not that you asked...

Diaper Delivery Day

Two weeks ago I delivered The Diapers from my Huggies Every Little Bottom diaper drive.

You guys, this was SUCH A PROCESS. I decided to buy them all, MYSELF, instead of getting them delivered from Amazon or something (otherwise known as The Easy Way), because Target was having one of those “Buy Two Ginormous Packs of Diapers and Get a $10 Gift Card” sales and that effectively brought the price of diapers down to $.16 each or something when you factor in the gift card. So I went to four different Targets – not because they didn't have enough boxes at each one, mind you. More because... well, for starters, you can't fit as many boxes of diapers in your car as you think you can. Like, 12 to 14, tops, and it's basically like playing life-sized Tetris trying to fit them all in, which I WAS NEVER VERY GOOD AT ANYWAY. And then also, because HEY, I'm the crazy lady who just bought 14 packs of diapers and looked like a total idiot trying to commandeer two overfull carts at the same time and I'M BAAAAACK! Yeah, no. So I just drove to a DIFFERENT Target, to be a DIFFERENT crazy lady to a DIFFERENT BUNCH OF PEOPLE. I probably should have just been the same crazy lady to the same people, but I didn't think of that until... well, frankly, not until right now.

Anyway, my mom helped me (THANK YOU, MOM!), and together we purchased SIXTY BOXES of diapers, as well as a lot of individual packs of wipes. I don't know exactly how many packages of wipes, except to tell you that they were heavy, because the Target cashier put as many as she could fit into one enormous bag, which I had to drag to the car. After I bought all of the diapers, I dumped them at my parents' house for two whole weeks, because my church was having a big missions week conference and didn't have the capacity to stock them, what with everything else that was going on. This made my parents love me a WHOLE LOT. But the week before Thanksgiving, we loaded up my dad's truck and delivered them all at once, and WOW, it was so awesome.

According to Barb, who is in charge of running the food pantry at our church (among other things - Barb is awesome), the number of families asking for assistance has jumped from 40 to more than 130 in the matter of just a few weeks. ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY. So this couldn't have come at a better time, and is a real answer to prayer for the members of my church who are always looking for ways to serve and care for people in the surrounding community. Thanks again to everyone who participated with me.

And this is what sixty boxes of diapers looks like:

 

Disclosure: I have partnered with the Huggies® brand to help promote the Huggies® Every Little Bottom program. I have been compensated for my time commitment to the program, which includes writing about it here. However, my opinions are entirely my own.

A Public Shaming of Santa

We participated in a little nature class this morning for kids ages three to five. This blows my mind a little, that I can have two children who are close enough in age that they can both be considered preschoolers, even if I am cheating the tiniest bit what with Lucy not turning three for another three weeks and Asher having missed this year's cutoff for kindergarten by a mere ten days. Anyway, the nature program was about deer and what deer eat in the winter and the kids made a little handprint-turned-antler headband craft and then we all trooped outside to hunt for acorns and squirrels and (if you are my children or any of their friends) exclaim excitedly about MOSS! OH MY GOODNESS, MORE MOSS! OVER HERE! MOSSSSSSSSS! It's GREEEEEEEEN!

At the beginning of the program, though, the kids had all sat down on the floor of the nature center while a nature person (naturalist? I don't know) talked to them about deer and let them touch real antlers and a squirrel skull and there was one very precocious boy who must have been four who knew the answers to ALLLLLLL the questions, and it was actually very entertaining. I mean, the guy asked, “Who knows what kind of trees acorns grow up to be?” and the kid is all, “OAK TREES!” and all the other parents are looking around at each other like, dude, are we supposed to be getting THIS SPECIFIC about this kind of stuff? and generally feeling SLIGHTLY shamed. Shamed, but also amused, because this kid was pretty sharp and it was FUNNY.

An hour later, at the end of the nature hike though, the nature guy is gathering all the kids around one last time to chat with them before the program ends, and he's reminding the kids (who are still wearing their paper antler headbands) that since only BOY white-tailed deer have antlers, it must mean that you, boys and girls, are actually reindeer! Because ALLLLLL reindeer have antlers, even girl reindeer! Isn't that cool, boys and girls?

Let's cue our precocious four-year-old boy again, shall we? In a loud voice. That everyone can hear. No, seriously, like, EVERYONE. IN THE ENTIRE METROPOLITAN AREA.

“I HATE REINDEER!” [tiny pause] “And do you know why I hate reindeer?” [another pause, during which I think we all get a little suspicious and also ANXIOUS] “...Because SANTA! ISN'T! REAL!”

