I knew I was having a boy. It’s a long story about a child’s soul, fate, and my family and if you want the full story ask me in person and I will fill you in. In addition to that, there were plenty of signs letting me know I was carrying a male. For instance when I was about 13 or so weeks pregnant my neighbor told me it was a boy. She, very confidently, told me that she had a vision of Pickle playing in our front yard with a little boy. A few weeks late while having a pedicure with my mother, the owner of the salon pointed to my belly and, again, told me, “That’s a boy.” Ok, ok I get it. I’m having a boy!
Weeks later, when his gender was in fact confirmed by ultra sound, I told the same neighbor that it was a boy, that she was correct. To my surprise, she responded by somewhat questioning me, “Didn’t you already tell me that?” She shook her head. “I guess I just knew…when the energy is that strong you just know.”
With all signs pointing to male, you would think I would have talked to more women who have boys. I only have the experience of mothering a girl, so you would think I would at least talk about some of the obvious differences. Like for example, the penis. I didn’t ask a single question which is why I can beg the question, How many well-educated adults does it take to change a baby’s diaper? Well, if it’s a boy, it depends…
The first time I changed the Prince’s diaper it literally took three adults. Now granted, I was high. (Previous post, re: unwanted narcotics) However, my mother and my sister-in-law were not high and it still took three of us! Of course all newborns are basically shaped like a frog which makes changing the diaper a challenge; managing to straighten their legs is impossible. On top of that, there is the umbilical cord stump, the highly sensitive tip of a freshly circumcised penis, and sticky, sticky poop. I managed the diaper while Mom worked the wipes and Jenny tried to control the legs. I’m fairly certain we all had poop on at least one of our body parts, someone was probably peed on, and I know we used up about 60 wipes.
Since then, I find myself getting regularly stuck in what I call the “changing table vortex of time.” I swear one day I started at the table in the afternoon. By the time I was finished it was Pickle’s bedtime. I swear. It’s like I get there and literally get stuck in a time warp. Whether it is because the Prince pees all over, poops in a perfectly clean diaper, or projectile poops on the table while I am trying to wipe him it feels like it is impossible for me to change one diaper and be done.
As I mentioned, the one most obvious difference between have a boy and a girl is the penis. Or the “bird” as I lovingly refer to it. I soon found out that the position of the bird in the diaper is critical. Oh yes! If it is pointing up, he will pee all over the place. I could not for the life of me figure out how and why he was wetting the back of his clothes. How was he peeing out the back of his diaper? That just didn’t make any physical sense. Well, I found out that I have to make sure his junk is pointing down so that he won’t leak out of the diaper as he did almost every day for the first week of his life. Little did I know how critical the position was. Down, down, down.
And for those of you who don’t have boys, there is so much to consider with a poop diaper. Navigating that landscape is something to figure out. Newborn poop gets everywhere. I mean everywhere. With a baby boy that means lifting, shifting, and checking. Double checking. This is nothing like the simplicity of a baby girl: front to back! Simple! Apparently, I am also finding out that poop habits begin in infancy. When Pickle was a baby she was very efficient. She pooped, I changed her. She peed, I changed her. Not so now. It seems that the Prince enjoys pooping and likes to make it linger. He will poop once. Then a little more a bit later. Maybe even a little more a few moments after that. Do not fool yourself by thinking you will go change him once you know he has pooped. No way! I have made the mistake far too many times of changing him prematurely. That’s when the fun starts. That’s when we become stuck in the changing table vortex of time. Maybe I will be done in time for dinner…
It’s all a new landscape that I am hoping to navigate well. I must admit I regularly check with Brian to assure me that all of his parts downtown are doing what they are supposed to. One thing I do know is how important this one area is to the adult male and for the brief moments of time when the care of it is in my ever-loving hands, God help me that I don’t mess up.
Loving your baby boy is a joy like no other. It’s impossible to describe. I laugh, I cry, I wonder. Thank heaven for little boys….