Digital Father Podcast

A Daddy Diaper Story

I was reading a post over at Whit’s blog (after he commented here) and it reminded me of one of my favorite diaper stories. All dads have diaper stories, don’t they?

I was at a local Big Box store with Son 12+ years ago. He and I were shopping for something for Wife, but I can’t remember what. We were moving about the store when I noted that a cloud appeared to be following us. Not a rain cloud like you might see in a Winnie The Pooh cartoon, but an odiferous cloud. Son had a gift to offer me, and while I didn’t believe I deserved a gift at this point, he was very insistent that I take it.

So, off to the rest room to change Son. Now back in the day, I remembered that Sears had a sign by the rest room that said “Changing Room” or “Changing Station” or something like that. I asked the clerk where the “Changing Area” was. Her eyes got very wide. I looked around, thinking that a large alien had just appeared, or I had said something demeaning about someone and they had just appeared behind me, having overheard my insensitive comment. Then her slack jawed expression struck a chord in my brain.

“It’s in the Ladies Room, isn’t it?” I asked. She nodded silently.

What to do in a situation like this? I have a few choices-

• Use the counter in the Men’s Room, which is assuredly wet and filthy, even though most guys don’t wash afterward. (Yeah, I said it- don’t lie!)
• Discreetly use a corner of the store, while countless disapproving eyes bore silently into the back of my head.
• Leave the store, tell Wife they didn’t have whatever I had gone for, and change him in the car.

Intrepidly, however, I chose the fourth option. With great determination (and a little aggravation at the reverse discrimination Son and I were victims of) I strode proudly into the Ladies Room.

A little aside here- have you been in a Ladies Room, gentlemen? This place is decked out! I didn’t survey the entire place, being somewhat embarrassed to do so, but what I saw at the entrance was WAY better than any old wet floored hovel they pass off as rest rooms for men. They had a loveseat, hand care products, dispensers, extra mirrors. My bedroom wasn’t as well appointed as this joint. But I digress…

I was relieved to discover that the changing space (a dedicated counter) was located near the door. I brought Son (now at arms length, as he was quite aromatic) to the spot and carefully (no padding) placed him upon the counter. A few ladies came and went during the process, and some looked askance, but understood when I said over my shoulder ‘they have no changing area in the Men’s Room’.

Son and I left, our dignity intact but our ire increased. We jetted off a letter to the Big Box store telling them of our embarrassing situation and explaining to them that, in these modern times (12 years ago) there were appliances that allowed stores to create a changing area in ANY restroom, and at a minimal cost with tremendous benefits. We have not been back to that changing area, since at 13, he manages on his own… mostly. However, I’ll long remember that slack-jawed saleswoman, my Ladies Room foray, and the dismay I felt at having been a victim of discrimination*.

*I do NOT believe that this is in any way comparable to glass ceilings, racial profiling, gay bashing, or any other egregious forms of discrimination. I’m being (hopefully) funny. As a hetero middle-class white guy, this will most likely be the closest I get to real discrimination in my life.