'HELP! I POO MY PANTS'

If you’ve read my earlier post, you will know that in 2014 I decided to write a book for older children who soil, as the only books on the market for kids who had poo accidents were picture books for very young children.  In 2016, following requests from some parents, I reissued these books in gender specific editions called A Boy Like You and A Girl Like You.  They were very successful and have helped many children with encopresis to understand that they are not alone with their problems and that they can, with help, overcome them.  Many parents have also found these books useful in understanding encopresis from a child’s point of view, and helping to start a conversation with their child about their soiling problems.  These books are still available and are recommended for children aged 8 to 12 years.  You can find out more about them by clicking here to read the relevant post.

A new book designed to encourage
younger children to use the toilet
instead of withholding their poo.

In 2020 I decided that there was still a gap that needed to be bridged between the picture books that were available and my books for older children.  I decided therefore to write a new book for younger children who soiled their pants.  This book would have shorter chapters and a simpler storyline than my existing book.  Once again there would be separate editions for boys and girls, as I am now convinced that for an issue as personal as toilet problems, most kids would rather read a book in which the child who shared their problem was also the same sex as themselves.  The title of this book would be Help! I Poo My Pants, it would be designed for children aged 5 to 8 years and the lead character would be 7 years old.

This set of books places a greater emphasis on discouraging the reader from withholding their poo, a major cause of soiling, and encouraging them to go to the toilet instead, including when they are at school or away from home.  The lead character – I shall use Amelia from the Girl version of the book for convenience – frequently withholds her poo when she doesn’t want to stop playing, and feels totally unable to poo in the school toilets, or the toilets at other people’s homes as well as public toilets. 

This, of course, means that Amelia often poos her pants, which she finds very embarrassing and upsetting, especially when it happens at school or in public.  She also wets herself occasionally, when the poo she has withheld in her body presses on her bladder.  She is unable to change herself when she is messy and is reliant on an adult to do it for her.  She finds it particularly humiliating when she has to be cleaned up in public toilets or baby changing rooms, or when she has to wait in the school corridor for her mother to come to change her pull-up, which her teacher insists that she wears at school.

Can Toby, the hero of the Boy
version of the book, find the courage
to go to the toilet every time he
needs to poo, even at school? 

Although the situations are largely invented, the emotional experiences of Amelia mostly mirror my own feelings of being this age, when I was frequently soiling myself and felt very unhappy about my toilet problems.  Like me, Amelia has to learn that she must always go to the toilet when she needs to poo, including when she is on a day out or at school.  She also starts to tell someone when she does have an accident and needs changing, something which I never did myself.

I also designed a series of ‘posters’ to go between some of the chapters to reinforce the message of the book and encourage good bladder and bowel health and bathroom hygiene.  These are similar to those used in the book I wrote the previous year, News from the Loos.

The American Edition of this book is titled Help! I Poop My Pants.  The story is identical to the British version, but the vocabulary, spelling and phrasing of the American Edition has been adapted to make it familiar to North American readers.  Both the British and American editions are available in paperback and for the Kindle and Kindle apps.  Initial sales of the books have been encouraging, and I really hope that these new books help younger children who have soiling problems, as well as their parents and carers.

THE RIGHT TO GO

Imagine this: you are spending the evening at the theatre with a group of friends.  You are enjoying the show, but the drinks you had during the interval have inconveniently made their way to your bladder.  Afraid that you are not going to be able to wait until the final curtain, and having no wish to suffer the discomfort of a full bladder for longer than is necessary, you decide to excuse yourself and make use of the theatre’s toilets.  Getting up, you clamber over your friends and the other patrons on your row and make your way to the nearest exit out from the auditorium. 

You are in for a shock, however.  An usher is standing in front of the exit, blocking your escape, and he refuses to let you pass.  Slightly embarrassed, you explain that you need the toilet and when he still refuses you say that you are desperate and cannot wait.  He is implacable.  ‘You should have gone during the interval,’ he says.  ‘You’ll have to wait until the show is over now.’

