Son....You Are Not R. Kelly

Ahhh yes, the diaper change.  That small piece of fabric that is attached to your child that is “supposed” to catch the end result of the formula & breast milk he previously consumed. There are many factors that go along with the diaper change as I quickly realized. Lets begin:

I diapered (I think that’s a word) my 1^st kid during a parenting class. It was a doll. The doll didn’t move, didn’t scream, just laid there as I practiced putting on & taking off the diaper. Easy enough right? Wrong. Dead wrong. It all starts with the “boo boo face”. That face he makes when  he’s doing his business right in your lap and you just have to wait until it’s over. Once the forehead lines disappear and the face relaxes, the eyes get wide like “oh no, Dad is about to change me! Not that,  please anything but that.” The walk to the bedroom for him is like a death row inmate headed to the electric chair. If he would have just gone to the toilet like a normal person we wouldn’t have these problems, but Cameron is only 2 weeks, so I digress.

The Boo Boo Face

I like to work left to right & there’s a method to my madness. Wipes, clean diaper, Vaseline, plastic bag for the dirty diaper. I lay him on a towel and thus begins…..”The Staredown”. We stare at each with sort of a Clint Eastwood “Go ahead, make my day” approach, and his brown eyes appear to say “Ok dad, let’s talk about this, if you don’t change me now, I’ll only poop when Mom has me.” Sidenote: I considered it. Remove the t-shirt, undo the diaper & we’re off! Now I know I have to work with the speed & precision of a Daytona 500 pit crew changing tires. My son is wet, cold, & naked and this diaper smells like he’s fought traffic to & from work and had a hard day in between…..and then it happened. 

The Staredown

HE PEED ON ME! Short warm bursts, but still. I was involuntarily urinated on. What did I do to deserve this? I pay my taxes, I obey all traffic lights, I only marginally embellish on my resume. Why me? I looked at my sweet , innocent, beige child and said “Son, you are not R. Kelly.” You just can’t pee on people when you’re mad. And I can’t return the favor because there’s laws against that sort of thing. Again, I digress. New diaper applied, pacifier inserted. And how does he thank me? Keeping us awake until 315 am. Well played my boy, well played. *Slow claps*

Until next time…..

The Calm aka 315am