You read title correctly. Before you hit the "x" button, let me explain. My mother passed on a terrible gene to my brother, sister and I. All of my aunts and cousins have it as well, so we can sympathize with one another. I wouldn't label it IBS, but I would label it, "the runs" or as most people refer to it here in Oklahoma, "the s#*%$". You know now what I'm talking about?
If we are scared, nervous, excited or eat anything out of the ordinary we have about 5 minutes before it's time to go. It's a terrible, embarrassing gene (especially when you are dating) but it's a family gene. I've inherited it and there's nothing I can do to get rid of it. Believe me.
Sadly, I have passed it on to my sweet, little innocent daughter.
Example: Isabelle LOVES ice cream (she also gets that from me) so about once a week after she has eaten a good dinner, we ask her if she wants to get some ice cream. Of course she gets excited and starts running in place (that means "yes" in her mind).
A few days ago we decided to head out and get some ice cream. We went to our favorite yogurt bar (because you can't eat REAL ice cream that often without needing insulin) and RIGHT before we get out of the car, Isabelle starts saying "Poop, Poop". We pull her out of her car seat and low and behold she has completely filled her diaper. Since the yogurt place is only about 10 minutes from our house, and she had already pooped for the day, we forgot to bring her diaper bag. We knew it would be cruel (for me and for Isabelle) to just go home empty handed, so I had the brilliant idea of just cleaning her off, putting back on her pants without a diaper and getting our yogurt to go.
Mr. T and I are filling our yogurt cups quickly when I glance at Izzy and see her face (you know "the face"). She notices me staring at her so she starts saying, "Poop, Poop" again. I rush over to her quickly enough to see poop running down her legs and onto the floor. I try not to make things obvious, so I ask Mr T to bring me over some napkins real quick. He notices what's going on and he gets into cleanup mode as quickly as possible. We are cleaning her, she is yelling at us because we are interrupting her flow, all while we are trying to act like everything is normal (I would be devastated if we weren't allowed back there to eat...seriously. Yes, I know I have a problem). We get her to the car, strip her, and drive quickly home in a stinky car to put her in the bath.
I was hoping it was a fluke accident, but no. This has happened more than once, but now we are smart enough to actually BRING the diaper bag with us. Mr. T has pointed out that she obviously has my gene's. She gets super excited for something and then craps. Awesome right? I told you dating wasn't that fun.
P.s. Sorry if this grosses you out. I'm queen of TMI.