It is impossible for a child to
fully concentrate on her 

schoolwork if she needs to
go to the toilet. (c)

Defeated you return to your seat.  Maybe it would have been wise to have made use of the facilities during the interval, but you didn’t really need to go then and, in any case, the queues were fairly long and you have never liked a crowd when you use the loo.  You resume your seat, but you are unable to enjoy the rest of the play.  Your concentration is focussed solely on the steadily increasing pain from your bladder, and your growing fear that you are going to have an embarrassing accident in front of your friends, which will probably be part of the conversation of dinner parties for years to come.  You also hope that your companions do not notice your hand placed firmly in your crotch, and your legs crossed ever tighter as you desperately try to avoid wetting yourself in your seat.  The only other thought occupying your mind is your sense of anger towards the usher.  What gives one human the right to deny another access to the toilet?  Surely being able to use the toilet when you need to is a basic human right, isn’t it?

Wetting his pants in the
classroom is one of the most
 embarrassing things that
can happen to a child. (c)

The above scenario may seem ridiculous, but every day in schools children face a similar dilemma, needing to wee or poo during lesson time but being refused permission to use the toilet because ‘you should have gone at breaktime,’ or not bothering to ask because they know the answer will be in the negative.  Such children are then unlikely to be able to concentrate on their work, as the increasingly strong signals from their bladder or bowel occupies their attention, and they worry about whether they are going to have an accident in front of their peers.  For a child who is past nursery age, wetting or soiling your pants in class is one of the most humiliating experiences imaginable, and peers are not likely to let the poor kid forget their accident in a hurry.  And yet the child has done nothing wrong except needing the toilet at a slightly inconvenient time.

Every parent will know that when a
young child needs to go, he needs to
go NOW, but watering the grass is not
an option for him in the classroom. (c)

For several years I did volunteer work at various local primary schools, working with children aged from 3 to 11.  If a child asked me if they could go to the toilet I always said ‘yes’ without hesitation.  The teachers, however, were not always so accommodating.  In a Year 2 class in one school a 6 year old boy repeatedly asked during a lesson if he could use the toilet but the teacher refused him permission: ‘playtime is the time for going to the toilet,’ she told him.  The poor boy had to keep returning to his desk, increasingly desperate and unable to do much of the task he had been set.  In a different school, a 7 year old girl had to wait to use the toilet because of the rule that only one child of each sex from the class were allowed to go to the toilet at a time.  The girl was clearly desperate for a wee as she hovered near the classroom door, unable to keep still and lifting up first one foot and then the other as she tried to avoid the humiliation of wetting herself in front of her classmates.  It is one of the most harrowing sights I have ever seen. 

Let's encourage kids to poo at school
if they need to. (c)

As well as the risk of having a embarrasing accident in the classroom, there are also health issues involved in forcing a child to wait to use the toilet.  Withholding urine can cause urinary tract infections (UTIs) and continence problems, and, as we have seen in my case, withholding poo can cause constipation and soiling problems.  The need to poo, in particular, can strike at any time, and a child should be encouraged to open their bowel as soon as possible when the need arises.  Many children who otherwise have no toilet issues are reluctant to use the school toilets when they need to poo, preferring to wait until they get home, by which time the urge might have gone, risking constipation problems, or they may have soiled.  Personally, I think that children should be encouraged ask to go to the toilet when they need to poo during lessons and should certainly not be denied permission.  I’ve thought up my own soundbite for a campaign around this issue: ‘It’s Cool to Poo at School!’

You can probably guess that I am fully supportive of ERIC’s ‘The Right to Go’campaign, which calls for schoolchildren to have access to safe and hygienic school toilets at all times, as well as highlighting every child’s right to good care for a continence problem at school.

