The childhood ritual and routine

I remember so well the rituals and routine for "enema time" when I was a kid. If I felt sick or had a fever or was just "out of sorts" my aunt who raised me would usually remove all my clothes except my underwear, put me to bed, call the doctor, report what my condition was, and get his orders. Always, always, she would return to my bedroom with the message, "Dr. Hart said to give you an enema." I would know either to undress to my underwear if I hadn't been already and wait on the bed, or stay in bed while she prepared the enema and until she called me into the bathroom. When she said, "Come on in" I would go in, slip my underwear or pajamas off, always with an erection, and lie on my left side in the bathtub. She would reach over and spread my buttocks, insert the tube and click the clamp. I had to take all the water at once. The volume was usually a quart or a quart and a half. Neither of us ever said much during the enema. When she was finished, I would stand up in front of her and sit on the toilet. I was to wait until she came back to look at what I had "accomplished." I would either go back to bed or get another enema. Standing naked in front of her was very embarrassing. But needless to say, I enjoyed these experiences immensely. I usually had some reason once or twice a month.

In our house we would let our mom know that we did not feel well or had a tummy ach and then mom would say we needed and enema so go relax and she would make it.

during that time we would sob a little or protest that we didn't need an enema but that would not work and I would always wait for click and a tickle and loved it but was embarrassed that my peepee was stiff 😁

I think most moms, mine included, would be surprised if there wasn't a little protest before the enema bag or can went into action. As for the routine I could be sure of getting a soapsuds cleansing after being ill two days with no BM.

Wasn't predictability a real help in accepting the inevitable?

Ah.. the routine... I remember being around 7 or 8.. "Mommy, my tummy hurts... Wait one minute while I get ready was her reply.. in she would go to get the water in the sink and soapy.. she would run it until it was warm over an Ivory soap bar and then splash it around for some suds... "Come in dear" and she would be seated with a towel over her lap and the bulb enema ready... I would pull my pants down and over her knees I went .. she would draw the solution and lube the needle with pacquins.... first one then another.. I then got up and laid on the mat while "it" did its work... "Mommy PLEASE let me go" I would whimper.. Finally RELIEF... and then the rinse.. 😃

It was always the same when I was little. My mother would notice that I hadn't had a bowel movement for a couple of days and I would be given some prune juice. After no results I would be given a dose of laxative, Usually MOM. After that failed to work I would be called into the bathroom where I could smell the strong scent of Ivory soap as I entered. The bulb syringe and a jar of vaseline would be on the counter. A bowl of Ivory soapsuds would be on the floor beside a towel. I was then undressed and placed face down on the towel. No matter how much I protested I knew an enema was inevitable. My mother would lubricate the nozzle with Vaseline, all the while telling me that she was just doing this for my own good and that I would feel all better after it was over. I remember the bubbling sound of the syringe being filled. She would spread my butt cheeks with one hand and insert the nozzle up my ass as I let out a cry. Next I would feel the soapsuds squirting up into my bowels as she squeezed the bulb forcefully, telling me she had to get it up inside of me enough to clean me out. The syringe would be removed, refilled and the process repeated. With each syringe full I would plead for her to stop, that I had to go and that I couldn't take any more, but she would continue syringing me, telling me that if I didn't take enough to make me go that she would have to start all over again and that she knew I didn't want that. After she had squirted enough of the soapy water up my butt to satisfy her she would squeeze my cheeks together to help me hold it in, telling me that I had to hold it long enough to let the soapsuds do its work and really clean me out. After a few minutes of suffering through the cramps she would put me on the toilet where it would all come gushing out. The cramping during the expulsion was terrible. After I had rid my bowels of all the stuff that had me constipated I would be placed back on the towel and she would use the syringe on me some more to rinse out the soapsuds with plain warm water. I would then be placed back on the toilet to expell and she would check the results to make sure that I was thoroughly cleaned out. Satisfied, she would clean up the syringe and put everything away while I sat there sobbing and squirting the last of the water out of my butt. I would be warned that if I could expect another syringing if I didn't keep myself regular. In a few weeks I would find myself constipated again and the ordeal would be repeated.

Whenever the doctor came to our house for a house call as soon as he left my mother would give me an enema which I hated. Many times my older sister would have to hold me down while my mother gave me the enema consisting of hot water and ivory soap. She would hold the bag too high and I could never hold the liquid. I would kick and scream but after several attempts and being held down I finally took the bag full which was only about a little over a quart. When I finally realized that no matter what I did I was still going to get the enema I stopped resisting and just got it over with. I received enemas from my mother until I was about 15.

