When As Parents, You Decide to Keep Driving for 2 More Hours After Your Kid Makes a Poopy Diaper in the Back Seat

We were an hour into a 3 hour trek back to our home in Tennessee when my wife and I noticed the smell: Our 2 year-old daughter, who had finally just fallen asleep after desperately needing to, had also just “dropped a load” in her diaper.

My wife and I barely had a verbal discussion about our immediate, yet difficult, decision:

We were not going to pull over the car and wake her up to change her diaper. Instead, we were going to drive 2 more hours while having to experience a permeating barnyard odor.

In life, it’s important to choose your battles.

And as somewhat seasoned parents, as we also have a 7 year-old son who also had to be trapped in the car with us, we decided the battle of losing time on our trip back home and having to deal with getting an extremely tired little girl back to sleep just wasn’t worth it.

For two hours, we only breathed through our mouths; yet still our eyes watered.

It wasn’t worth even attempting conversation. Normally, my wife and I would appreciate being able to have a normal conversation without being interrupted by our kids.

Yeah, not worth it this time.

It was just about powering through.

We tried rolling the windows down a little bit, but then we were in danger of the noise waking our daughter up.

To make it up to our son who was sitting next to his sister, we bargained with him: If you don’t complain about the smell, you can keep playing DinoCraft on the Kindle.

Since he is accustomed to not being able to play his game for more than an hour each day, he took the deal.

We survived. We made it home. It was brutal.

But we are family. We do what it takes to move forward together.

Poopy diapers and all.

This is 36: My Back Yard is Constantly Littered with Plastic Grocery Bags Filled with Poopy Diapers

It makes perfect sense, I’m sure. Actually, I’m confident that my story is not unique. It’s pretty simple and (assumedly) universal, really:

When our 1 year-old daughter has a poopy diaper, we reach for a plastic Kroger bag from underneath the kitchen sink, using it has an insulator for the smell. Then, without fail, I open up the back door and toss it towards the garbage bin near our fence.

Every couple of days, I have to take out a big bag of trash anyway. That’s when I pick up the 2 or 3 bags of poop to place them in the garbage bin.

What’s the point in walking out to the garbage bin every single time my daughter has a dirty diaper? That doesn’t work for the lifestyle of the Shell household. It wouldn’t be prudent.

On a daily basis, when we’re all home together, my wife is constantly running around the house in the midst of cooking meals and doing laundry, while I am constantly entertaining and occupying not only our daughter, who isn’t quite walking yet, but I am also doing my best to make sure our 6 and a half year-old son is keeping himself productive in some sort of activity.

It’s not worth the time to run outside for the sake of a dirty diaper that is already inside of a plastic bag. I’ve got too many duties that relentlessly need my attention, inside the house.

Besides, our yard is fenced in. It’s not like the neighbors can see the dirty diaper bags; not unless they specifically go upstairs in their homes then look over to our yard.

That would just be nosy.

Therefore, it remains one of our family secrets.

No one can see, so no one can know.

It’s not like I’m posting pictures of the dirty diaper bags on the Internet, bringing attention to it.

This is 36.

Why Changing Dirty Diapers Is Like Making PB & J Sandwiches

January 13, 2013 at 11:56 pm , by 

2 years, 1 month.

Dear Jack,

No, don’t get ahead of me on this one. I’m not implying that a peanut butter and jelly sandwich looks like a dirty diaper, in any way. Good guess, though.

This past weekend I changed one of your dirty diapers. Oddly enough, it’s been a while. Somehow with the timing of things, it’s rarely me that has that privilege.

Instead, it’s either one of your teachers at daycare, or Mommy, or a teacher in your class at church, but rarely me.

It’s not that I’m avoiding your dirty diapers.

After all, I of all people, a Generation Y daddy blogger, am very aware of the classic stereotype that dads are grossed out by changing their kid’s dirty diaper.

The thing is, I don’t mind changing your diapers. It’s my job and responsibility, and I take pride in it. Honestly, for any ad or commercial to portray a dad making a slight dramatic fuss over it is a tad offensive to me. I’m your dad, not a joke targeted at women to help sell diapers, dinner, or laundry detergent.

Sure, I admit that changing a dirty diaper isn’t necessarily fun. But my least favorite part of it isn’t actually the smell.

To be more candid than I should be, I’m used to the smell… aside from you.

The annoying thing about changing a dirty diaper is the process; which is the same reason making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches is a chore.

There are so many steps involved…

Get a clean diaper, predict the number of Wet Wipes it will take, get them out of the container in advance, find a good spot to change your diaper, give you a toy to distract you while I change your diaper, don’t get the mess on me or the floor or your clean diaper, put dirty diaper in a plastic disposable bag, throw away the dirty diaper outside, wash my hands…

Making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich is nearly just as bad:

Get out the bread, peanut butter, jelly, a butter knife, and a napkin to the place the sandwich on top of; then spread on the peanut butter, then wash the knife, then the jelly, then place the two sides together and clean the knife again.

It’s a very lengthy ordeal!

In fact, now that I think of it, I’m starting to wonder which really is worse: Making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or changing a dirty diaper.

Well, at the least with the sandwich, I get to eat it afterwards. So yes, changing a dirty diaper is worse, but only slightly.





Top photo: A peanut butter and jelly sandwich open faced on a blue plate, Shutterstock.

Bottom photo: Baby care room sign, Shutterstock.

dad from day one: What Does a Real Baby Do?

Fifteen weeks.

My expectations of what it will be like for my wife and I to have a real baby are pretty limited.  When I try to imagine it, I can only think about a few things: the baby crying, the baby being hungry, feeding the baby, the baby wanting to be held, holding the baby, the baby pooping, changing the baby’s diapers, the baby sleeping, us wishing we could sleep.

And aside from the 80’s sitcom stereotypes, I of course am well aware, thanks to everyone who has ever been a parent and given me any advice: There’s nothing in the world more rewarding than being a parent.

In November I will begin to feel like a real parent (once the kid is born).  Until then I won’t really truly be able to understand or fathom this most rewarding thing in the world.

It’s funny to think that eventually we won’t be comparing our baby to the size of a certain fruit.  (This week our baby is the size of a naval orange.) Eventually, our baby will be the size of a baby.  Interesting thought.

Excerpt from “the bump.com”, regarding week 15:

“Continuing the march towards normal proportions, baby’s legs now outmeasure the arms. And, finally, all four limbs have functional joints. Your fetus is squirming and wiggling like crazy down in the womb, though you probably still can’t feel the movements.”

All pictures with the “JHP” logo were taken by Joe Hendricks Photography:

Blog- www.photojoeblog.com

Website- www.joehendricks.com