'50s, '60s and '70s how long it was between when you were in the bathroom & you knew you were going to get an enema?

I would be called to come to the bathroom, and the bag would be prepared and hanging. I would whine and protest, but within five minutes I would be naked and across her lap, with pipe inserted and warm enema going in. How I hated to get them then, and now a consuming fantasy.

When I was under 6 I remember my mom always coming into the bathroom when I seemed to be struggling and offering a bum bulb. I never accepted though because I did not know how it would work since the troublesome turd was halfway out. I should have accepted and let her figure it out. I really liked her bum bulbs.

Time once you were in the bathroom? It was only the time my mother required to make up a sink full of soapy water and fill the enema bag with a cup. One she announced "I think you could use a good enema" it was a short walk with her to the bathroom, after she stopped at the linen closet to retrieve the bag.

Bag full, hung on the towel rack. Boy on his knees bent over the rim of the tub. Ponds cold cream applied to the nozzle and a swipe across the pucker. Then fingers spreading the butt cheeks, and in went the nozzle.

From the age of 5 to 8 or 9, mom usually had the bag prepared and hung before I was taken or called to the bathroom. This was not always the case, but due to my inevitable fussing before and during my enemas, I am sure she chose to get as much ready as she could before I knew what was about to happen. As soon as I got into the bathroom I was told to undress, or when young, mom just did it. Within minutes I was naked in the bathtub laying on my back looking up at the bulging red bag over me and experiencing both an unexplainable excitement and a fear of what was coming.

In most cases, once the announcement was made that an enema was forthcoming, there was little time to ponder, worry, or make a last ditch attempt at a BM. If I had stayed home from school, I knew I'd be getting an enema at her earliest convenience. "Get in the bathroom, take off your clothes, and lay down in the tub." If she asked why I didn't have a BM today, I knew an enema was on the agenda. She retrieved the enema bag from it's usual hanging place and went to the kitchen sink. I watched as she filled it from a pitcher before I was shooed off to the tub to await my fate.

My sister and I were watching TV one evening after dinner. Mom came into the living room carrying the enema bag. My sister blurted out, "momma, how come you have the enema bag?" My mom replied that she and grandma were going to give her a little enema because she hadn't pooped. I tried to take in all of the preparations until the bedroom door was closed. When my sister tattled on me for teasing her about the impending enema, once she was finished expelling on the toilet, I was told "mister it's your turn...get in the tub while I get your enema ready...you'll learn not to tease your sister!" Those were sometimes the most intense soapy enemas I ever recalled. Needless to say, my sister always got away with teasing me, but I always got it in the end!

I remember shortly after our family doctor gave up his practice due to health issues our new doctor told my Mom that he advised her to stop giving me enemas and start giving me oral laxatives instead. I personally could not stand the Castoria or Epsom Salt solutions that Mom chose. So, I stopped telling her that I was constipated. Finally, after a week of not using the bathroom, I went to her for help. She listened and said something like I thought that you had not been going to the bathroom… After saying that Mom reached up into the cabinet and pulled out the Castoria.. I teared up and said “Mom, don’t make me take that stuff!” Mom seemed to ignore my request.. I turned and went into our bathroom and sat down on the toilet. A few minutes later she came in and sat down on the side of tub next to where I was sitting. She took my hands into her’s and when she had my attention said “Mike, you know what our doctor said!” I turned away from her. She, in turn, got up and left the bathroom. I, however, continued to sit on the toilet. Five minutes passed. Ten minutes passed. Then, after about 30 minutes Mom came back into the bathroom and again took a seat on the tub next to me. I turned toward her and before she could speak, I beat her to it. I asked her “to please give me an enema… saying “I am miserable!” She took my left hand into hers again and started rubbing it. A minute or so later, I, again, said “Please!” Mom didn’t say anything. She just sat there rubbing my left hand. I, in turn, just looked straight ahead. Finally, Mom broke the silence saying “Mike, want you please let me give you some Castoria!” I shook my head… no! Mom, again, got up and left the room. I remained on the toilet. Another 30 minutes passed and Mom returned to the bathroom. This time she didn’t come over to the tub. Instead, she walked over to the white cabinet opposite the sink and opened its door. She reached in and first pulled out her Rexall Victoria hot water bottle.. then, she pulled out the red tubing and stepped over to the sink. She turned on the sink’s hot water and turned towards me. “Ok, I shouldn’t be doing this!” I smiled back at her and told her “Thanks, Mom! I love you!” Mom, just shook her head. When she had the bottle full, she shut the water off and attached the tubing to the bottle. She, then, walked over to the hook that was above the toilet and hung the syringe up… by its bottom tab. Immediately, water began entering the tubing! A distinct bloop, bloop, bloop was heard throughout the room. Mom commented “the enema bag is getting itself ready for you!” I eased down in front of the toilet and assumed the normal knee chest position. Mom, meanwhile, sat down on the toilet. She picked up the Vaseline that was on the back of the toilet and greased the douche nozzle that was attached to the red tubing. Next, she inserted that nozzle into my rectum and opened the tubing’s shut-off. My enema began. I loved every second of it! After I had expelled that one, Mom observed the results and proceeded to give me two more! I was sitting on cloud nine!