Children should have
access to safe and hygienic 
school toilets at all times. (c)

Of course, it’s better for the smooth running of a lesson if children use the toilets during their breaks and I’m not suggesting that they should not do this.  But there will always be times when the need to go does not coincide with playtime or lunchtime and all teachers should make allowances for this.  Also, some children will feel uncomfortable going to the toilets when they are crowded, particularly for a poo.  Such children should not be made to suffer because of this and arrangements should be made to allow them to attend to their toilet needs in a manner that is comfortable for them.  And yes, there will be the odd pupil who deliberately uses the excuse of needing the toilet to get out of lessons they do not enjoy, or for nefarious activities such as smoking, but these should be dealt with on an individual basis, and not by punishing the whole class by stopping everyone going to the toilet in lesson time.

I’m sure that there will be teachers who disagree with me and predict chaos in the classroom if they allow their pupils unrestricted access to the toilets.  But ultimately it comes down to the question I posed in my imaginary scenario at the theatre: what gives one human the right to deny another access to the toilet?  

HELP!!!! MY CHILD HAS ENCOPRESIS

In July 2012 fellow former encopresis sufferer DimityTelfer suggested I join a Facebook group of which she herself was a member.  The group was called HELP!!!!My Child Has Encopresis, and was set up to provide a forum for parents whose children, of all ages, had soiling problems.  Although I was not a parent, Dimity felt that my input would be useful as an ‘adult survivor’, and that many members would be interested in hearing about my childhood experiences.

The group provides a vital forum for parents
 of children and teenagers who soil (c).

I agreed to join and quickly received a warm welcome from many group members, who were keen to hear my story and try to see encopresis from a child’s point of view and understand how their own children may be feeling.  The fact that I was male was also seen as an advantage as more boys suffer from encopresis than girls (in the group there is an approximate 60/40 split between boys and girls who soil).  As it is mostly mothers who do the lion’s share of the work in trying to help their child with their toilet problems, some found it particularly useful to read about the experiences of a child of the opposite sex to themselves.

I quickly discovered just what an amazing group it was, offering advice and support in a totally non-judgemental atmosphere, with members sharing their experiences on what worked for their child and what didn’t.  One of the best things about the group was that it offered an environment where parents could freely discuss their child’s toilet issues, which they often felt unable to talk about with their family and friends.  Sadly, soiling in children past potty training age remains largely a taboo subject in the real world, and the older the child the harder it is to talk about to others who have had no experience of toilet problems in their offspring.  This makes encopresis a very isolating condition, both for the child and his or her parents.

Many members find comfort just from being among others who are going through similar experiences, while others are delighted to be able to talk about their child’s soiling with others who ‘get it’.  It is also a good place to vent frustrations on bad days when, for example their son has refused point blank to try to use the toilet and has soiled himself five times during the day or their daughter has pooed her pants in a public place and refused to change herself.  The flip side of this is that parents are also able to celebrate their child’s toilet successes, big and small.  Few people outside the group would understand a mother getting excited because her 8 year old daughter has kept her knickers clean all day or her teenage son has taken himself off to the bathroom and done a poo!

I had never thought that anyone would want to know the explicit details of how I had pooed myself as a child, but I was asked various questions about my juvenile toileting habits that I was happy to answer as candidly as I could.  One of the rules of the group is that nothing is TMI.  It is a principle I have adopted when writing this blog.  Some people may be shocked to read a blog in which soiling is discussed so frankly, and using words like ‘poo’ instead of euphemisms like ‘Number 2’, but I have found this approach to be one which parents of children who soil appreciate and find usefu

The 'sister' groups offer a friendly and supportive
 environment for the parents of children and teenagers
 with daytime and/or nighttime wetting problems. (c)

In July 2016, four years after joining, I was invited to become an Administrator of the group and I was happy to agree.  Being such a friendly group means that disputes rarely arise, but when they do members are quick to alert me so that they can be dealt with promptly.  A month later I decided to set up a ‘sister’ group for parents of children and teenagers who wet themselves during the day, another taboo subject.  Daytime Wetting in Children and Teens operates on similar principles to the Encopresis group. 