OMG, you guys. OH. EM. GEE. And poor Nature Guy, he's all awkward and unsure of himself,  and he's all, “Uh, ha ha ha! Well, I don't know about that! Thanks for coming everyone!” then claps his hands together and practically runs back inside the nature center while all the parents are just FROZEN THERE, IN PLACE, FILLED WITH TERROR.

And I mean, it's okay, right? If you don't want your kids to believe in Santa, I'm FINE with that. I am! And this is a kid who is four, five at the most, and I totally and completely understand that you can't POSSIBLY remember to prime a child every time you go out in public during the Christmas season to remember that other kids DO believe in Santa, so don't go RUINING IT for them. I get that; I'm sympathetic (irritated, but sympathetic). At first I WAS a little annoyed by his mom, who appeared to simply be rolling her eyes and chuckling to herself after the outburst like it was cute more than anything else; I was annoyed that she didn't at least flap her hands around and mouth “I'M SORRY” to the rest of us before pulling her child aside and reminding him to be polite around kids who DO believe. Perhaps she DID pull him aside, and I just didn't notice. But... no, I don't think she did. Not right there in front of everyone, at least.

But then I thought about what I might have done in her shoes, and I think “die inwardly of complete and utter embarrassment while doing absolutely nothing outwardly except turning BRIGHT RED” is probably at the top of my list. I like to think that I would have made it a point to apologize or something, but this is just one of those situations that is so unbelievably uncomfortable. I am thinking that this particular parent (mother of the Nonbeliever) may have thought that apologizing in front of or for her child would be like... I don't know, like giving him mixed signals about whether it was okay to believe in Santa. (Which clearly, it is not for their family. WHICH I REITERATE, IS FINE.)

And yet part of me is still just really really irritated that he was so ANGRY about Santa and make-believe reindeer and that sometimes even four-year-olds can be taught what is appropriate when it comes to Public Holiday Acceptance, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, declaring War on Christmas in the midst of Santa's TARGET AUDIENCE, which is three to five year olds. I know this is one of those things we'll come across again, and so I'm just wondering: What is the right thing to say in this situation? Has it ever happened to you?

Man, that kid. Had me fooled and charmed with the oak trees and then stabbed me in the back with the hatred of the reindeer. For what it's worth, Asher and Lucy didn't really seem to notice at all. I think they heard him (WE ALL DID) but I think they pretty much ruled him out as a reliable source.

Christmas is coming! The goose is getting fat!

Please tell me you were forced to sing that awful song in elementary school, too. Like kids know what a ha'penny is! Like a grown person born in the 1970s does either!

I think what Elizabeth said last year bears repeating: that you can't really expect Christmas to happen ORGANICALLY. You can't just wake up one morning with Christmas traditions already intact; you can't just dream up a perfect Christmas, sit back and expect it to happen.

You know what? I agree WHOLEHEARTEDLY with this sentiment. You can certainly have a lovely Christmas season without trying too hard – of course, in that respect, it certainly helps that other people put out decorations and radio stations play Christmas music and everything seems festive and bright. You can just be a TOTAL BYSTANDER at Christmas and still come out feeling like you've enjoyed a good measure of holiday cheer. But if you're expecting anything more, if you're expecting to make it special or memorable or meaningful, you've got to do more than just soak it in and hope the feeling rubs off on you. You've got to be INTENTIONAL about enjoying Christmas.

This bothers some people (my husband being one of them), but I really think that if you assume that Christmas is one of those fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants kinds of things, and that as long as you participate in the basics (tree decorating, Christmas Eve service, Santa, gifts) that everything will turn out SUPER GREAT, I think you run a greater risk of being disappointed by the whole thing, and perhaps you will pull a ME and find yourself sobbing underneath the tree on Christmas morning while your ungrateful two-year-old throws a tantrum.

Of course, you can absolutely get away with the basics and have a perfectly happy and merry experience provided you don't participate in any kind of social networking, because if you can get away with never looking at Pinterest to choose from 47,000 decorating scheme options or finding out what everyone you know is baking on Facebook, THEN YOU'RE GOLDEN. No outside pressure to create the perfect, storybook Christmas because you live in a little, black, Internetless hole? Your kids are going to LOVE those Zsu Zsu Pets you got them this year!

(HA HA HA HA ZSU ZSU PETS WERE SO LAST YEAR, HOLE DWELLERS.)

