Things I overheard or said during an enema.

I've been having more discussions with my sister Tess and we're remembering more conversations or just comments from our "golden age" in the early to late 50s.

I remember one time asking mom "how much water is in it" reply was "enough to get the job done"!

Tess told A younger sister who was complaining about her upcoming enema "it's just an enema, get it over with". Sister's reply was "That's easy for you to say, it's not going in YOUR butt"!

Our grandmother's favorite while we waited the required 5 minutes "hold your water until the bell rings".

While the enema was flowing, mom's was, "don't fight it just let the water in".

One time Tess and I were giving to each other, I asked her "do you feel it"? Her answer was "did you ever get an enema you didn't feel"?

Did you ever hear or say something back then that brings a smile to you?

I'm still LostInThe50s

My grandmother loved to give me enemas as a young boy. Anything I did wrong she told me to stop it or I was going to get an enema. She lived upstairs from us and watched me a lot when my parents went out.

I remember when she had enough of my misbehavior she went into the vanity cabinet and got the enema equipment out. She made me watch as she filled it with soapy water. Making me take my pj’s off and lay on the bed she gave me a very fast, crampy enema. I hated it and loved it at the same time.

After it all was over we would watch tv on the couch while she cuddled me on her breasts. I would do anything to relive the comfort that I felt after that enema and loving embrace.

My mom was of the type that had to put the blame on the victim. She could not accept that sometimes things just happened beyond the control of the person. I had to have done something to cause the resulting illness or state of being. This was especially so when I was being given enemas for constipation. I ate too much or not enough to make my self constipated. Not only did I have to suffer through a thorough cleaning out over her lap but I had to hear how it my fault I got constipated

When sick and the enemas were both doctor ordered and routine due to codeine cough medicine, I wasn’t lectured during the enema. Rectal temperature taking first then, “In the bathroom for your enema.”

A few of phrases stand out from years of enemas from my mother.

"Just a little more"

"I know you don't like this, but you know this is for your own good"

"I wouldn't do this if you didn't need it"

"The doctor said to keep your bowels open"

"You know you always get a rinse after the soapy enema"

"Someday, you will thank me for this"

and from me:

"I don't need an enema"

"I can't take any more"

"I can't hold it"

"The doctor said ONE enema"

There are more, but you get the idea.

Since I posted a description of things I heard or said, I've been thinking about mom saying, "don't fight it, just let it go in". How am I able to fight it? No matter what I do IT'S GOING IN! And usually, she says "take the whole enema or you'll get another one". Then there's the inevitable 5 minute hold, with instructions "hold it until the bell rings or you'll get another enema"! Tess and I would at times not wait the full 5 minutes, or stop before it emptied just to get another enema, I doubt that mom ever caught on as we always put up a token resistance.

I do remember mom saying to Diane or Robin, our two younger sisters, "I don't understand why you two give me such a hard time when you need an enema. Tess and your brother take their enemas without that much fussing". This must have been when I was 7 or 8. Robin was three years younger and Diane 1.5 years younger than I was at the time.

My favorite remembrance from mom was one day she was fixing an enema for me and I asked "how much water is in it"? Without missing a beat she said "enough to get the job done"! I never forgot that day! The enema was the same as most that mom gave me, no nonsense, once it's fixed and hung on the hook next to the window, me naked from the waist down, towel on mom's lap, me across her lap, watching everything in the mirror on the back of the bathroom door, she lubed the nozzle, squirt a little water in the sing, insertion, CLICK, well you know the rest.

BTW, I've posted a lot of memories in other groups of our growing up on our grandparent's farm in West Virginia before we moved to Philadelphia when I was about 11 or 12.

That's why I'm LostInThe50s

@LostInThe50s It's always good to remember those days and fun to read other memories in part because they trigger more memories for me.

I read this, "I remember one time asking mom "how much water is in it" reply was "enough to get the job done"!" and I remember watching mom fill the bag and soaping it up and I'd protest it was 'too much, not so much, pleeeease mom!" and she'd calmly say "I'm going to give you the right amount you need. Not a drop more, not a drop less. " Sometimes an enema was prelude to a spanking in which case she might add, "Don't forget after this I'm going to spank you. Don't make it worse." This last was quite effective, lol

@LindaB said,

Sometimes an enema was prelude to a spanking in which case she might add, "Don't forget after this I'm going to spank you. Don't make it worse."