The latest addition to this 'family' of groups is Bedwetting in Children and Teens, which I set up in 2018 to cover the sadly common problem of nighttime wetting which causes much heartache to young people and their parents and carers.  In the case of all three groups, I am acting in my capacity of Administrator to try to ensure they offer a friendly, welcoming and non-judgemental environment.

A POOEY BOTTOM AT NURSERY

I loved the year I spent in the nursery of my infant school, although my memories of this period in my life are patchy.  One memory that is clear in my mind involved a poo accident, but, for once, I was not the culprit!

The toilets and washbasins set up at my nursery
was similar to in this picture, but with coats
hanging up instead of towels as it was also
the cloakroom. (c)

The nursery toilets were in the cloakroom, outside the classroom.  There were two cubicles, one each for boys and girls, denoted by pictures of a football and a princess’s tiara, an example of gender stereotyping that would be frowned upon today.  The washbasins were outside the cubicles in the communal area where pupils’ coats were hung.  This set up unfortunately offered no privacy to any child who had an accident, as the nursery assistant would change them while they stood next to the sink.  The nursery, which was in a separate building to the rest of the school, was accessed through the cloakroom, so any parent or visitor who happened to time their arrival shortly after a pupil had paid the price for neglecting their toileting needs would be confronted with a young child’s bare bottom facing them as they entered the building. 

And so on this day, when I was 4 years old, I entered the cloakroom and immediately saw a half naked girl from my class with her back turned towards me, a pooey bottom facing me and a pair of messy knickers at her feet.  I can’t remember her name, so I shall call her Holly.  Squatting in front of Holly, probably having just pulled down the girl’s pants and getting ready to clean her up, was one of the nursery assistants.   As I walked into the cloakroom, the assistant was saying to Holly, ‘You really should have gone to the toilet.’  It took my young brain a second to process this information before I realised what it meant: Holly had pooed her pants!

I was shocked by this for a number of reasons.  Firstly that another child had pooed herself like I often did.  Although I had no reason to think that this was anything other than a one-off accident, it still surprised me that Holly had done it as, although one or two of my classmates had wet themselves at nursery, I thought I was the only child who pooed in his pants.  I was even more surprised that it was a girl who had messed herself.  I believed in the nursery rhyme about little girls being made of ‘sugar and spice and all things nice,’ and never thought that a girl would dirty her knickers.  Indeed, I think it was a revelation to me that girls pooed at all!

And then Holly turned her head and looked at me and, for as long as I live, I shall never forget that anxious look on her face.  Even my immature brain could make a good guess at interpreting Holly’s expression: she was upset that someone had seen her being changed and now knew that she had pooed herself, and was worried that the whole class would soon know what she had done.  The fact that the witness was a child from her class and, even worse, a boy, probably worried her even more.  I looked at Holly and said nothing to her.  Nor did I laugh or giggle at her, or, indeed, make any sign to her that I had taken any notice of what I had seen.  Even forty years later I can clearly remember feeling a certain amount of empathy with her (even though I hadn’t heard of the word at the time), and feeling sorry for her.  I think I would have been more likely to go up to Holly and give her a hug than tease her.

I never told anyone that Holly had 
messed her pants at school, and for
a short time I felt less alone with
my poo problems.

When I went into the classroom I told absolutely no-one what I had seen, not on that day or any subsequent day.  Indeed, it was two decades later before I mentioned it to anyone, when talking with a colleague who was about to enter teacher training about young children having toilet accidents at school (she was resigned to the fact that she might be required to change wet pants, but was horrified by the thought that she may have to clean up a child who had pooed herself!)  Nor did I ever say anything to Holly herself about her messing her knickers.  I’m sure that this was because I knew what it would have been like to have been in her shoes, or rather, her pants!  She may not have thought so at the time, but I think she was lucky in that the boy who walked in on her being changed was the one child in the class who frequently pooed himself and knew all too well just what it was like to be in that situation.

