You’re going to undergo a lot of changes once you become a new father. One of the strangest and most disgusting will be those diapers.

Now, I’m not going to say that you’ll get used to wiping feces off a little butt and it won’t even bother you (because it will. No matter how [...]]]> by Barry and Richard

You’re going to undergo a lot of changes once you become a new father. One of the strangest and most disgusting will be those diapers.

Now, I’m not going to say that you’ll get used to wiping feces off a little butt and it won’t even bother you (because it will. No matter how many kids you have, you’ll never get used to finishing up a change and finding stray brown stains on certain parts of your anatomy.), but you will find you’re able to do it without getting too freaked out. Just take a little simple advice.

So you’ve got your little dude home from the hospital. More than likely, the first thing you’re going to have to do with him is change his diaper.

Relax. It’s going to be easy, provided you’re not an idiot.

Hi. I’m Richard, the idiot mentioned above. When Alyse and I brought home our oldest son for the first time, yes, we did have to change him. I volunteered because, well, I needed the brownie points. So, I had Rich on the changing table and Alyse stood next to me. I opened the old diaper and, of course, promptly dropped the clean diaper onto the floor. I asked her to hold Rich still so he didn’t fall off the changing table (more on that later) and then I bent down to pick up the diaper. Alyse was feeling the pain of her C-section and not really paying attention beyond making sure the little dude didn’t move. While I was down there picking up the clean diaper, I noticed the wall was wet and getting wetter. And, I noticed, my back was getting wet as well. I was genuinely puzzled about this. It was only when I stood up that I noticed the streaks on the wall start right next to the changing table and there’s a line of pee all the way across the changing table from the wall and ending at this freshly circumscribed penis. So, within five minutes of getting my first son home I got peed on. Yes, I took that as an omen of things to come.

The first thing you’ve got to do when you get home is to find the best place to change the little dude. We’d recommend doing it on the floor. If you change him on the floor then, even if he rolls away from you, there’s nowhere he can go that will hurt him.

This is vitally important. When you’re changing him anywhere but on the floor, you must never, never ever take your hand off him. Always keep at least one hand on the little dude’s chest, or holding one of his legs. Especially as he gets older, he will be more likely to start juking and jiving and might end up pitching off the table. But if you’ve got a good grip on him, he’s safe as houses.

But, no matter where you do change him, you’ll need to have a changing pad to put him on. You should get one that has not only ridges around the edges so it’s harder for a little dude to roll out, but also one that has a strap across the middle to hold him in. Even with all these precautions, you still need to make sure you’re always holding him with one hand.

Okay. So, you’ve found where you’re going to change the little dude. Now you have to get prepared. Do this before you start to change him. Get your wipes, your diapers and the — possibly needed — new set of clothes ready and stacked up next to him. That way you won’t be searching for anything during the middle of the job.

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The other day, I found out why there might be so many arguments between little dudes and their parents. Apparently, when they say something it means something totally different from what we think it means.

Case in point. When we were at Wingate University to participate in the regional competition of the Odyssey of the Mind, [...]]]> by Richard

The other day, I found out why there might be so many arguments between little dudes and their parents. Apparently, when they say something it means something totally different from what we think it means.

Case in point. When we were at Wingate University to participate in the regional competition of the Odyssey of the Mind, our team had a great position on the large, grassy area to use as a base camp. We had plenty of sun and lots of room for the little dudes and dudettes to run around and have fun. The only issue was down in one side of the grassy area where there was a bit of a bog.

The ground was so saturated from recent rains that water was just leaking out of the ground, like a spring, in one area. It formed a great, muddy swamp that existed just under the surface of some grass-like plants, eventually finding its way to a creek fed by a drainage pipe. Now, when I say this was muddy, I’m not messing around.

Some older dudettes, walking from the gym to a different building, went skipping into the bog. They didn’t realize it wasn’t solid ground and ended up losing their shoes to the muck. One girl found hers. The other girl didn’t. They spent about 30 minutes feeling under the mud and basically turning themselves into walking swamp things looking for these shoes. No luck.

So, yeah. Of course, Speed Racer thought it was the coolest thing ever.

I was talking to some of the parents of our group when I found out about this difference in definitions.

Speed Racer came limping up to me, his right foot and leg (up past his knee) were soaking wet and had a nice, stinky layer of mud all over them.