Growing up my siblings and I got enemas from mom, grandma, and our two young aunts. If grandma gave us a spanking, she always asked us if we’d like an enema to help calm down afterwards. As a rule, we accepted, but occasionally declined the offer. The best I recall, grandma started the routine and was picked up by mom and her two younger sisters. However, there was an exception with mom and our two aunts. After spanking us, we didn’t get a choice, wanted or not we got an enema.

When we got called to the bathroom for various reasons by mom or our aunts. It was easy to tell if we were in trouble or not. If we saw an enema bag hanging up, we knew what was coming. A spanking then an enema laying naked across their lap. With grandma, on the other hand, we never knew what to expect. She didn’t fix an enema until after she’d spanked us, then asked, if we’d like an enema to help calm down.

How many things are similar...

Everything I read in these few posts reminds me of my childhood; I hear my mom, I hear myself, I smell the bathroom with the rubber and the soap...

"I don't need an enema"

"I can decide better. Of course you need one now."

"It's enough, it's enough..."

"two or three more balls..."

"I think I'm going to burst..."

"Then we'll take a short break; ..."

"Why so much..."

"So that the enema is successful..."

"I think I'm having cramps..."

"Then the enema does a good job..."

Mom never said much; she simply gave me the enemas she deemed necessary.

At some point I just let it get the better of me, whimpering quietly to myself.

The only comment: "Don't act like that, it'll be over soon..."

Yep we will keep this simple > Take off your bottoms & get in the tub ! Pull your legs back for me . In the tube slides . Not much complexity at our house . G

Since I was a solo act into adulthood and I didn’t talk to myself I didn’t hear or say anything funny or profound or erotic.

It’s ok to talk to yourself unless you keep saying “huh”.

Tess & I have been talking about our shared and enjoyment of enemas as we spent our young years on our grandparents farm, we keep digging up memories of events in the early 50s. I got another call from Tess (2 years older) this morning, she told me about the time she was curious about the amount of water each squirt of mom's "red squeeze thing" as we called it, actually delivered. After determining that squeezing it as hard as possible there was still some water that remained. Tess said that she did this quite a few years ago before the 8 oz syringe deteriorated and was thrown out. If it was filled to the top, and squeezed as complete as possible into a measuring cup, it only delivered a little over 5 oz! So with this in mind, she determined that before mom graduated Robin (3 years younger then I) and Diane (1.5 years younger) to the "hose" when Robin was getting her enemas with the "red squeeze thing" as we came to know it, mom usually gave Robin 4 or 5 squirts so she was getting about 20 or 25 oz of water! Robin put up the biggest fuss of all of us when enemas were administrated, Diane always argued that she didn't need an enema but still ended up on mom's lap getting an enema, she usually got 6 or 7 squirts so about 30 or 35 oz, and Tess and I put up a little token resistance as we didn't want to talk our way out of the impending enema! As I've covered in other posts I don't remember the Synge being used on me, my first remembered enema I was in hospital for a tonsillectomy, and in 1953 ANY hospital visit involved an enema! A very serious nurse pushed in a cart with a white can, red hose, metal clamp, and a small black pipe, and I was surprised with my first remembered enema! Tess told me "I saw mom give you enemas with the "red squeeze thing" in your butt when you were little, so I was probably around 2 or 3 YO and I never remembered those enemas. But she was proud that being a big girl, she gets enemas with the red bag and hose now and considered herself an expert. After the enema in the hospital it was several weeks before I got my first remembered enema from mom. Tess and I started taking the "red squeeze thing" down to a creek that ran through the farm about a week after my hospital experience. More on those enemas in my other posts.

That's why I'm still "LostInThe50s"

“How are you doing?” This is pretty much his script while my husband is giving me an enema. My responses typically might include:

Good so far

OK, but keep going

Slow it down

Coach me to breathe

I’m getting really crampy

Stop!!

