Diaper Data

I hate changing diapers. HATE IT. I didn't start out this way, but have I ever mentioned that my little guys are spirited? This means that every diaper change consists of my elbow in a child's chest, trying to get them to be still and not kick me long enough for me to use the 30 wipes necessary to clean the sewage spill that threatens to seep onto the furniture. It sucks.

Hnery was potty-trained at age 3, but we still have a few months to go with Quinn. I am so burned out that three months sounds like an eternity. I realized that I have been changing diapers for over five solid years WITH NO BREAK, which got me thinking about exactly how MANY diapers I have changed. Here is a rough estimate:

Henry = (365 days)*(3 years)*(5 diapers a day) = 5475 diapers

Quinn = (365 days)*(2.6 years)*(5 diapers a day) = 4745 diapers

Grand Total = 10,220 diapers

And that is only an estimate. Those numbers completely ignore the 10-diaper days of newborns, not to mention the 20-diaper days of stomach viruses. I guess that balances out the three diaper-free weekend vacations that I have taken, plus the diapers that I don't change when the boys are at school. Which leads me to the kicker....

Here is what happens when Quinn poops at home:

I see him squat. I see his face turn bright red. I hear noises. I smell odors. I say, "Quinn, are you pooping?" He says, "No, I not pooping. I just have gas." I say, "Come on, Quinn, let's go change that diaper." He says, "No I no want to change my diaper." I pick him up and say, "Let's get it off of you so you don't get a rash." He says, "No, I not get rash. I no want to change diaper. I not pooped." I lay him down to change him. This is the part where I USED to try to hand him a toy or book or other distraction, but I have since learned that the words "Quinn" and "distraction" do not belong in a sentence together, unless you are being ironic. I then begin wiping while trying to prevent his flailing feet from coming into contact with my face.

Here is what happened when I picked Quinn up at school the other day:

I picked him up right after his nap, and he had a poopy diaper. I said, "Do you have a poopy diaper?" He said, "Yes. My teacher will change it, Mo-om." Then I watched him walk VOLUNTARILY over to the changing table and GET IN LINE to have his diaper changed. While his teacher wiped him, he was as passive as a little lamb on painkillers. Does that boy play me like a fidddle or what?