The One With The Diaper Dance
More diapers, I thought, staring at the latest package delivered by the unsung workforce of the internet Gods.
When did I order? Did I order? Hard to remember amidst the parenting marathon. I checked the name on the box, it was my wife’s name. Thankfully, that, I remember.
Yet another delivery and another chunk of our dwindling savings vanishing from the bank account. If I had invested some of this diaper money in Bitcoin, we would probably be living in a mansion by now. And changing diapers in a mansion, complete with a dedicated diaper-changing room with a view, seems much better than doing so in a suburban rented apartment aptly called a ‘flat’.
Would, Could, Should
When it came to changing diapers, my wife initially doubted whether I would do it. Can’t blame her, even I doubted myself. However, for me, it wasn’t ‘would’ but ‘could’. If I could, then I would, for it's something that I should. And when the time came, thankfully, I could.
The Learning Curve
But first, like an eager apprentice, I had to observe my wife closely. Who taught her? I don't know! Maybe she was born with a secret diaper-changing gene. But that takes away from the incredible effort, both conscious and subconscious, she undoubtedly poured into mastering the art of diaper changing. And I am eternally grateful that she learned it so that I could learn it from her.
Ideally, I should have asked her about her learning curve but there were other things higher-up on the priorities list, like paying for the diapers, and of course ensuring the baby was fed, clothed, and not screaming. So, we might have skipped that discussion. Or maybe we did discuss; she in her sleep-deprived state and I in my exhausted mode. And I forgot. In that case, I apologise. In fact, apologising has been a default state for me because the effort required to remember also adds to the exhaustion.
Paradox Of Parenthood
The past year has been like a daze but with some dazzling baby-related memories. A constant state of exhaustion punctuated by moments of pure, unadulterated love. That’s the paradox of parenthood, I guess.
Baby Houdini
Initially, surprisingly, changing diapers was not that tough. The baby was small and so was the quantum of the poop. It was a matter of distracting her with some singing, toys, etc., and the deed would be done. But then she started crawling.
In the crawling phase, changing diapers was akin to wrestling while keeping your opponent entertained. While this seems like a good idea for a new WWE show, it was tough, especially when doing it at 3 am!
I remember one such night/early morning when I had to change the diaper. I changed it once, because it had been a while since the last change. Just as I finished changing, baby bowels bombed. So, I had to change again. And then, just as I was congratulating myself on my efficiency, baby bowels bombed bombastically. Time to change, again. Fortunately, there was no further bombing otherwise I would have had to wear a diaper on my head to soak the tears from my drooping eyes.
When she became confident of crawling, I had to think twice before moving my eyes away from her to fetch a wet wipe or to throw away the used diaper because when unattended, baby Houdini used to just vanish from the scene!
Diaper Dance
Now, when she is a toddler, it is more like a dance. Both of us have learnt from our past and now it is about performing the routine to perfection.
She looks at the diaper box and realises it’s time for a diaper change,
So, she runs away like a ballet dancer with impressive range.
I catch hold of her and gently place her on the mat,
She waves her hands above elegantly and I place props in them, sometimes toys and sometimes a hat.
She plays with the toy, while giving me time to change the diaper,
But, in a surprising act, to not let the dance become boring, she twists and turns becoming hyper.
And then I sing to calm her down, while her twinkling eyes admire the toys,
Then the job is done, and the princess happily toddles away with poise.
When she is just not in the mood for this dance, I choose the easy route by going for the pant-style diaper, which comes with its share of problems. This type of diaper is easy to put on but not good at keeping things intact. Leakage is a constant threat that can lead to the extra inconvenience of changing her entire outfit. Thankfully, it has not happened with me but seems like a statistical inevitability, like it unfortunately did with the better half.
Sleep Mode
I still have to learn a lot from my wife about changing the baby’s diapers, for she has done it a lot more than me and reached a level that I aspire to. Now, it feels like an automated process for her where she can even change diapers in her sleep. And going from how sleep-deprived she is, there’s a high chance she might have changed the diaper in her sleep! By saying this, I am not taking anything away from her; after all, a lot of effort goes into making something look effortless!
No Chance
But there’s one occasion when I simply refuse to change the diaper. It’s when I have taken a bath and dressed up to leave for work. That’s one time when I don’t want to take any chances with baby bowel bombing.
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Dude, that Would, Could, Should paragraph was awesome! You're a great writer and I love seeing something so heartfelt and real about the day-to-day joys and beauty of fatherhood.