Anyway. This is very applicable to me this year, as I tend to get swallowed up in Preparation for Disney Stuff (do you guys KNOW how hard it is for me to leave the suitcases in the attic, even 25 days out?) and in all the excitement, I've practically forgotten about the Christmas season, which WILL NOT DO, as Christmas lasts approximately 40 days or something (day after Thanksgiving until the kids go back to school on January 3) and we'll only be at Disney for five of them. In other words, I need a plan. And I have A'Dell and the aforementioned Elizabeth to thank for this, because without their posts this week, I would never have gotten my butt in gear. So here are the three things I am making an effort on this season.

THE ADVENT CALENDAR
Last year's Advent Calendar was super successful. The kids enjoyed it, but TECHNICALLY it was much more for me – it helped me move through the season day by day, it gave me something to plan for, and it got me in the Christmas spirit early. It also gave me something to hype to the kids, which was a fantastic way to end tantrums and encourage good behavior. This year I'm going to do it again, though I'm not going to blog it every day (HA HA HA no), and there will be five days right there in the middle where we are on vacation, so how hard could it be, anyway? The nice thing about the Advent Calendar is that by involving the children and making a COMMITMENT to doing these things, I can't skip them... so really, this is just an easy way of making a To Do List, and then dragging the kids along with me, while masking it all as “fun.” I am going to make our list of activities and plan them out in the next week (am happy to share them here if you want me to).

LESS CRAP
The other thing I'm trying to focus on is not buying the kids a ton of crap. This is SUPER hard for me, as I am a gift giver by nature. I really enjoy it, and I can spend hours browsing and hemming and hawing over the PERFECT GIFT and let's be honest, I do not HAVE THAT KIND OF TIME. Less presents = less hemming, hawing. (Also, less money.) The other thing is, I realized that in the last few years, I have made Christmas a bit of a... shall we say, competition. My parents and my in-laws spoil my kids, and buy them heaps of presents, and I always felt like as their MOTHER, that I should be... I don't know, OUTDOING the grandparents, or else I wasn't doing Christmas RIGHT. I don't know why this felt like it mattered for so long. Every Christmas, I was dying to buy the kids their FAVORITE gift, in an effort to try and make my gift more memorable. Either that or I was trying to buy MORE stuff, so that the experiences they had at gift openings at other people's houses would pale in comparison. Guess what? THIS IS A STUPID IDEA. You know what I realized? Right now, my kids are little. They don't understand much about money, or gifts, nor do they truly care WHO the gifts come from. Is Lucy thinking, “Wow, my mom is so awesome for giving me this doll stroller I love to push around!” every time she gets it out of the closet? Is Asher appreciating the time and effort I put into picking out the Lego train he plays with? The answer here is no. They can certainly REMEMBER who gave them what; but they don't associate APPRECIATION with it.

Now, when my kids are older and less fun to buy for and the grandparents have to resort to things like sweaters and socks and maybe a video game or two? This is when I plan to swoop in and be AWESOME MOM, BUYER OF THE BEST GIFTS IN THE WORLD. And they will RECOGNIZE IT. This year, though, WE BE ON A BUDGET.

CONTINUE FAVORITE TRADITIONS
My favorite tradition – beyond anything involving gifts or music or lights or kids on a major sugar high – is the Christmas date that Dave and I have every year. We make cheese fondue, and we spread out a blanket in the living room, and we eat terribly fattening food and watch Love Actually and then Elf, if we can stay awake long enough. We turn out the lights and just hang out together and there is something about being in the room with a lit Christmas tree that makes it so much more special. This is one of my favorite nights of the year, and not just because there is melted cheese. I know that Christmas tends to favor the kids and all that we can do for and with the kids, but I like making time for the adults in the family, too. ADULTS ARE PEOPLE TOO.

I cleaned the house so here, look at it

We are headed to Disney World in 26 days. When we come home, it's Lucy's third birthday, then nine days later, Christmas, followed by New Year's. Then: THREE MONTHS OF DARKNESS AND DEPRESSION, also known as WINTER.

I love having something, ANYTHING to look forward to. The best, though, is when I have a trip or a vacation to look forward to, along with some accompanying research to keep me busy. While I am really looking forward to our trip next month (I can't even TELL YOU how much I'm looking forward to it, except to say that in the Name of Preparation, I have been to Walmart THREE TIMES just to settle on the perfect $3 rain poncho) (I KNOW, SHUT UP), I'm also dreading it, because I know the letdown that follows when a trip is over – and I've enjoyed the last 300 days (yes, we booked in February, because we are OVERACHIEVERS) of having something to look forward to as well as something to overeducate myself about.

