Parents obssessed with their childrens' bowel movements

My mom kept a close watch on my bowel habits, probably because I withheld if I was busy playing and that frequently led to my being constipated. When she would ask when I last moved my bowels, I knew what was in store for me. She would give me a dose of Milk of Magnesia and if that failed to work she would take me into the bathroom where she would get out the bulb syringe and Ivory soap as I sat on the toilet, straining to go in a desperate attempt to avoid the inevitable enema. I had to watch as she mixed up the soapy water and the scent of Ivory soap filled the bathroom. She would place the bowl of solution beside some towels laid out on the floor and spread Vaseline on the nozzle of the syringe. I was then placed face down on the towels and she would tell me that she was sorry she had to do this to me, but since the laxative hadn't worked, she was going to have to use the syringe on me to make me poop. When I heard the bubbling sound of her filling the syringe I knew that no matter how much I begged her not to use the syringe on me, I was in for one of her "good enemas". The syringing would begin and I knew that it wouldn't end until the bowl of soapy water was empty and I was full. After finally being allowed to expel I would be given another thorough syringing of plain water to rinse out the soapsuds. When it was finally over she would warn me that I needed to poop when I felt the need if I didn't want her to use the syringe on me again. Even though I hated those enemas I would eventually fall back into my old habits and find myself back in the bathroom with her syringing me again to clean me out. Throughout my childhood she continued to monitor my bathroom activities and I had many more encounters with her syringe.