I always had to be held down when mom gave me an enema as a child, I hated them and always resisted. I would crawl under the bed and had to be dragged out. I yelled, kicked and fought to no avail either my older sister or my father held me down while mom gave me the enema always with the bag. I must admit after being given one or two enemas I always felt better. When I was in the first grade I finally stopped resisting and submitted just to get it over with.

Mom used the same routine most of the time, or just about the same routine. When she showed others how to do it she did it the same way. I had to have enema's from very little up because of allergies, bad allergies. Because of that I was use to getting them and to make things easier on Mom, Dad made a special chair for her to give them to me. It was much easier on her and for me as well. Mine were to get rid of acid carry over from being alergic to so many types of food, so only plain warm water was used. Mom used a the Bucket and Hose because while most kids got Enema's for bowel movements, mine where to keep the acid content down. So while you may of had the Bulb, I got the Large Hose with a lot of water to clear out things out. Looking back now, I sort of feel sorry for Mom because she had to give so many enema's to me and it took up a lot of her time even when she did not feel like doing it. She trained neighbors and freinds how to take care of my enema needs for those times though. But we moved around quite a bit so she was always showing someone new how to do it. But moving on, Mom usally did them the same way. I was put in the special chair, harnessed up, because I could not hold my legs up for a long time and it was much easier on me and much more confortable. So get your mind out of the gutter. Mom liked the Knee's to the Chest position, and the chair was made in such a way that while I was half sitting half laying in it. Once harnessed up she got he warm water in a gallon pitchure, set by the chair and the bucket. Then she Loosened me up with her finger to relax the sphincter, some it went fast other times it took me a while to get relaxed. She started the hose in till it started to be harder to push in, then she put the water in the bucket, lifted it up and hooked it on the hook. With the water flowing inside me she would slowly incert the amount of hose that was needed while the wtaer opened me up making it easier for the hose to go in. Because mine were for the acid the hose had to go in a long way, not just a little way like most people got. She called them high colonic for she said she had to get way up in the colon to clear out the acid. I would be expelling water even though the hose still had to go in some more.

Maybe I am funny but I had rather have the hose than the craps that burned my leggs with the acid. Yes the craps, allergies gave me the uncontrolable craps, and if I could not make it to the bath room and had a accident it would give me a chemical burn because of the acid content. With the enema's I did not have the cramps either, so I did not have a problem taking my enema. Most kids got a enema once or twice a month, some once a week, I got them daily not to long after ever meal. I had rather have a enema that the allergery shots that came when I got a little older. The shots helped me to get over the allergiers, but when that happened the craps slowed down but then I would start getting plugged up like other kids, so I still got enema's.

I had enemas, suppositories, and laxatives since an infant. I have intertines which have sharp bends catching matter in those areas. I also have a lazy colon. I hated getting the treatments and fought it off till around age 7. At that time I moaned and complained. I got my last enema at age 14. A few years later I started giving them to myself.

Growing up I was probably just at the end of the "golden era", but still got my share of enemas as did most of my friends. If I was home sick from school, constipated, or the doctor said that I needed an enema, I would soon be on the receiving end of the family's enema bag. Admittedly, it was a great deterent for keeping us from faking an illness so we could stay home from school because mid morning mom would get out the enema bag, Ivory soap, and jar of Vaseline.

Childhood rituals and routines were certainly alive and well at my house. The enema was my mom's favorite remedy for what ever ailed us, herself included. Anytime I had a cold, fever or whatever, out came her red enema bag and I was on the receiving end of it for a good tummy washing with several good old soapy enemas followed by the requisite plain water rinses. Doctors, of course, back in the 40's and 50's were quick to prescribe an enema or two for any illness and my mother never waited for the doctor's prescription of enemas, she went right ahead and gave them to me before calling the doctor to make an appointment if she thought that was necessary. I also got regular enemas as I was constipated most of the time anyway.

Growing up in the 50's meant that the bowel habits of my sister and me were closely watched and any missed days were addressed quickly. Miss one day and a large dose of MOM with cookies was your prize. If that didn't work than the next day a supp went up the chute as soon as we got home from school. Claiming to have gone at school didn't mean anything. Only a BM at home counted. If by bed time the supp was not effective than out came the big red bag. Mom only liked the lap position even though we were to big to do it that way and not slide off, so when one of us needed an enema the other would help by making sure the one receiving didn't slide off. This worked well mon-fri but if one of usgot a weekend watering than mom figured since the bag was out the other got one followered by taking one herself. All this togetherness ended when my sister started developing breasts and growing hair down there as all enemas were given naked followed by an immediate bath/shower.

Back in the "good old days," when we lived on the farm where there was little exposure to the outside world, enemas during the summer were given by the outhouse which was about 30 yards from the house late Saturday afternoon. And all us kids got them at the same time, the same way. Mom had her 12-ounce bulb syringe and a 10-quart bucket of soapy water to tend to the three of use. We were told simply to undress, hang our clothes on the nails on the side of the outhouse, bend over and take what mom delivered.