In years to come, when I was still soiling my pants at an age when other children didn’t even seem to have one-off poo accidents, this incident would provide me with little comfort.  But, at the time, for a short period, I didn’t feel quite so alone with my habit.  And Holly had taught me, with an explicit demonstration, that girls do, in fact, poo!

STAYING IN MESSY PANTS

One of the things which the parents of children with encopresis find most difficult to understand is how their offspring seem quite happy to keep wearing soiled underwear after they have had an accident, and carry on activities as if nothing had happened.  Typical comments include, ‘He’d sit in his own waste for hours if I let him,’ and ‘How can she carry on playing when her knickers are full of poo?’  Like many other children with soiling problems, I never told anyone when I’d had an accident and would sit, walk around or play in messy pants until someone, usually my mother, smelled what I had done, checked my pants and changed me.

Having messy pants didn't stop me
from playing.  I was quite content
to sit in my own poo.

You may think that this is a perfectly disgusting thing to do, carrying on playing with a pooey bottom and dirty pants, but at the time it seemed perfectly natural.  Some children can neither smell nor feel when they have had an accident and therefore do not know that they need changing.  This was not the case with me as, although I couldn’t smell anything, I could feel my waste in my pants and knew that I had soiled myself.

When I was very young I liked to think that if I ignored my pooey pants then they would go away.  As I got older I learnt from experience that, sadly, this was not the case, but, for a number of reasons, I still kept quiet about my accidents until they were discovered by others.

One of the reasons for this was that I nearly always got told off when my mother discovered that I’d had another accident.  Sometimes she would also shout at me or threaten to put me back in nappies.  Like the threat to get my teacher to tell everyone in my class that I messed my pants (see How I Stopped Soiling My Pants), I don’t think she would have ever done this, but I didn’t know this at the time and worried about the prospect of being sent to school wearing a nappy.  I was in no hurry to be scolded and tried to put off the event for as long as possible by keeping quiet about the state of my underwear.

Even if she knows that
she is messy and smelly,

and that she needs changing,
a child may be too frightened
or embarrassed to tell
anyone that she has
pooed her pants. (c)

Another factor was the feelings of embarrassment and shame I felt about what I had done, feelings which got worse as I got older and was still incapable of keeping my pants clean all the time.  There was also the feeling of having let my parents down by soiling myself when I knew that I should have used the toilet. 

There was just no way I was going to go up to my mother and admit that I’d pooed myself yet again, and I certainly wasn’t going to tell an adult I barely knew, such as a friend’s parent on a playdate, that I’d had an accident in my pants and needed changing.  If, as a parent, you’ve felt embarrassed when your child has wet him or herself in a shop, then take that embarrassment and multiply it a few times to get how I felt.

Finally, staying in messy pants was a way of coping with what I increasingly thought of as my babyish habit.  By ignoring my accidents and carrying on with what I was doing, I could pretend that my pants were not dirty and I had not soiled myself again.  For that relatively short period I could be a normal child and enjoy playing or reading or whatever I was doing, and put to the back of my mind the fact that I was smelly and messy and had behaved more like a toddler than an older child.

Unless I was really stinky,
 I would play with other
 children when I knew that
my pants were dirty.

My actions varied if I soiled while playing with other children.  If it felt like a bad accident and I guessed that I was really stinky then I tried not to get too close to them.  On the other hand if it felt like I only had a relatively small amount of poo in my pants then I would carry on playing with them as normal.  Sometimes they would comment on the smell, but usually they didn’t.  If they did say anything they usually accused me of having ‘trumped’ (broken wind), rather than dirtying my pants.

As for physical considerations, I won’t say that I liked the feeling of messy pants, but over time I got used to it and did not find wearing them particularly uncomfortable.

Another activity which encopretic children commonly engage in, to the exasperation of their parents, is to hide their soiled underwear, often under the bed or at the back of a cupboard.  This is something I never did, but I can certainly understand why children do this.  If they are likely to be punished for soiling then by hiding their pants they may be seeking to avoid, or merely delay, their punishment.  

