfalls of public speaking. I felt prepared for my first experience presenting to my daughter's grade three class. Her sweet face was front and centre. I smiled away my sweaty palms and tried not to appear too nervous. When my daughter got home from school that day I asked her how she thought I did. She said, "I could tell you were nervous Mom - next time, just look at everyone and remember - they have to poop too." I was taken aback by this gem of wisdom, this simple nugget of truth from one so young. This common bodily function breaks down barriers of class and intellect and seats us all on the same throne. It was great advice and I've carried it with me ever since. Whenever I'm in a situation where I feel my confidence waning I just remember, everybody does it.

My Mom knew it was important that 'everybody did it' and she seemed rather fixated on the regularity of her family members.  Her grandchildren will remember being asked almost daily, "Did you have a BM today?" If they hadn't she would give them one of her homemade 'Gran-muffins' or hand them a few prunes.

Mom revered the humble prune. She even had a prune keyfob and a prune fridge magnet that said, "Keeps Canada Moving!". On car trips or in a doctor's office tucked into the dark corners of her purse she always had a bag of prunes. She never left home without them. Mom preferred prunes with their pits intact. After she devoured the flesh the pit kept her mouth busy for hours. In later years, she stewed her own prunes and enjoyed them as a bedtime snack. I can't see a prune and not think fondly of my Mom.

Eventually, the tables turned and Mom's regularity became as important to me as ours once was to her. I guess this is a natural part of caregiving. As her infirmity increased her motility decreased. Sometimes it seemed nothing short of dynamite would do the trick. So at breakfast I would concoct a smoothie of bran softened in hot water, mixed with cream of wheat, milk and a little brown sugar so it was edible through a straw. Finally, when success was achieved, we celebrated and I would sing her this little song: 

Ta ra ra BOOM-de-ay!
I had a poop today,
I didn't yesterday,
I want to shout HOORAY!

Ta ra ra BOOM-de-ay!
I had a poop today,
Good-bye old poop I say,
You swirl and swim away.

She would laugh and clap as I danced and gyrated my way through this little diddy. When she caught her breath she would beg me to, "Write that down!". So I wrote it in the pages of the journals I kept for her. It appears sporadically throughout each volume and whenever I see it, I can't help but smile.

Mom would be pleased to see that I too, keep a bag of prunes. I prefer the unpitted variety. And every morning I have a helping of bran with fruit, half a teaspoon of cinnamon, some ground flax and chia seeds, mixed with half a cup of hot milk. My husband calls it 'swill'. But I don't care - it keeps Canada moving.

Ta ra ra BOOM-de-ay!

The rest is pixie dust...