Even when Sis and I were in HS, the ritual was just the same ... and we didn't think anything of it.

We would undress ... she would bend over, hands on her knees, legs spread, mom would lube the nozzle, insert it the first time very slowly, and squeeze gently. She repeated this several times, then made my sister stand for a while as I got my enema the same way. Obviously I watched her as she got the enema, she watched as I got mine ... and my little sister, two years younger than me, was always last. Because we had a two-holer, often times my sister and I ended up sitting side-by-side in the outhouse, expelling.

Mom usually gave a second round of soapy enemas until the water was all used up, then refilled the bucket with clear water, and administered dtwo or three rinse enemas.

People today question everyone usuing the same enema equipment ... back then we had one syringe, plenty of petroleum jelly, and obviously plenty of water. The enema process for the three of us usually took about an hour or so.

After supper, usually about 7 p.m., we took our Saturday baths, also outside, all at the same time, washing each other's backs.

Life was so different, so much more simple back then, and obviously, a lot more innocent.

Until after high school, I sometimes wondered why my sister occasionally didn't get her enema on Saturday. That's how innocent the world was.

Until I was eight years old I was given enemaswith a 4oz bulb. My mother would have me across her knees and then would squirt at age 8 four or five bulbs up my rear. One day as she was giving me one she told me the next time I needed to be emptied I was getting my enema from the bag. I knew my two older brothers got theirs that way but since infancy I was filled with the bulb. Then one day some weeks later my mother told me to come into he bathroom with her. I was surprised to see my 12yo brother there without any clothes on. The enema bag was hanging from the towel bar and there was a towel spread on the floor. My mother told my brother to get down. And he lay on the floor on his back and pulled his legs back. My mother pushed opened the clip and let some enema out and then closed it and pushed the pipe up my brother's rear and opened the clip and filled him with an enema which was about a quart and a half. After my brother emptied I was told that I was cranky yesterday and an enema would do me good. Take off your clothes. All of them. Yes. Like your brother. She told my brother to hold the bag as she poured more enema into it. i was ordered to get on the floor like my brother. My mother told him to hold me ankles so I wasn't shaking all over the place. She got the pipe in me and I did #2 as I never had done before in my life. A auart enema really cleaned out an eight year old.

I really love the use of the word "inevitable" in these posts. I often knew hours in advance that my mom was going to be giving me an enema. The mixture of nervousness and dread was palpable. I'd be a nervous wreck just thinking about all my previous enemas and dwelling on how humiliated and uncomfortable I was going to be before this day was over.

But I see now there was a part of my mom that somehow enjoyed my anxiety and nervousness and allowed me to as she would say "prolong the inevitable". I see now for my mom my making excuses and offering every reason I could think of why I didn't need an enema was arousing to her. "Yes Steven we can wait a bit longer.... But I just want you to know you are simply "prolonging the inevitable"!

Anhui to relive one of those long nervous days again!

Yahoo ID: nj_hubby_in_chastity

Usually Sat. nite around 7-8 P.M. My sis and I would be told that it was time for our enemas. When younger, Sis and I would get them together. OTK with the red bulb. Sis went first and while she was on the toilet, i got mine. When Sis got older she would get hers before I got called in, and given my enema. Enemas were a regular thing in our family and we were given enemas until early teens when we started giving to ourselves.

Ahh Yes....Listening to the Lone Ranger on saturday nite radio and getting our weekly enemas..whether we needed them or not was the schedule & routine for us...'the 50's generation.' That Red 2 Quart Closed End Bag, White Hose And Black Pipe ..A Bar of Ivory Soap was being melted ...no not in a microwave but in a sauce pan..and that jar of vasolene or crisco were all waiting for us! My aunt had her own special bag...that 50's BF Goodrich Amber Sojourn with amber hose and black douche pipe that expanded to I think 3 quarts....confession time.....I did sneak into her hall closet from time to time to use this syringe as I was getting sexually aroused with the feel and scent of this bag and I liked watching the bag empty into me....ohhh to have this vintage classic sojourn again! Wonder what would be the price for it today? Comments Please!

The ritual was always the same. Led up the stairs to the bathroom, sit on the toilet and try to push out as much poop as possible.It was never enough for my aunt. She would go down the stairs, open the fridge and get the bottle of suppositories.

then it was face down across her lap and the ice cold suppository was inserted ..followed by her very large adult size index finger. After the suppository was given time to work (15 minutes or so) out came either the red bulb syringe with the black nozzle (I think this was the 8oz kind..or the red rubber 2 quart enema bag with which would be filled completely with a hot, soapy (ivory) solution.

