by Amy Thompson

Created on: November 22, 2009

Diaper Doodee

Is it a boy or a girl? Should I buy pink or blue? What a miracle; a baby being born. It's such an awesome and wonderful occasion. My heart is made full, because of all the smiles and laughter, memories and tears. New babies can bring healing to families and friends. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside; until I pull my head out of the clouds and come back to reality. Babies stink, and so do their diapers. Speaking of diapers, there is an art to changing them.

I remember just like it was yesterday. I had changed a diaper here and there for my sister's children, but I had no idea those sweet little babies could be so disgusting. I learned a lot about life just by changing my son's diapers. Let me just tell you, changing a diaper is a tedious chore. It is very involved and it's just plain nasty. I have always been able to find a little bit of humor in everything, so I've even found humor in changing diapers. However, I can attest that humor isn't the only thing I've found inside those little white wrappers.

First, I would notice a putrid smell wafting from my child's backside. Then I would roll my eyes and gag, and yes, this is something that happened every single time. (My mother and grandmothers laughed at me incessantly, as if they were hyenas laughing over a dead water buffalo.) So, I would take my little bundle of joy to the nursery, dreading the task at hand. I would put the stink bomb on the changing table and make sure he wouldn't fall off. Then I would prepare my tools, instruments, and paraphernalia as if I was about to change a tire or insert a needle for some intravenous fluids. It was a very involved process that meant washing my hands, drying them, getting out a dry diaper and opening it; then opening the baby wipe warmer for easy access, and getting out a change of clothing for the wee one. Next I would make sure that the alcohol and Vaseline were handy, as well as the powder and lotion; because I did not want to be caught unprepared for an emergency. Sometimes I would soak a cotton ball with alcohol, and wipe my face with it before I began my task ahead. It was more pleasant to smell rubbing alcohol than it was to smell the diaper's contents. Vaseline, I guess I had it because my mother always did. As for the powder and lotion, well, it made the little lad smell heavenly. Meanwhile, I would have to lay out every possible diaper rash ointment I had, and I had them all: Desitin, Balmex, Boudreaux's Butt Paste and even the

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