The ritual

How did the process start did mom boil water and add soap to ready the enema solution or mix the solution in the bathroom sink ?. Of just add soap to the bag and fill it from the tub ? Did she hang the bag from the shower or towel rod or did she hold the bag and squeeze it like my mom did? Did you have to set there and watch the process or was the equipment hanging and ready. Did the enemas happen in the bathroom or other locations in the house and what positions where used.? How many enemas in a session and where you exposed to colon tubes ,douches nozzles or douche nozzles bulbs or colon tubes ? We all had different experience what where yours ?

Plastic enema bucket with vinyl rectal catheter. Solution mixed up in bucket and put on the bathroom counter. I was put on my side.

My enemas were always given in the bathroom. I would hear my mom filling the bag with tap water from the tub spigot. Nothing was added to the water. She used one of the amber latex translucent travel syringes. When I was called into the bathroom, the bag was already hanging on the shower curtain rod. The tubing that had come with the syringe was long enough to extend onto the floor of the tub. An infant rectal tip was fitted on the end of the tubing. That changed to an adult rectal tip when I was about 10. The douche tip was never used on me.

I was asked to remove my clothing from the waist down and was then placed on my left side in the tub with my knees pulled up to my chest. She gave me anywhere from 2/3 to 3/4 of the bag. Only one enema was given. My mom always checked my results in the toilet after I finished evacuating and was satisfied that the enema had worked sufficiently. My first multi-enema session was a self administered enema at age 14. I had been backed up for a week and my dad told me to keep repeating the enemas until I could hold the whole bag. I think I did four that morning.

I remember time(s) when sitting for too long in the bathroom I'd hear the clanking of the metal pot going on the stove. I knew what that meant and what was in store for me... ENEMA! Water would be heated up and allot of Ivory Flakes were mixed in to dissolve.. Invariably, the mix was too hot and had to cold - so I'd have to wait, all the while knowing what was coming...

So many questions, but here it goes.

I received little to no advance notice that I was going to get an enema. Mom would retrieve the bag from the linen closet, go into the bathroom, close the door, and prepare the bag of warm soapy water. Normally she would use a saucepan from the kitchen, fill it with warm water and then make it soapy from the bar of Ivory. It would be poured into the bag, the rectal nozzle was normally already attached, the stopper with the hose would be screwed in, and the bag hung from a hook on the back of the door. Only then would I get called, but usually that was the notice--I seldom got called to the bathroom for any other purpose. I'd be told to take my pants off, which was normally my PJs and lie over her lap. When a bit older a bath towel was placed over the edge of the tub and I'd position myself butt up. The preferred lube was always Vaseline and the bag would usually be mostly full. I didn't necessarily have to take the whole bag but only what mom considered to be enough. The clamp would be shut but the nozzle left in me until I was allowed to release the enema. Whatever the quantity it sure cleaned me out and there was only ever one enema for a session. Never repeated bags or even a clear rinse.

Most of my enemas were given in bed with me curled up on my left side on a plastic sheet covered with a towel. My Mom prepared the enema in the kitchen in a 2 qt. pitcher, putting in hot water from the tap just warm enough to sting on the inside of her wrist and stirring a bar of Ivory soap in it until it was milky with suds on top. She carried the filled enema bag into my bedroom and hung it from a hook on the cupboard door that opened towards my bed. She placed the empty pitcher on a TV tray next to my bed along with the jar of Vaseline that she used to lubricate the nozzle. She also brought in a wooden stool from the kitchen and placed a chamber pot on it for me to expel the enema into. After expelling air from the tube into the pitcher she pushed the lubricated nozzle into my rectum, opened the clamp, and let the soapy water start flowing into my bowels while holding my buttocks tight together. She never stopped the flow until the enema was all in me, just telling me to take slow deep breaths through my mouth when I complained that it hurt or was giving me cramps. Once the enema was finished she removed the nozzle but then squeezed my buttocks tightly together and set a kitchen timer for 5 minutes before she let me get up and sit on the chamber pot to expel the enema. Once I was finished expelling she had me lift up slightly, wiped my butt with some tissue and then examined the results to decide whether that was good enough or whether she needed to give me another enema. She was usually satisfied, but a few times she gave me a second enema that seemed soapier than the first and she made me hold it for 10 minutes to make sure it did its job. She never gave me a rinse enema. Occasionally if I was up and around she would give me the enema in the bathroom with me laying in the same position on a towel on the bathroom floor and she would let me expel it in the toilet but tell me not to flush so she could check the results.