Mom just said that she was going to give me an enema. I knew that in a few minutes I would be on my back on the bathroom floor with a load of soapsuds going up my ass.

Enemas were frequent up to the age of 7 or 8. Always two bags given and always could not flush after the 2nd enema until inspected. And, always soapsuds. I would lie on my back with the bag on a hook on the wall near the bed. My mom always gave them and always ignored my pleading to stop the flow and take out the nozzle.

I wish when I was growing up I had an "enema time". I would love for my mommy and daddy to give me a hot soapy enema, while I'd be squirming and wriggling trying to get away.

Growing up in the 1950s enemas were the remedy of choice. My sisters and I usually received an enema during an illness or for constipation. The enemas were given in the kitchen as a bathroom was located just down a hallway.

The enemas were given in the morning usually right after breakfast. Mom didn't care if any one else was in the kitchen when me or one of my sisters was to be given an enema. Mom always used a bulb syringe as she like having control over the flow. Mom would place us over her lap and the enema would be given slowly with as much soapy water our bowels could take. The enemas were large and very effective and each of us received at least one per month.

To this day I remember my enemas and seeing my sisters receive theirs.

Kathy1949, My homelife was much the same. Our enemas were given on either Friday or Saturday evening. Mom always carried the enema bag when traveling. She felt regular bowel movements were important to good health. If we did have the flu, it was rare, we were cleaned out eating only chicken soup and receiving warm enemas until we were better.

Although I did get an enema from Mom or Dad alone on occasion, my usual childhood enema routine involved both parents. I would be told at suppertime that I was going to be given an enema before bed. That gave some time for me to eagerly anticipate the treatment. Daddy usually filled the bag with warm water running over a bar of Ivory soap. Momma helped me undress and got me to kneel down on all-fours on a towel. She would lubricate both the nozzle and me with cold cream and then gently insert the nozzle. Daddy held the bag up and and manipulated the clamp.

My enemas were always given gently and lovingly. There was no force or insistence that I take more than was comfortable. I was encouraged to retain the enema for as long as I could but the time was not measured.

The enema bag was always hanging by the food in the bathroom and w knew it was enema time

It's always fun to recall mom's enema rituals. My early memories of several bulb enema sessions are as vivid as if they were yesterday. Enemas were given frequently and I believe her ritual helped me to relax and submit willingly to the procedure. Beginning with the removal of all clothes, as being totally naked was the only acceptable way to have a good enema. I would sit on the toilet and watch mom prepare the hot soapy solution in the sink and draw the water up into the bulb. A towel was draped over the closed toilet seat cover and I was instructed to get into position by laying over it. Sittting on a small stool next t the toilet, she'd spread my cheeks open and slide the lubricated nozzle into my fanny until I could feel the bulb pressing against me and then slowly spray the entire bulbful into me. All the while she would be talking to me, telling my how good I was going feel after the enema, to squeeze real tight so I wouldn't leak, and how I was taking such a good enema for her. After she removed the bulb she would ask me if I could take another. If I answered yes I would remain in position while she refilled the bulb. Her bulb enema sessions consisted of one or two bulbfulls, expell, then one or two more. Just when I was getting real comfortable with her bulb sessions, she graduated me to the big bag and so began another ritual.

The day when I was shown the entire enema bag set up, I knew that I had graduated from the bulb syringe.

For me it wasn't golden until strange feelings developed in my genitals. Then it was GOLDEN for sure.

My enemas as a child were never "routine or scheduled events", but occurred when I had been sick for a few days with the flu, or whatever crud I had. The folks just thought that a good warm Ivory soap suds enema would be good for me, and perhaps help me get over whatever ailment I had. My Mom was always very gentle with them, and I never minded receiving enemas back then, even though I was too young too appreciate the erotic aspect of them. I do recall that I thought they felt kind of good as I layed naked on a towel on our heated bathroom floor, with the small, well lubed enema nozzle in my butt, and the enema slowly filling me up. If it got uncomfortable, I would tell my Mom, and she would stop the flow for a bit, until I was ready to receive more. I guess, because enemas were never a negative experience for me, I was more than anxious to try them solo when I went into puberty, and have been enjoying them ever since. Unfortunately, still solo, even though I'm married today. No interest on the part of my "other half".

I never knew when mom would give me an enema. I was never constipated: I just squatted for her and took some warm soapy water. Maybe she loved doing me but never showed it. I grew to want the enema of course and as so many here sneaked her stuff.

I doubt she ever knew of my reaction as I was very careful. Yet the bag, tubes, nozzles were left in the hall closet drawer ready for action.

I knew when I was getting any enema because mom would come into the room with a bag full of soapy water and a jar of vaseline and say "I'm going to give you your enema now".