Boob,
boom, clap. Boom, boom, clap. Boom, boom, clap...
Ladies and gentleman! Welcome to the rumble to end all
rumbles! Two titans of time out meet up in the ring to finally
settle the score!
In this corner, weighing in at 121 pounds that is still
some baby weight so we will be patient with her and with two leaking
boobs... The mother of all smack downs... She loves to hear the
cheers, people... Mommy!
And in this corner, weighing in at 22 pounds, the baby
with the blue eyes that make all the girls swoon, the boy with the
golden smile and a diaper full of poo... Archer!
Ding, ding!
It is the unnerving, unpredictable and often very messy
dance of my people. The mommy/baby diaper change wrestling match and
it is not for the faint of heart, or anyone wearing white...
I still can't figure out how a child so small can be so
freakishly strong. It's like he sneaks out of bed at night to lift
free weights. I half expect to wake up one night to find him
flipping a huge tire down the hallway. His tiny, yet meaty little
arms and legs can absolutely overpower me regardless of how strong my
will is to not have poop smeared all over my carpet.
I can remember being at a music festival a month or so
after Archer was born. Jim and I standing, proudly showing off our
sweet little boy and enjoying the music and sun shine. My eyes
drifted to a mother, sitting in the grass struggling to hold on to
the foot of a small child who was naked from the waist down crawling
away from her while she attempted a diaper change. I knew I was
staring. Looking for way to long to be polite but I was amazed. I
couldn't look away. What the hell was going on here?! I was trying
to make sense of what I was seeing before me when she looked up at me
and apologized for the scene. “Oh no,” I quickly replied. “No
need to apologize. I feel like I am looking into my future.” She
glanced over at my tiny newborn, sitting quietly in my husband's arms, then gave me a knowing smile and I
felt a cold shiver run up my spine despite the warm August air.
Ever since that day, that terrifying scene has been
playing off and on in the back of my mind. I prayed that Archer
would be that rare baby who hates a dirty diaper more than a diaper
change. I often wondered when this hellscape phase of diaper changes
would begin for me. The day when I would finally have to pay the
piper. It seems like around 6 months old my little guy first
realized that the 30 seconds or so that it takes me to change his
diaper was just too long for him to be so bored, but at that point I
was mostly just avoiding getting kicked. He also discovered his pee
bug, which added an additional challenge to the mix that I had not
anticipated.
The real fun was yet to begin. As soon as he learned
how to roll over consistently it was game on. All of the sudden this
sweet little baby turned into the Hulk every time the yellow line on
his diaper turned green indicating that it was time for a change.
Ironically, this was also around the same time that he
started eating real food. Ever since, his poops have gone
from sweet, nearly odorless yellow baby poo to diapers that look like
an adult did his business in them. It is nature's cruel joke that
real poops coincide with diaper wrestling matches.
When Jim and I are together, we can work like a team and
while still remarkably challenging, a change without smearing human feces
around the house is totally doable. But it's a special kind of terror when you
look into a diaper and see poo brimming to the top and know that you
are going to have to face this disaster alone.
I usually start by talking to Archer, letting him know
that a diaper change is needed and letting him see the clean diaper
and wipes. In my mind, I feel like we should all be on the same page
now. Nope. Not at all.
I hold my baby boy up by his feet, in an attempt to
clean him and he counters me with an impressive display of core
strength as he twists his entire body around to face the floor,
leaving us playing a terrifyingly high stakes game of shit covered
wheelbarrow. With a panic stricken heart, I struggle to keep my wits
about me as I try to quickly but effectively clean that tiny,
absolutely adorable butt and wiener in mid air before he decides to
let gravity win. It's a pretty balanced struggle of at once trying
to overpower him while not popping any of his little limbs off in the
process and let me tell you, sometimes it is difficult to maintain
that balance.
The diaper changing process consists of flipping him on
his back while taking a few swipes with a wipe to which he screams
bloody murder and rolls over and crawls away, to which I flip
him back over and repeat the process, about five or six times. I am
generally a ball of sweat and he is usually into a full meltdown by the third pass.
I do usually remember to get a few wipes out of the pack
but nothing is worse than fighting to hold a poopy, hostile butt up
with one hand and struggling with a finicky pack of wipes with the
other. Wipes that get stuck in the pack are the bane of my
existence. If Archer's first phrase turns out to be, “son of a
bitch...” I will take full responsibility.
I toss the dirty diaper filled with soiled wipes aside,
which starts the next game, try to get the dirty diaper filled
with poop and dirty wipes to throw around. Regardless of how far
away I throw the old diaper, my son uses his go go gadget arms to
reach it with ninja speed and precision.
The switch to a clean diaper must be fast. All time is
precious. Diaper, diaper... A look of unbridled horror creeps over
my face and spills across my soul. I see the clean diaper. Still
perfectly folded up, fresh from the pack. Rookie mistake.
Amateur... I silently berate myself for such a stupid error.
I give in and let his newly cleaned bum touch the floor.
With this, Archer is off, naked butt and unholstered pee bug going
rogue. As fast as I can, I use both hands to open the clean diaper
while silently praying that he chooses to just hold his pee in until
I can catch him again. Chasing a naked baby is all giggles on both
sides, but carrying a kicking, screaming, flailing naked baby back
over to the changing pad is significantly less fun.
I've tried toys to distract him, I've tried diapering
him while he is standing up. Surprisingly, it can be done, but it's
tough to get a secure diaper that way and you risk a literal shit
show later when that half assed diaper job comes back to bite you.
In the long run it's worth the extra fight to get that sucker on
right. I followed the suggestions online. I try to include him in
the decision and the process. I've tried letting him hold a clean
diaper, but Archer likes to bite them and I am afraid of him eating a
diaper. Making him organic baby food then letting him eat disposable
diapers as a snack seems nuts. Same situation with him holding the package of
wipes. He chews through the plastic which is less than ideal.
I've recently tried holding him down with my feet which
was traumatic for us both. I've tried songs, funny noises (which
sometimes do work) and I had been giving him a small box lid to hold
which worked off and on until he started eating parts of it.
I do get a slight advantage however, when one of the
commercials that Archer likes comes on the television and for a
brief, shining moment it commands his full attention. Usually the
Blue Bunny ice cream commercial, any drug or lawyer commercial or a
handful of others that have songs that catch his attention all play
in my favor. With shaking hands and excitement built up in my chest,
I think “This is it! This is my chance!” Then, with the
pressured precision of a surgeon I quickly open each side tab to
secure the diaper around him.
The only risk here is a shaky hand slipping and losing
grip on a diaper tab. If it snaps him, the battle is back on full
force and he. Is. Pissed.
I win this battle. When the diaper change is over, I
let my little warrior stand up before I squeeze him up and kiss his
little cheeks. We call a truce for the time being. Until the next
time that the stench of poo fills the room and I tackle my little man
for a rematch. I continue to research techniques that could tip the
scale in my favor. Recently however, I came across a line that
stopped me dead in my tracks. “Toddlers like to play with their
own poop.”
So, you know... I've got that to look forward to...
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