The Diaper Geni-us
Corey is now 2½ and on the verge of being potty trained. I cannot tell you what a blessing is. Now, I certainly change a tenth of the diapers that his moms change, but let’s face it, diapers suck.
During our parenting experiences so far, Larry has managed to escape the diaper-changing process. In all fairness, he has put one diaper on Corey. I felt it important that he learn how the system works. “Do these Velcro things go in the front or back?” he asked. Then he attempted to wrap the ties so tight it resembled an 18th century corset.
Larry does help with the poopies. He won’t acknowledge them, mind you. Corey can enter a room, loaded for business and Larry will just pretend he doesn’t smell a thing. Or worse, he’ll say something noncommittal like, “I think the dogs have some gas.”
We’ve made a game of the poopy diapers; the turd shot-put. After removing the offending undergarment, it’s double wrapped in a plastic grocery sack and taken to the back porch. Where the driveway and alley meet, reside our garbage cans. From the porch above, Larry lofts the diaper and attempts to land it on one of the cans. No points are earned or prizes awarded; just the satisfaction of a job well done and a smell distanced.
For those attempting this at home, we recommend double bagging the excrement. One too many times we’ve learned that a heavy cargo combined with a lofted trajectory brings about disastrous consequences. And you think picking up after your dog is nasty?
This past weekend was again more learning opportunities in the toilet world. Capacity and water displacement are key issues that play games with the distracted parent. We hosted a BBQ on Saturday for about 20 people. By nature, our people are born entertainers and it is challenging to balance the aura of plate presentation with the responsibilities of fatherhood. There is not a parent out there who will not understand the phrase: “10 lb. diaper.”
For those unfamiliar with the concept, let’s just say that Huggies are so absorbent that urine will leak out the sides before getting the child wet. And nine hours of worrying more about pulled pork and cream puffs creates a diaper the size of a small ham. As you watch your child struggle to walk as this growth begins to take over his shorts, you realize that you won’t be chosen for the “Gay Daddy of the Year” award.
However my biggest dilemma came from those wonderful training devices called “pull-ups.” Day care has begun the process of potty training. (This to my mother’s chagrin since she often refers to Corey as a “Day-care baby” … as if was the equivalent being a Thalidomide child.) After picking Corey up from day-care on Friday, his ‘daily report card’ said he’d wore only his Blue Clues underwear and stayed dry for 4.5 hours. (This will lead into a later column on why adults can’t have characters on their underwear. Personally, I would choose the plumber from Desperate Housewives.)
Anyway, I was so proud of Corey that I changed his pull-up at home and instead of substituting it for a diaper, exchanged it for another one. He also insisted on having the Blue Clues underwear returned, so I crammed the pull-up into the underwear.
As if shit seeks out a fresh location, the pull-up was filled in 15 minutes. Carefully, I removed the pants and underwear to begin the changing process. Theoretically, these pull-ups are supposed to rip right off. Emphasize the word THEORETICALLY! UMM, they didn’t this time. Seriously, I’m not stupid, but these wouldn’t rip. And with this deposit, let’s just say you wouldn’t want a lot of fabric movement going on.
Without going into graphic detail, daddy got the pull-up off. It wasn’t pretty and I once again was reminded of the balance between too many fruits and not enough cheese.
The kid was happy five minutes later and this time the diaper went on for good. I have a new found respect for day-care workers because I once again could never get through this aspect of child-rearing.
I hear stories of kids who learn this potty process in like two days. I’m guessing that’s done separately from dinner party weekends.
During our parenting experiences so far, Larry has managed to escape the diaper-changing process. In all fairness, he has put one diaper on Corey. I felt it important that he learn how the system works. “Do these Velcro things go in the front or back?” he asked. Then he attempted to wrap the ties so tight it resembled an 18th century corset.
Larry does help with the poopies. He won’t acknowledge them, mind you. Corey can enter a room, loaded for business and Larry will just pretend he doesn’t smell a thing. Or worse, he’ll say something noncommittal like, “I think the dogs have some gas.”
We’ve made a game of the poopy diapers; the turd shot-put. After removing the offending undergarment, it’s double wrapped in a plastic grocery sack and taken to the back porch. Where the driveway and alley meet, reside our garbage cans. From the porch above, Larry lofts the diaper and attempts to land it on one of the cans. No points are earned or prizes awarded; just the satisfaction of a job well done and a smell distanced.
For those attempting this at home, we recommend double bagging the excrement. One too many times we’ve learned that a heavy cargo combined with a lofted trajectory brings about disastrous consequences. And you think picking up after your dog is nasty?
This past weekend was again more learning opportunities in the toilet world. Capacity and water displacement are key issues that play games with the distracted parent. We hosted a BBQ on Saturday for about 20 people. By nature, our people are born entertainers and it is challenging to balance the aura of plate presentation with the responsibilities of fatherhood. There is not a parent out there who will not understand the phrase: “10 lb. diaper.”
For those unfamiliar with the concept, let’s just say that Huggies are so absorbent that urine will leak out the sides before getting the child wet. And nine hours of worrying more about pulled pork and cream puffs creates a diaper the size of a small ham. As you watch your child struggle to walk as this growth begins to take over his shorts, you realize that you won’t be chosen for the “Gay Daddy of the Year” award.
However my biggest dilemma came from those wonderful training devices called “pull-ups.” Day care has begun the process of potty training. (This to my mother’s chagrin since she often refers to Corey as a “Day-care baby” … as if was the equivalent being a Thalidomide child.) After picking Corey up from day-care on Friday, his ‘daily report card’ said he’d wore only his Blue Clues underwear and stayed dry for 4.5 hours. (This will lead into a later column on why adults can’t have characters on their underwear. Personally, I would choose the plumber from Desperate Housewives.)
Anyway, I was so proud of Corey that I changed his pull-up at home and instead of substituting it for a diaper, exchanged it for another one. He also insisted on having the Blue Clues underwear returned, so I crammed the pull-up into the underwear.
As if shit seeks out a fresh location, the pull-up was filled in 15 minutes. Carefully, I removed the pants and underwear to begin the changing process. Theoretically, these pull-ups are supposed to rip right off. Emphasize the word THEORETICALLY! UMM, they didn’t this time. Seriously, I’m not stupid, but these wouldn’t rip. And with this deposit, let’s just say you wouldn’t want a lot of fabric movement going on.
Without going into graphic detail, daddy got the pull-up off. It wasn’t pretty and I once again was reminded of the balance between too many fruits and not enough cheese.
The kid was happy five minutes later and this time the diaper went on for good. I have a new found respect for day-care workers because I once again could never get through this aspect of child-rearing.
I hear stories of kids who learn this potty process in like two days. I’m guessing that’s done separately from dinner party weekends.
Labels: Corey
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