07 April 2009

Can somebody send me some tights? Maybe a mask?

Austin's diaper changes used to be pretty pleasant -- well, save for the fact that I was dealing with someone else's bodily fluids.  He would coo and stare up at me, maybe wiggle an arm.  It was all a very soft-focus, Johnson & Johnson ad affair.  He'd smile, as if to say "Thanks for getting the poop off my balls, Mom!"  Oh, I miss those days.  Because now, those idyllic changing moments?  They're wrestling matches, and I'm losing.  He's mastered what looks like a figure-four leg-lock, wrapping his hammy thighs around my arm until I can't move my hand.  (Imagine getting your arm stuck in a pair of fleshy elevator doors, and you've just about got it.)  Then he does some sort of Jet Li "my hips are too flexible to be human" roll/flip move, and before I know it, he's standing up on the changing table, waggling his cocktail wiener at the neighbors out the window.  I have to counter with fifteen rounds of "Austin, NO.  If you'd just lay still, we'd be finished already."  I keep waiting for Vince MacMahon to show up in the nursery and offer the kid a contract.

I thought this resistance to diapering might be a sign that he could be ready to start potty training -- he's been really curious about other bathroom activities lately, flushing the toilet, playing with TP, etc.  So, I took a chance and let him hang out (literally *snicker*) diaper-free for an afternoon.  I showed him the downstairs bathroom, read him his potty book, and even brought out his own tiny green potty (from Ikea, of course).  Now keep in mind, the kid can't walk or talk yet, so I wasn't expecting him to tug on my sleeve and say, "MOTHER, I NEED TO USE THE LAVATORY PLEASE." But I was a little taken aback when I looked over at him from the couch and saw him peeing all over his plastic hippopotamus.  (If I didn't know better, I'd say he was aiming for it.)

So, the diaper battle will rage on, at least for now.  I may have to invest in some of those tie-downs (kind of like what Joan Crawford uses on Christopher in "Mommy Dearest"), or else I'll just start scattering sawdust all over the floor.

1 comment:

  1. We like to call that the crocadile diaper death roll.