The Green Stroller

When our kids were little the whole swivel concept on a stroller was not really perfected yet. We had a green double jogging stroller. In order to turn the thing, I had to put all my weight on the back bar and push down on the top handle. Every single damn time I turned it. But I didn’t care because once strapped in, freedom washed over me, as we set off with drinks and snacks in hand. This is why I refused to give up the green stroller until I could no longer physically push it. I think the kids were 10 and 12. Okay, a lot younger than that but people had to wrestle that thing from me when it was time.

Often times in the summer, our adventure involved Lake Mokoma, PA. Getting around the lake in the green stroller was always a daily goal. However, having UC, I never knew when I would need to go to the bathroom. When walking around the lake, the bathroom was the woods. And what you may not understand is that with IBD, the urgency is so profound there is no waiting. No holding it. So, if the stomach pains started I pushed the kids into the woods, put the brakes on and trotted off behind a tree with my “kit”–what one carries when they know an accident could happen at any time. After, I returned to the stroller and off we went to hopefully finish our walk.

Along with my faithful green stroller, was the potty in the van. I went with the ruse that it was for my kids. You know, for potty training. But I used it far more than them. When we got rid of our minivan (still miss it), I would pull over on the side of the road and into the bushes I went. My Dad would often spend time with us in NY in the summer and he was with us on one such occasion. After I returned to the car where he sat with the kids in the back, he said “Gosh, I guess that corn will grow tall. You fertilized it”.

Now I have to talk about the dirty stuff. The times when I didn’t make it to any bathroom stall, or woods, or anything. At all. I remember calling my mother in law shortly after we moved to Skaneateles. “Well, I had my first accident on the streets of Skaneateles”. Not directly on the sidewalk, mind you. In my pants or shorts or whatever. Now take a minute to imagine this. Walking down Genesee St or the main street of any quaint small town…with shit in your pants. It’s humbling. Suddenly, I am brought back to toddler days but with adult shame in tow.

SO what’s the point, you ask? Well the point is our kids grew up with the nuances that went with the green stroller and the potty and mom tying a shirt around her waist because “it happened”. Kids are resilient. I like to think that this may make them more empathic of others who have a chronic illness. I think dirty, embarrassing things like this are worth talking about because it needs to be. We need to talk about things in life that are messy. Literally and figuratively.