Friday morning, after I’d handed Charlie off to his grandad and yelled across the house that I’d be leaving in three minutes, Grandad brings Charlie to me in the bathroom, where I’m slapping on my makeup. He holds Charlie out and says, “Can you check his diaper?” With my left hand covered in tinted moisturizer, I use the right hand to feel his diaper. Now I have tinted moisturizer on one hand and pooh on the other.
“Um, yes, that’s a poop diaper.”
“Okay,” Grandad says, as he holds Charlie out for me to grab.
“Do you need me to change him?”
“Yeah, I can’t change his diapers anymore. He moves around too much.”
I get half the thought out of “What do you mean you can’t change his diapers anymore? You’re a Green Beret; surely you can out-maneuver my 7-month-old,” before having the thought of, “Wait, that makes sense. It has become IMPOSSIBLE to change this child’s diaper.”
So I wash the pooh and makeup off my hands, take off my jewelry, put one of Andy’s old tee-shirts on over my dress, and start the bath (just in case). I take Charlie and wrestle him and his diaper while singing “The Diaper Changing Song.” We are victorious and there is minimal collateral damage, but I know we got lucky.
Monday morning, as I was once again getting ready to leave, Grandad brought me Charlie and said there’s been another poop diaper, but that he would take care of it. I continued doing my hair, but after some commotion went into the nursery to lend assistance. I came in to find Charlie upside-down, swinging back and forth while Grandad held him by the ankles. He was diaperless and poopy. Grandad’s forearms were covered in pooh, and there was a collection of a soiled diaper and poopy wipes in a variety of places that were not the inside of the diaper pail. Grandad was trying to reason with upside-down Charlie, who clearly found this to be an invigorating exercise. Charlie would not be reasoned with, and instead continued to swing by his ankles. With our forces combined, Grandad and I were able to get Charlie wiped and diapered successfully. When I came home from work that evening (fortunately a shorter work day than usual, due to a St. Patrick’s Day snow storm), Grandad was attempting to change Charlie’s diaper for the first time since I’d left the house that morning. Because changing his diaper is too hard.
This is a development in just the last week or so. Charlie has never been a giant fan of having his diaper changed, but it’s only recently that he can attempt to squirm his way out of it. For my own part, I’ve lately been changing him on the bed or floor, so that I can pin both his shoulders with my feet while I get the diaper off. I’ve also had limited success with changing him mid-nap. He wakes up while it’s happening, but if I move fast enough he’s too groggy to take evasive action.
If you have an amazing solution, please let me know. Otherwise, it’s a two-man job until Charlie comes to appreciate having clean pants. Unfortunately, declining to change his diaper until he outgrows this phase is not a viable option.
Seriously, Baby, how are you stronger than me?