I did not see how my mom filled the bag. But we had a hook on the wall she hung it on. It was ready when she called me in. It was a little weird maybe or maybe not. The hook was positioned between the toilet and the tub. Because when she gave me my enema she sat on the toilet.

Oh yeah and I only had one enema from her when I was nine. My sister got a lot.

Our bathroom lav had separate hot and cold faucets. Mom used the tub to fill her amber latex bag for my enemas. I knew I was in for an enema because the tub valves squeaked when turned. Ivory soap slivers were kept in a peanut butter jar filled with water, the thick goo was added to the enema bag. The bag was either hung from the medicine cabinet knob or from the towel bar at the end of the bathtub. She used the bat shaped rectal tip for my enemas, child size then adult size when I was older. Some times naked or wearing a PJ top, over her towel covered lap as she sat on the edge of the tub. I got one enema per session, no rinses. The cleaned enema bag and hose were hung from the clothes rack above the tub to dry. I witnessed the preparation during the infrequent maintenance enemas I got, which happened after my bath.

It looks like we all are having great memories of our early days over mom’s lap. I was just looking forward to the next enema. What a thrill.

I remember Mom warming water on the stove and adding soap to it. Specifically I remember one time when I asked what she was cooking she “I know you’re not going to like this, but it’s warm, soapy water. I’m going to give you an enema”. My knees about buckled but I didn’t have a choice. We headed to the bathroom where the empty bag hung by the toilet. She told me to undress and have a seat on the toilet. I always got my enemas completely naked sitting on the toilet. Mom used a white douche nozzle. She would fill the pink bag with the soapy water and proceed to clean me out.

The early family enema was more like a swimming party, with beer for the adults. Kids did not like beer, nor feel any resentment for not getting any. I hated the stuff, but really enjoyed getting squirted up the butt and giving you a nice friendly squirt. We were way back off the road and our pump was behind the barn and chicken coop. When friends or family showed up, they always began by blowing a car horn several times and waiting to see which direction we came out from. My first 10 years were without telephone nor much social contact with people outside family and very close neighbors a quarter mile out..

The enema was a game they taught us on hot summer afternoons. Then in my 40s i learned this was something both parents enjoyed with family and friends during the 1930s. One of my dad's brother's embarrassed their two sisters by telling the stories at family gatherings. They had a water well way out in the field for crops. I don't know how the parties got started, or how word got out, but he would tell of squirting contests and big belly shows-offs, along with catch and squirt. Mother's people did not do that, but her and her little brother being the youngest of 12, found themselves ignored and left alone to themselves a lot, while their parents struggled during the great depression of the 1930s in the USA. The enema was like an automatic diversion between the two of them. Their enema beginnings were never discussed as dad's were. But the two of them would comfort one another with fondling and an enema tummy, as mom confessed at one of dad's family gatherings. We used to have a few photos of dad sporting a big enema tummy for the camera, too.

I remember winter treatments as a production affair that seemed to be part of our family bond, in the dead of winter. Every one got some with tender loving honor. So, they had two sides. I remember they had the honored red bag and fat black bone, as it was called, made of "bakelite" an early form of plastic, before there was plastic. Out doors in the summer, and indoors with news paper spread out for the receiver to lay on. We only had one indoor faucet. So, yes the winter solution was a large production on stove top with a milk thermometer floating in it. Before having toilet paper, they were proud owners of a proper red Kant-leak enema set. When i got the idea of working it for myself, i was nervous and being bold with the family secret. Wait a minute, you are reasoning about the family parties. Those were done with either a douche bulb or just backing up to the pump spill pipe just enough to get a squirt and a squeal. When they got a real Sears and Roebuck bag and hose, it was brought out, but was too formal for the fun we used to have. Except for the parents, they could really show off with a little inebriation. We tried it, of course, but there was just not enough hoot-n-holler!