an apology

CK posted 10 weeks 2 days ago —

I’m really sorry.

Don’t roll your eyes. I AM sorry. Let me explain.

First, I’m sorry for judging you. I know I said I wasn’t, but I totally was. I’m sorry for chipping away at your core with posts like >>this one<< in which I claimed that you expelled your gross factor, as well as part of your manliness after I did all the real work, birthing your child. I’m especially sorry for “grrrrr-ing” each time you pretended not to notice one of our rank children frolicking around the house in crappy pants and how you consistently pawned off the one dirty diaper you got stuck with each week.

Because now I understand. I finally get it. All because of:

Don’t worry. I haven’t bought new furniture. This belongs to the nursery I’ve been helping out in lately. And as you might imagine, part of “helping” is diaper rotation. Two weeks ago I got stuck changing the poopy diaper of a sweet, tiny child I didn’t know and it was so gross that I gagged. Not “gag-me-with-a-spoon” gag, but watching-someone-else-vomit gag.

And I continued to dry heave for a few minutes after I put her back down on the floor. For the rest of the shift I actively ignored any other child who smelled as though he/she might have a little somethin’ goin’ on in there. I was NOT the one getting paid to be there. I was just the HELPER.

And then this week when I found myself filling in again, this same adorable child took a man-size dump and wandered over to me to ask for a new diaper. This time when I changed her, my eyes teared and bile crept up the back of my throat. I actually had to step away from the changing table for fear that I would throw up on her. Thankfully she didn’t take the opportunity to escape, as TWO would’ve.

About twenty minutes later another kid had a sh*tty diaper. And it was a boy. Since I’ve never changed a poopy diaper with a penis in it, I just couldn’t do it. So I pretended he was fine. Wished a rash-free existence on he and his family. Waited for the woman in charge to notice. Which she did, God bless her. She changed his stinky behind without a complaint, although I think she might have “grrrrr-ed” at me. I’m not sure.

So like I said, I understand now and I’m sorry.

Because if I changed just one poopy diaper per week and was so wholly unfamiliar with the smell of our kid’s poop that it made me gag, I’d pawn it off on the nearest adult too. And if you stayed home with the kids and changed diapers all day long, I’d also say things like, “Daddy’s better at things like this,” and “What’s one more?” and then walk out of the room.

Because really, what’s one more?

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©2009 CEK. All Rights Reserved. Touch my stuff and you’d better watch your back. And your car. I don’t pelt with eggs, my friend. I’m packing heat. Hot, steamy, poopy diaper heat.
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