I need to rest a bit

However, in between the above “how I’m doing” responses, I’ve been known to dictate a grocery shopping list, remind him to take the dog to the groomer, please vacuum the house, trash day is Wednesday don’t forget, even plan a New Year’s party. Sometimes we get a lot accomplished, more than just putting in a tube up my behind to help relieve a constipated headache.

I was watching some downloaded video clips and there was a scene inside a large bathroom that could have been the one we grew up with on the farm right down to the mirror on the back of the door. It reminded me about one evening I watched as Tess was getting an enema, I was outside and could see everything in the full length mirror on the back of the bathroom door, watching mom fill the bag, hang it on the hook next to the window, Vaseline the nozzle, squirt the air out, sit on the window seat towel on her lap, Tess lays on the towel, inserted the nozzle in her butt, CLICK and Tess squirmed a little as the enema emptied into her. Mom set the timer telling Tess hold it for 5 minutes if you don't want another enema. Tess asked something like "why do I have to hold it so long"? Mom said "it's only 5 minutes, and it will work better" Tess said "it's really working now, I can't hold it". Mom let her up Tess leaped to the toilet and when she was finished mom gave her another enema. Tess said she remembers that night vividly, she really wanted a second enema. Both of us used that "loophole" several times to get another enema, or had mom stop before the bag was empty to get another enema. Naturally we both put up a token resistance to both the first and second enema. I still can remember what her little girl butt looked like with the red hose in it!

Tess said "I remember telling you that mom was going to give me an enema after supper that night so you could get in position to watch, I don't know which you liked better, watching me or Diane or Robin". My answer was all of the above, but Robin was my favorite as she put on the best show! We both miss living on the farm, I looked it up on Google Earth and the farm is gone, there are houses in it's place. Many fond memories of not only our enema antics using a cut off hose behind the barn or taking mom's "red squeeze thing down to the creek that ran through the property, but also the relaxed way of life, playing outside until dark, not worrying about strangers lurking around.

I'm still LostInThe50s

Marty

Lost in the 50s !! - a very nice comment of your memories, what happened decades ago !! - yes, for sure, times go by, but never forget - such moments will forever be part of our past, a kingdom of heaven, where no one will be able, to dispel us !!

Kindly regards from Germany !!

This was the era when both moms and recipients knew the script. Everyone knew their lines, too, and they went something like this:

Mom: You haven't been to the bathroom lately, so you need a good enema

Me: No, I can go. Give me a chance

Mom: OK, go ahead and try

Me: (trying my best, but nothing happening)

Mom: See, you do need an enema

Me: But not too much

Mom: You'll need to take enough for it to work

Me: Ow! It hurts! Take it out!

Mom: Nonsense. Just relax

Me: That's enough. That's enough

Mom: Just a little bit more

Me: I've got to go

Mom: Take some nice deep breaths

Me: Are we done yet?

Mom: Yes, now give it a chance to work

Me: Oh, Mom!

Mom: See, I told you that you needed a good enema

Growing up, I overheard my mom giving my sister enemas many times. My sister tended to be a drama queen, so her loud, impassioned complaints and pleas at enema time were always entertaining.

"But, mom, I don't want an enema."

"I don't need one either!"

(Those always fell on deaf ears. If mom said anything, it was something along the lines of "that's not your decision, young lady... no more arguing or dilly-dallying... get your panties off NOW.")

"Mom, this is so embarrassing."

"I really don't need an enema. Really!"

"I hate this. Why do you always do this to me?"

("It's for your own good, young lady... on your hands and knees, head down and bottom up.")

"This is so embarrassing."

"I'm getting full, too full... I can't take anymore!"

"Stop it, take it out, I have to go!"

("We're not even close to being done, young lady. You need take the whole bag and hold it for 10 minutes.")

"But I can't, really, it hurts too much."

("It's supposed to hurt a little. Otherwise, it's not working.")

"But it really, really, really hurts."

("You need to start cooperating, young lady. If you keep giving me a hard time, I'll call your father in here...")

"Oh, mom!"