Even if their parents are very understanding about their soiling problems and would not punish them, the child is still likely to feel embarrassed about the situation like I did and feel unable to report their accidents.  Eventually they are given away by the stench produced by the stash of hidden underwear or the fact that the child is running out of clean pants.  But as Dimity Telfer says in her blog The Magic Within Us about why she hid her soiled underwear, 'When your choices are to be yelled at now or yelled at tomorrow, I chose the second option.  I hid them because I wanted to live for an hour (even half an hour) as if it never happened."

SOILING AT SCHOOL

Children who are at school and who soil themselves frequently are almost certain to have accidents in the classroom.  For most kids with encopresis, and their parents, this is likely to be one of the most stressful aspects of the condition.  No child past nursery age wants to poo their pants in front of their peers, particularly not on a repeated basis, and be awarded nicknames such as ‘class baby’ or ‘stinky kid.’  Yet this can be the reality for some of the thousands of children who suffer from soiling problems.

Soiling can lead to a child being teased
or isolated at school, even when she is clean. (c)

Schools can vary a great deal in how they deal with pupils who soil.  The best schools employ staff who are willing to change young children out of soiled pants, provide private toilet facilities, devise a signal for a child to give if they need to leave the classroom quickly and work with parents to maintain a child’s dignity and assist them with their continence issues.  At the other end of the spectrum are schools who force parents to leave their place of work and come into school to change their child, refuse to allow children access to the toilet during lessons, blame parents for not potty training their child properly and even suspend pupils for having accidents.

I was amazingly lucky in that soiling caused me very few problems at infant school, even though I was having a lot of accidents elsewhere at the time.  While I sometimes went home in slightly (for me!) dirty pants, I only ever had one major accident at school.  Was this because I was more likely to use the toilets at school than at home?  Not a bit of it!  I can’t recall a single occasion when I opened my bowel in the toilet at infant school, I would simply withhold my poo while sitting in my seat and then carry on working.  In fact, as I had a relatively strong bladder for a child and went home at lunchtimes, I rarely used the school toilets at all. 

I hardly ever visited the school toilets
during my years at infant school, 
and never once sat on one to do a poo. (c)

My one major accident actually occurred on a field trip to an outdoor activities centre when I was 7 and soon to leave infant school.  My mother had told me beforehand ‘make sure you go to the toilet if you need to,’ but I did not feel the need do so.  However, towards the end of the visit, I realised that I had pooed myself.  And then I did what I always did in such circumstances, I carried on what I was doing as if nothing had happened, although I did try to avoid getting too close to my classmates or the teachers.  Despite this precaution I still expected the smell to give me away.

But I was again remarkably lucky: no-one discovered that I’d had an accident.  Nobody, child or adult, remarked on the odour I was carrying around with me, either during the remainder of our time at the centre or on the coach back to the school where our parents were waiting for us.  With her well-trained nose, however, my mother knew straight away when I got off the coach that I had soiled my pants.  I told her that there were no toilets at the centre.  Not surprisingly, she didn’t believe me.  Walking home with a friend of my mother and her daughter, my mother tried to explain the fact that I smelt of poo by telling her friend that I didn’t wipe my bottom properly.  It was probably no more convincing than my own lie.

If my accident had been discovered then I would have received a stern response.  My teacher was rather strict and was unsympathetic when it came to her pupils having toilet accidents.  The previous Christmas one girl, whom I shall call Melanie, wet her pants during a rehearsal for the school nativity play.  The whole class were sat together back in the classroom when the puddle on the stage was discovered.  ‘Melanie, have you wet yourself?’ called out our teacher as soon as she entered the room.  When the girl said ‘no’, our teacher demanded, ‘Let me feel your pants.’

Aged 6, I withheld my poo at infant
school but avoided soiling myself
in the classroom.

While the rest of the class watched transfixed, poor Melanie had to clamber over us all and stand at the front where our teacher put her hand up the 6 year old’s skirt and felt her underwear.  ‘You have!’ she exclaimed, before sending Melanie off to find the caretaker and tell him what she’d done.  ‘Filthy creature,’ our teacher added for good measure as the girl left the room.

