12 Things You'll Never Miss About Diapers

Older parents often tell new parents to “cherish this time”, no matter how trying it may be. And part of you heartily agrees with that sentiment.There’s a lot to love and it goes by so fast. But the other part of you calls bullshit on the whole idea, since the benefit of any veteran parent’s experience is knowing exactly why “the moment” can be pretty damn difficult to embrace. Before you can ever hope to pen wistfully regretful Facebook memes with the pearls of your infinite wisdom, you’ve gotta wrench yourself out of the trenches. Until then, you’re living and breathing (and sometimes gagging on) the reality that, for every ounce of life-changing good at each precious stage of development, there’s a fair amount of miserably bad to go along with it. Sure. There’s a lifetime of sentimental moments you’ll miss when the kids get grown. But there’s a slippery slew of drudgery you absolutely won’t. Case in point: diapers, and the top 12 things you’ll never miss about those.

1. Buying them. Once upon a time, you complained about the price of tampons and toilet paper. But that was before you were put in charge of something that pisses and shits uncontrollably, and cannot be demoted to “outdoor pet” like an incontinent cocker spaniel. Like it or not, those diapers gotta get bought. But man… if you had a nickel for every Pamper you purchased during those first few years--Junior just might have a college fund.

2. Running out of them. A parent staring down their last diaper in an otherwise empty sleeve is a portrait of panic amplified by the distance to the nearest Walmart and the number of days til your Amazon shipment arrives. It’s 2 am and you’re crossing your fingers that this final Pamper can last at least until the world wakes up...if not, you’re gonna need to Mommy McGyver some maxi pads into a DIY diaper.

3. Changing them. At first, your kid is just tiny and you’re just an amateur, so the biggest struggle in diaper-changing is honing your technique while dodging projectile urine streams or unexpected bowel evacuation. But before long, you’ll need training in hostage negotiation and mixed martial arts if you hope to subdue your 18-month-old into a clean set of drawers. It’s like trying to clean and dress a Thanksgiving turkey that’s actively kicking and running away from you. No matter how much you wanna throw that diaper across the room and say fuck it to the whole process--there’s absolutely no way you can let that ticking time-bum loose without seriously regretting it. Very, very soon.

4. Smelling them. Diaper Genie, scented bags, and lidded trash cans be damned. Sooner or later, that scent will seep out like a noxious gas and knock you the fuck down. .

5. Masking the smell of them. When your dinner guests are arriving and your living room still smells like the shit you changed on the couch a half hour ago, you long for the days when everyone in your house shat in a toilet with the door closed and the vent on blast. Until those glorious days return, your home frequently smells like Glade Ocean Breeze with a stifling undertone of turd. Welcome to our home, exalted guests. Bon Appetit.

6. Outgrowing them. Sizes 3s were hanging off your kid’s ass like Lil Wayne’s pants when you ordered a flatbed truck’s worth of them just two weeks ago. But low and behold, those same size 3s are now practically thongs and leaking like Niagara Falls through a dust mop. Unfortunately, "one-size-fits-all" does not apply to this delicate dance with bodily fluids. Better get your ass to Target for some size 4s before your kid floods the nursery.

7. Packing them. As if the Pack ‘n’ Play, bouncy seat, and 20 changes of clothes weren't taking up enough room in the car on your weekend road trip, you’ve got to account for quadruple the child’s weight and surface area in the diapers that need to be packed. Sure, you could just buy them when you get there (see Number 1 and cry some more)... but no. Fuck that shit. For the money and time you’re wasting, you might as well get a new kid while you’re at it. Mommy maybe tethered to the roof like luggage. But those diapers are coming with.

8. Your giant diaper bag. It’s got wipes. It’s got dipes. It’s got passies and onesies and diaper cream and changing pads--and quite possibly the cure for Zika somewhere in its abysmal depths. But its girth and heft exceed the standards for what constitutes carry-on luggage on most passenger planes and may have you lurching like Quasimodo when just a few years of slinging it over your shoulder permanently alters the curvature of your spine.

9. Koala Care. Like the Murphy Bed of dressing tables, this gem folds down from the bathroom wall like a black market operating gurney used to transplant stolen kidneys. Its gummy white plastic surface has been made sticky and gray from a lifetime of use and abuse that amounts to a giant dry heave of other people's nastiness. If you’re worried that your child might roll off, you can always buckle them in and hope they don’t develop necrotizing fasciitis from the putrid strap across their mid-section. And that mysterious debris in the crease where the table hinges might be stale graham cracker crumbs…but most likely, not. Either way, your kid will try to eat it.

10. Blow-outs. Unlike the Brazilian kind that leaves you looking sleeker and chic-er than you did before-- “blow-outs” of the diaper variety leave you looking and smelling like a giant asshole. Because even though YOU did nothing to create the shit, it will be all over you and everything within a 10-foot radius, depending on how soon you catch it. Whether it happens with a baby on your hip and renders your entire ensemble burnable 2 minutes before you need to be out the door--or you happen upon it by following the trail of “Wait...Is that…?” all the way to your kid playing in a pool of it on the carpet. It’ll ruin your fucking day like little else can.

11. The swim-friendly version. No one wants their baby’s fugitive floater to shut down the neighborhood swimming hole, so stuff them into a “swim dipe” and hope for the best. But while the swim diaper might contain the average turd, they’re designed to "let yellow mellow" right the fuck through like water through a vegetable strainer. Put the swim dipe on too early, and you’re sure to have a puddle on your carpet before you ever leave the house. Wait til you get to the pool and you’ll be shoving a half-naked baby into a swim dipe poolside, like trying to cram a chubby square peg into a pair of tiny round leg holes.

12. Your sizable contribution to the landfill. Maybe you had every intention of using cloth diapers. But chances are, somewhere between that first black-tar meconium poop and your first dance with baby diarrhea, you decided your sanity was the most vital natural resource worth conserving for the time being. So while past generations left us clay pots and primitive tools to dig up and wonder about, you’ll be blessing future generations with mountains of your child’s DNA wrapped in the remnants of ancient, decaying Pampers… Maybe it’s the thought that counts? If not, fingers crossed that years and pounds of pressure will somehow turn that doo-doo into diamonds. In the meantime, recycle and compost your ass off so you can stop feeling like the contents of those diapers you tossed by the shit-ton...

One day, you’ll miss those chubby legs, the adorable waddle of that puffy dipe-bottom, and the toddler’s hilarious notion of “privacy” that compels them to crouch behind furniture when dropping a deuce in their diaper. But the road from "diapered" to "potty-trained" is beset with tears, woe, and curse words--so the struggle will remain painfully real for many months (or years) to come. With so much to love about your kids, there's no need to force appreciation for the aspects of an era that do legitimately SUCK. To love the moment and live in it is a worthwhile endeavor--and the hardest piece of advice to take. But when at long last, you leave diapers in the dust, it’s a fucking celebration. Feel free to "cherish" that.