I was appalled, especially considering he didn’t have a change of clothes, there was a chilly breeze and we still had more than three hours before we could leave.

He was smiling. And couldn’t wait to tell me what happened.

“I was smart, Dad,” he said.

“Um . . . What? What? What? What happened to your leg? I thought I told you to stay out of the mud.”

“Right. Exactly. That’s why I was smart.”

I couldn’t really process that so I fell back on the classics. “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”

He looked confused. “What?”

“Never mind. What happened?”

“Well, you told me to stay out of the mud and that’s what I was going to do, but I had to get to the other side — ”

“You couldn’t have walked around the mud? Your feet wouldn’t make it the, oh, 17 necessary steps?”

He looked at me like I was the idiot there. And, who knows, perhaps he was right.

“Anyway, Dad. I had to get across so I grabbed a long thin pipe but it didn’t work.”

I shook my head. “What didn’t work?”

He looked at me like I was the idiot there. Again. He gestured at his muddy golem leg.

“Well, I was going to use the pipe to get across the mud. That’s why I was smart. I tried to use the pipe to pole vault over the muddy bits. That was really smart. Only the pipe wasn’t strong enough and it broke and I landed in the mud and I got all muddy and it’s all right because it’s sunny and I’m going to let it dry and it’s not really a problem. Bye, Dad!”

And off he raced. I turned to the parents with whom I’d been talking. I could see my own expression — puzzled, confused — reflected from their faces.

“He did just say that was the smart bit, right?”

They nodded.

I shivered, wondering what, if he considered pole vaulting over the muddy bog instead of going around the smart bit, had he rejected as a dumb idea and did I really want to know.

No. No I did not.

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Nothing to do with college or high school or anything like that. I just liked the headline. Well, it made me laugh. Anyway, I wanted to talk about discovering previously hidden talents. Here’s the deal: Over the last week or so, I actually made several household repairs more complicated than switching out light bulbs. Hey, [...]]]> by Richard

Nothing to do with college or high school or anything like that. I just liked the headline. Well, it made me laugh. Anyway, I wanted to talk about discovering previously hidden talents. Here’s the deal: Over the last week or so, I actually made several household repairs more complicated than switching out light bulbs. Hey, it’s a big deal for me.

Hidden talent #1: Scruffling around in rocks and fluff. Last year, I and my wife, known to me as She Who Must Have New Decoration, completely tore out and redid our bathroom. The reason I tell you this (other than to brag that we’re still together after that ordeal) is because the contractor didn’t do a totally exceptional job. When it was colder than a former Governor of Alaska’s . . . um. . . shoulder here in Charlotte, I noticed that one of the heating and air conditioning registers was doing a lot more freezing than it was heating. And, of course, that meant that it was my wet feet that got turned into blocks of ice while I stood at the mirror and put on my face. (hey, it’s a long process)

All of which meant that I had to go down under the house into the crawl space. Some genius decided it would be a good idea to cover the bottom of the crawl space with smallish rocks. With very sharp edges. Not fun to crawl on your hands and knees over. Especially when the ceiling/floor above your back keeps getting closer and closer. That’s when the sneezing started.

I shone the flashlight around and saw there was what looked like dryer lint all over the place down there. Well, as it turns out, that’s exactly what was down there. Seems our contractor had, while working on the bathroom, dislodged the exhaust pipe leading from the dryer to the outside. Which led the dryer lint to spew into the crawl space. Now that was fun. I stopped by to fix that with copious amounts of duct tape and then moved onto the grand finalé.

Crawling all the way to the end of the space, I found the disconnected duct and got to work. It was cool, really. I was able to use duct tape on an actual duct. That’s the sort of thing that seriously tickled me. What? I’m easily amused. Move on. I didn’t use just duct tape, though. See, I really didn’t want to have to come under there again. With that in mind, I wrapped wire around the connection and tightened it to the point of cutting off the circulation, if a metal pipe could be said to have any. Then I put on more duct tape to make sure the wire wouldn’t fall off.

When I crawled out of the freezing crawl space I looked like the Abominable Lintman, but it was worth it. The register was blowing even more hot air than I do. Well worth the effort that went into the solution.

That was when I got cocky. And paid the price. . .

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