Even today, the thought of my Year 2 teacher calling out, ‘James, have you pooed yourself?’, before checking my pants in front of the whole class and declaring them to be messy fills me with horror.

Why did I only have one accident at school despite my reluctance to park my bottom on school toilets?  I don’t know for sure, but I suspect that subconsciously my body knew that accidents in the classroom would be far more embarrassing for me than the ones I had at home and made extra effort to ensure they didn’t happen.  Whatever the reason, I’m very thankful to have largely avoided the humiliation of soiling at school.  As I stated in my earlier post, How I Stopped Soiling My Pants, at junior school I found the courage to use the school toilets when I needed a poo.

Sadly, many other children are not so lucky when it comes to avoiding soiling at school.  Dimity Telfer's worst experience of soiling herself happened at her school when she was 13, which she describes in her blog post: My Worst Day With Encopresis.

MY FINAL ACCIDENT

It’s probably no coincidence that my final accident was also one of my most embarrassing.  It happened in public on holiday in Scarborough in the north of England when I was 11 years and 3 months old.

Aged 10, I was still not
completely free of poo accidents.

By this stage my accidents were few and far between, but I was still not completely clear of them.  One evening during that week long holiday my parents and I were on a walking tour of a beautiful park.  Around half way around I soiled myself.  I had been avoiding using public toilets for bowel movements during the holiday, thinking I could always wait until we returned to our chalet with its private facilities.  But my body had other ideas.  As always, I did not feel myself doing the deed but I felt the poo in my pants and knew that I’d had another accident.  Shortly afterwards the smell told my parents what I had done.

My mother was carrying no spare pants for me and, in any case, I was now a bit too old to be taken into the Ladies to be changed (my father is disabled and could not have changed me.)  There was also no way my mother was going to risk taking me behind a bush to try to clean me up.  I’m grateful for this, I think I would have died of humiliation if anyone had chanced upon me being changed and seen my bare pooey bottom.  There was nothing else for it, I had to walk the remainder of the tour in messy pants.

I did not enjoy the rest of the park one bit.  I was due to start secondary school in a few weeks time and I would soon be hitting puberty, but here I was in public, with lots of adults and younger children nearby, smelling of poo, walking around with my own waste sitting in my underwear, feeling like an unreliable toddler and waiting to be told off again when we returned to our chalet.  I don’t know what the others in the park thought of an 11 year old boy who had clearly messed his pants – no-one stayed near me long enough to express an opinion!

I hated being made to sit on the toilet
 after I had been cleaned up. (c)

Back at the chalet, my mother changed my pants.  It was always my mother who changed me, I can’t ever remember anyone else ever doing so.  If you are thinking that I should have been cleaning up my own messes long before this age, then you are probably right.  However, I don’t think I had it easy just because I didn’t have to change myself.  Standing lower half naked in front of my mother when I was less than two years away from being a teenager, being changed like I was a toddler and scolded at the same time was an embarrassing and unpleasant experience.

My mother often made me sit on the toilet to try to poo after she had finished cleaning me up, and she did so on this day, leaving me on my own while she took away my soiled clothes.  When I was younger I hated this, and always begged her to let me get off.  It always seemed like a punishment and I rarely produced anything as I had already done it all in my pants.

This time I sat there thinking.  This couldn’t go on.  I was 11, I was about to start ‘big’ school, I couldn’t keep having accidents like this.  What if the next one happened in the classroom at my new school?

Of course at the time I did not know this was going to be my final accident, indeed it was a long time afterwards before I knew for sure that my soiling problem was finally at an end.  It took a bad accident in public to make me resolve to complete the journey to becoming fully clean that I had begun several years before.  I never avoided public toilets again.

If you would like to read a post about the emotional aspects of helping a child with soiling problems, then try this post from the SuperMom Blues: Raising a Child with Encopresis.