The time frame when I would have gotten enemas from mom and grandma would be during the 60's. The time between when it was determined I would be getting an enema and when I actually got it varied a lot depending on the circumstances. Sometimes if I had a tummy ache and it was determined I had not yet pooped that day, maybe she would wait until after supper to see if I would be able to go. Other times she would say, "I have time now, let's get it over with." and it would be all over in a matter of minutes.

The time in the bathroom was just a few minutes. While mom ran the water in the sink to warm it up, I would be taking off my clothes from the waist down. Then, lean over with my hands on the edge of the bathtub while she gave me 1, 2, or 3 squirts with the bulb. Then she told me to hold it a few minutes if I could because it would work better, and she left the room saying to let her know when I was done. The whole process only took about 10 minutes, and I learned to like it. Any discussion I would have would not be whether or not I needed the enema, but when it would be done.

Reminds me of a paperback novel these stories

The answer to the discussion question, the time between getting an enema and being told, very short! Just long enough to watch the enema being prepared. Here's the whole story as I remember that very first enema from mom almost 70 years ago!

My first REMEMBERED from mom. By the time mom started giving me enemas, I already liked them. First in the hospital for tonsillectomy and getting my first remembered enema from a nurse using a white can, red hose, black nozzle at 5 years old, at first I FREAKED when she tried to put the nozzle in my butt, then OK this isn't bad..... Click! Warm water, feels good, OK, that's enough, I gotta go! Finally tube out, placed on bed pan, not happy, no chance of holding it, it's coming out! In spite of the fear at the beginning, I was hooked!

The next morning I told mom about the nurse and the white can and red hose, she told me "don't tell anyone about it" but that didn't stop me from telling Tess (2 years older sister) who seemed to consider herself an expert. Tess told me "it's called an enema" and she told me about the enemas we received when I was "little" about 2 to 3 years old, not remembering them, Tess said mom gave us enemas with a "red squeeze thing" when little. She said now mom gives her enemas with a red bag and hose since she was 5.

My first remembered enema from mom was between 5 and 6 in the big upstairs bathroom using what I later learned was our grandmother's open top red bag. I remember not feeling well that day, being grumpy, mom had me go with her to the upstairs bathroom, we went in but nothing was said about her intentions, she told me to remove my shoes, pants, and underwear, I did as told while she got a red bag & hose out of the closet and ran water in the sink. Based on what I remembered about the nurse, I now had an idea about what she was going to do. I nervously watched her use a measuring cup to put water in the bag, I don't know how much water was used but I would guess about a pint to 1.5 pints, I remember her saying "I think an enema will help you" (there's that word I learned from Tess) as she hung it on a hook next to the window seat, she sat down and told me to lay across her lap. I did and while watching every move in the full length mirror on the back of the door, mom reached for the hose that was in the top of the bag, dipped her finger in the jar of Vaseline on the sink, rubbed it on the black nozzle, I watched and felt it as it was inserted remembering the feeling as the same as the nurse. It was only a second or two when mom reached for the silver clamp and CLICK! The magic started again! I remember her favorite instructions while giving an enema were usually "don't fight the enema, let the water in or we'll have to do it again". It wasn't long before I had to go! Shortly, it stopped, mom said "now hold it for a few minutes so it will work or we'll have to do it again". She wound the timer to 5 minutes, it was 5 minutes later (but it felt like an hour), DING! I hit the toilet and EXPLODED!

Now having the information about how to get a second enema, it wasn't too long before I started using this "loophole" to get a second enema. Not every time but often enough to raise questions like "I don't know why you can't take or hold a small enema". I remember saying things like "it's just too hard" or "I'm sorry, I just couldn't take any more", or "I can't hold it, it's going to come out".

That's why I'm LostInThe50s

I am only old enough to remember back to the mid 1960s

Once in the bathroom I had to work fast because I was afraid of getting caught.

if I got caught it was a trip to at least 2 doctors, one of whom would be either a child psychologist, child psychiatrist, or child behaviorist!

The other would be either a pediatrician or gastroenterologist.

mom would always try to tell the doctors what to do!

I would be laying in my parents bed, sick home from school. My mother would be on the phone with the doctor. I would over hear him say, "give him a bag." Later that day a neighbor came over, hung the yellow open top enema bag from the ceiling light, would hold me down and force the child nozzle in me. I faught but would eventually loose as they got the nozzle in and clicked the valve, hated enemas.

