Derrick Logan

As Mark so graciously pointed out, I didn't give a statistic on the number of diapers dad has changed. It was an honest oversight... the stat would've looked something like this:

0-2
Number of diapers I change on a given day. Mom's not to keen to my diaper skills... and says Jude isn't either.

With that said, I did have the distinct privilege of changing the first public-restroom-family-restroom-diaper(s). The story that follows is filled with hilarity but graphic in nature. Those with weak stomachs are better off abandoning to a cleaner place.


Kim and I had a busy Tuesday morning and afternoon. Family pictures in the morning, then errands at the mall, then a follow-up hearing screening in Scottsdale. Errands at the mall conveniently fell around lunch time and one of Kim's favorite eateries is Great Steak. We grabbed a couple sandwiches after our errands and then it was nearing Jude's grubbin' time. We try to change him before he eats so he goes down a little easier after he eats. I, in a superhero dad moment, offered to change him.

So while mom watches our bags at the table, J and I head to a private family restroom just off of the food court. Now, I'm actually a little excited about... oh my... Jude's sitting here next to me in his baby papasan and just unleashed a fury in his drawers. I think mom changed him about two minutes ago. Nice. As I was saying... I was a bit excited about changing him. See, I love to try out new things. I've been flaunting my dope daddy diaper bag everywhere we go. Tuesday also happened to be the day we used the stroller for the first time, totally stoked. Well, my dope bag also comes with a pretty sleek changing pad that hadn't been used. Thus my cheap thrills.

We make our way into one of six or eight family restrooms, push the stroller in and lock the door. Up this moment, I had never truly appreciated family restrooms and the privacy they offer. A very nice amenity. Now that I'm in, it's time to set up shop. I lock the stroller wheels and set down the bag. I neatly and strategically layout the changing pad so I don't get a pee shot in the eye. Next, I pull out a diaper and the wipes container and place them in their appropriate place to the left of the changing pad. Next is the kid. I snap him out of the car seat... which took several days to master... those snaps don't disengage easily but I've got it down by now. I pull him out and lay him on the pad. I unsnap the onesie and go to work. I've got to move quick.

I pull the diaper off, set it aside and start wiping. This one's a doozy. I've got to move quick. It takes a couple of wet wipes but my job is almost done. I reach for the new diaper and... BLAM! Need a visual? He's at the stage where his crap looks like he ate a sesame seed bun soaked in mustard. And with one small grunt and a big push, he's had "a stool" all over the brand new changing pad. I've never heard of poop referred to as "a stool" but that's what all the doctors call it.

So now, while grabbing more wipes, I pull my diaper-less son as far away from his mess that I can without taking him completely off the pad. As I'm wiping the junk off the brand stinkin' new changing pad, a thought crosses my mind. With every poop comes a... SHWISH! J's perfectly perpendicular pepe releases all and any liquid waste he was holding in. Three or four squirts shot about two and half feet into the air, landing all over the new pad, dad's hands, and his onesie.

My brain's working quicker now and I know I need to clean him up asap and slap a diaper on this kid before we have another Hiroshima in here. The diaper I had originally set out was soaked in the rainstorm so I frantically wrap him up in a new diaper, hoping that he doesn't drop a load in the next 30 seconds. I get the wet onesie off, wipe him, the pad, and the counter down with wipes, and start getting the new onesie over his head. Then I hear a not-so-discreet squirt... knowing that I'm about to relive the events of the past 10 minutes all over again.

Not this time. I'm poised. I'm ready. I've got to move quick.

After I finish getting the onesie on the top portion of his body, I position a third diaper underneath the one he's currently wearing. I'm getting smarter. I unsnap the diaper and place a wipe over his WOOHOO. Holding him up by the feet, I pull the 2nd diaper off, using it to wipe anything I can off his butt. Still holding his feet up, I grab another wipe and clean him up. I pull the newest diaper through his legs and then put his feet down. Just before sealing it up, I pull out the make-shift pee guard and then... I'm done. Kinda.

Jude, up until the end, had been doing great. No fussing, no crying. I'm pretty sure he was laughing at me, in his own way. But by the time I sealed the final diaper, he'd had enough and starting getting fussy.

Despite my best efforts of keeping a clean workspace, there's quite a mess on the changing counter and I need to pack everything up. I get J back in his seat and fasten him up. When I clicked the final click of his car seat, he screamed and cried louder than any child I've ever heard in my life. I thought for sure I'd caught some of his skin in one of the snaps but he was all clear. After making sure he wasn't in any severe physical harm, I left him crying in the car seat while I cleaned up. The cries and screams got louder and louder, making me work faster and faster. I finally finished and threw the diaper bag on my back. I had to get this kid settled down before we left or people were going to think that I was in there beating my son. I pulled him out of the seat and the second he hit my arms, all the crying stopped. With my back to the door, I pushed it opened and pulled the stroller out behind me. I glanced for a moment back into room that had been the center of chaos for the better part of 20 minutes.

We found mom waiting patiently at the table. I basically said, "Three diapers, a new onesie... oh... and we're out of wipes."

I was wiped.