A lot depended on where we were and the circumstances. At home, we were generally aware when mom would give us a couple of enemas and the reason. Up until around age ten, we received enemas laying across our bed together, afterwards we received enemas together in the bathroom. Then there were mom's enemas out of the blue. They came totally unexpected at random times. The one exception was rainy days, that’s the only time we could anticipate get one. Even after mom moved us to the bathroom for enemas, enemas out of the blue were done laying across our bed. They lasted longer than routine enemas because unlike normal enemas, she didn’t use her three-quart pumpkin bag. They were always a rinse enema in her full two-quart closed top bag. We each had to take as much of a full bag as possible before being allowed to relieve ourselves. The first one was lucky, the tough part was waiting your turn.

At our grandmothers, things were different. Grandma would give us enemas without notice for a variety of different reasons. Being moody, acting out of sorts, not eating normally, or being constipated are just a few. Sometimes we could anticipate when she would give us an enema and other times we couldn’t. To complicate matters, her two younger daughters took care of our evening bath along with enemas and the occasionally spanking. So, whenever she thought one or all of us needed an enema, she would tell one or both of the girls to take care of it for her. That’s where things got interesting, the girls would sometimes makeup excuses to give us and themselves enemas. Something my siblings and I didn’t mind, because we liked enemas as much as our young aunts did. This was the nineteenth fifties; Doctor house calls and enemas were commonplace. Sex was a taboo subject, only discussed behind closed doors. Our grandmother was a retired Registered Nurse and a firm believer in enemas for both kids and adults. And that was life in the nineteenth fifties for most young an old.

As far as I know, we had no external influence on the enemas that our mother gave us. She decided and executed. And it felt like there were only minutes between the two, comparable to the ride on a roller coaster. As soon as you sat inside, the thrill began.

@Adrian6 said,

As far as I know, we had no external influence on the enemas that our mother gave us. She decided and executed.

You had it easy, my siblings and I had mom, grandma, and our two young aunts to contend with. The thing was, my siblings and I didn’t mind getting enemas, in fact we liked it. The closer we got to puberty, the more we liked getting enemas. At home it was only mom, but at grandmas it was grandma and our two young aunts. And those two girls liked getting enemas as much as we did, not to mention giving enemas.

@Rick6981

...if it was fun, nothing stood in the way of this colorful hustle and bustle, right? 🤗😎

Looking back, Mom gave my brother and I an average of two to three enemas each per month. That was enough and kept the tension and anticipation for the next one high, at least for me. My brother continued to reject this and had no involvement in his adult life.

@Adrian6 said,

Looking back, Mom gave my brother and I an average of two to three enemas each per month. That was enough and kept the tension and anticipation for the next one high, at least for me.

At home, we averaged two or three enemas a month from mom. During the summer, when we spent four to six weeks at our grandmothers, the normal routine was enemas at least once a week. And that usually happened on Saturday evening at bath time. But depending on the circumstances, it could be more than once a week.

I don’t think I made myself very clear in post forty-five. As I’ve stated elsewhere, our aunts weren’t that much older than us. The older of the two girls was six years older than me and her sister was five years older. They both could get very mischievous at times, and that mischief included enemas.

I knew pretty quickly I was going to get enemas when I heard mom calling me to come see her in the bathroom room! As soon as I walked in she told me to take my clothes off and lay down on my back in the bath tub on the towels. When I was older she would just tell me (depending on what was going on) to meet her in the bathroom so she could give me enemas.

We came home from the school and saw the camomille tea is cooling down in the kitchen with that nice smell. We knew what will happen later in the afternoon.

My mother seemed to know, when an enema was needed for myself and siblings. Sometimes it once twice in week, other times 2-3 times during the month and as we got older. It was less. Some of the enemas I got were needed. I needed that good clean-out. Most were mom’s judgement call, I would say. You might get enema for attitude, behavior, not because you were necessarily bad, but the reason was inappropriate behavior meant you were probably constipated. If you ate a lot of junk food, if you had gas, if you came from school and were tired, or the simple question when was your last BM or did you try to go poop to were all lead-ins to getting the red bulb or the bag. When mom determined it was time, you get things ready and you were called in the bathroom to undress at least waist down. I got them in the OTK position bulb or bag until almost 12, then on the knees in the bathroom til 17. BTW, a rectal temp almost always preceded the enema. Also, need for enema was also sometimes determined by one of two aunts or my grandmother. If they determined it necessary, they gave me the enema or were present when it happened. Interesting discussion topic reading individuals post.

Greengodess do you still take enemas?

Yes I do. All three of us take them here. Sometimes which is most of the time there is four of us.

I remember I tried not to think about enemas. I didn't want to know when it was going to happen, like it didn't exist.

My parents always tried encouraging me to go by other methods, like eating certain types of food, etc.

I really didn't like going to the toilet cause it hurt. Maybe my poop was big for my butt or something like that cause I tried to push and things were really hard and painful. So when it was time due for an enema I would always be taken "by surprise".

My parents were very careful in doing it and sweet as well but I wasnt cooperative. If I knew it was about to happen I would go to the backyard to play hoping they wouldnt find me or forget about it. My dad would come, would take me over his shoulder, he was a very tall and big man. Then, in our bathroom he would sit over the toilet lid with me over his lap, my mom would drop my pants and squeez the bulb into my ass with me crying and kicking.

There was no delay because Mommy led me in by the hand

A 1950's product of enemas I have many recollections of the mixed dread / anticipation of moms enemas. Knowing that I was going to get one was always announced to any adults who happened to be near with" "I'm going to give Bobby an enema later. He's been constipated and needs a good cleaning out". Once announced, the treatment could occur at any time from an hour to early that evening with mom telling me to go into the bathroom and get ready. Upon entereing the room, the red combo bag, would be draped over the sink full & ready, the red ribbed tubing draped over the bowl with the black adult rectal nozzle glistening with a thick coat of Vaseline. Mom kept a large folded beach towel on the floor next to the radiator where dressed only in a T-shirt or P.J. tops I would lie face down to wait for the enema.

Nearly eight decades later I still get butterflies in my stomach reliving the experience. Mom placing the bag on the floor next to me as she lubed my rectum with her finger. The "goosy" feeling in my rectum as she inserted the nozzle, the audible click as she release the metal shut-off. The immediate gurgling surge of the soapsuds going in, then that brief moment before I would sense my belly beginning to swell.

Despite the the thousands of enemas I've experienced over the years, none measure up to those early ones from mom on the bathroom floor.

The enemas given to me by my mom that I would likely be able to recall some level of experience would have been from 1956 to 1960. After that, my mom and dad separated and divorced and I ended up living with my dad (that's a story unto itself) and my dad didn't give me enemas (even for punishment) and my mom didn't, either.

I don't think there was ever a wait. I think she took me to the bathroom when the enema was already prepared in a plastic bucket, she undressed me, laid me across her lap and slid the (colon) tube into me. Once the tube was in place, she held the tube and opened the clamp to allow the warm, soapy water to flow into me. I don't remember any stress. Rather, I have a rather fond view of those times with her. Ultimately, she would remove the tube after a liter or so of the enema solution had drained into me.

I remember sitting in the potty training chair, with the plastic bucket underneath and the plastic "pee shield" in front, to release the enemas and rinses and how "proud" and positive my mom was about what I expelled. Sometime in there, I must have changed to a red rubber bag for my enemas because years later, the first time I mixed up a hot soapy enema in a red rubber bag, I immediately recognized that scent and it took me back to an earlier time in my life.

@Electra said,

Despite the the thousands of enemas I've experienced over the years, none measure up to those early ones from mom on the bathroom floor.

With my siblings and I, it was our two young aunts. During the summer, when we at our grandmothers, they were responsible for our evening bath. Grandma had a big downstairs bathroom with a large walk-in dual head shower. Making it convenient for the girls to put us in the shower together. Once we were in the shower, both girls got in to keep order and bathe us. So, on evenings when we received enemas before our bath, like us, both girls were totally naked. But unlike mom, they gave us enemas laying across their lap, not laying across a bed. Getting enemas laying naked across our bed together was one thing, but getting enemas laying naked across a girl's bare lap was something else. It really felt naughty, but pleasurable at the same time. Giving me feelings deep inside, that I didn’t understand. Later realizing, I was getting turned on by enemas, before age ten. The combination of laying naked across their bare legs, while getting an enema with a curved douche nozzle, did something to both me and my brother, including our sister. We all liked enemas to start with, but getting an enema laying naked across a girl's bare lap, was something else again.

My early enemas were given to me in bed, that is, until I had an accident. Then enemas moved to the bathroom.

If I heard "I'm going to give you an enema today, it would take hours before it happened.

First of all, my mother would call my two aunts, and my grandmother to tell them I was getting an enema. Then she told me to take a nap, then go see if I could have a bowel movement. If I did have a bowel movement, I lied and said no. That assured an enema. The sound of the linen closet opening followed by running water, was exciting.

Then my mom entered my bedroom with a towel and a full enema bag.

The standard procedure was for me to take as much water as I could then I was excused to relieve myself, and then return to my room for the rest of the water in the enema bag.

The finale was when my dad came home, mom would tell him she gave men enema, at times mentioning I had a hard on.

"He still gets hard when he gets an enema"

My dad reassured her, "don't worry about it"

I think her giving me enemas gave her a sense of purpose, I think she had a medical fetish.

I think I became a Klismo at an early age.