Also, there's the whole thing about winter sneaking up on us, and the fact we'll spend the majority of January, February and March INDOORS in this impossibly tiny and dark (TWO WINDOWS DOWNSTAIRS, THAT IS ALL) house. Then again, I'm kind of... how do I say this... looking forward to the winter, because I am curious to see if the changes we made during the renovation this summer will have a noticeable effect on how well we weather the winter. We did NOT do so well two years ago, when we were pretty much housebound for upwards of three weeks during which over four feet of snow fell, but then again, we were living in what felt like a crummy old frat house, complete with wobbly Ikea furniture and cheap carpeting that was horrible to clean, meaning there were obvious reminders pretty much everywhere of each specific location where various people and pets had vomited.

Circa 2007, the house looked like this. Not bad, but not... UPDATED, really, either:

I mean, this isn't the greatest angle. Turns out when your house is covered with blankets to protect furniture from dog hair, you're not photographing it all that much. You can see why.

Here's another, featuring Asher, age 14 months. (OMG WHEN WAS HE THAT TINY) (Also, please realize at that age he had already had STITCHES IN HIS WEE HEAD.)

And now, NOW, you guys, I get to live here instead.

I love it, I do – just... will it be enough to get me through the winter? This is our one living space. Yes, the kids have bedrooms upstairs and yes, we have a nice open kitchen now, but otherwise, this is it. This is where the messes are made, LOTS OF THEM, and I'm not the kind of person who can sit down at night to watch television with 52,000 die cast cars scattered all over the floor. In other words, it must be straightened up every evening for my own sanity. You people who can close the doors to a playroom or leave toys strewn about OVERNIGHT in your finished basement? I'll trade you for Date Night, I SWEAR I WILL.

That said, I do really, truly love it. I loved putting it together and I love the color palette and I love the way it all turned out. I loved the colors during the summer, and I'm hoping it makes the winter seem cheerier. Honestly, all that work we had done makes living here so much more tolerable – it feels shallow, to say that, that somehow, really and truly, hardwood floors and cute throw pillows and matchy lampshades could improve my life so very much – but it is TRUE. I find that I can now spend entire afternoons here with the kids without feeding movie after movie into the DVD player and crumpling to the floor in defeat. Prior to the reno, I was ALWAYS looking for a reason to get out of the house. ALWAYS. And maybe part of the reason it's easier to stay home these days is because the kids love playing together and are suddenly into coloring and drawing and I find we can pass the time together much more easily than we did last year, back when they were into INSTRUMENTS, which is its own special level of hell, especially if you own CYMBALS and an ACCORDION and SIXTEEN PLASTIC HARMONICAS (we do).

But then again, HARDWOOD FLOORS. You know, if I'm going to live in a house with 900 feet of actual, usable space, which is constantly covered in a layer of baby dolls and log trucks and Legos, then I at least need to know there's a layer of CLASSY somewhere underneath.

Date Night

Dave and I have an official Date Night every Tuesday night. Not that we CALL it “Date Night” or anything, that's just what I'm telling YOU it is, because I figure you'll know what I'm talking about when I call it that, because Date Nights are very popular with marriage counselors and couples therapists and advice givers the world over. Every Tuesday night Dave's mom comes over and the kids explode from the excitement of having Grandma! In our HOUSE! To do PUZZLES WITH US! And to let us play with her BIG PHONE! (that's what they call an iPad, and no, you cannot correct them, ever ever EVER) and Dave and I kind of just hustle ourselves quietly out the door with barely a muttered goodbye and NEVER a hug or a kiss from them because GRANDMA! BOUGHT! THE NEW! VERSION! OF ANGRY BIRDS!

Let me tell you something about Date Night, though. It SOUNDS like it is the best idea ever, and it is in a lot of ways, like that it is something I look forward to and something I like dressing up for and I do really appreciate the opportunity to leave the comfort of my living room, because there's something about trying to have a meaningful conversation with your spouse when you're only two remote control clicks away from a new episode of Hoarders. (It can be distracting, is what I'm saying.) But there's a hard part of Date Night, too, which is WHAT ARE WE SUPPOSED TO DO EVERY TUESDAY NIGHT, OMG WE ARE SO TOTALLY OUT OF IDEAS.

Going out to a nice dinner every Tuesday night is rough on the wallet. Going out to a not-so-nice dinner every Tuesday night is much, much cheaper, but is also over much faster, leaving us with (and this is exactly how Dave put it last night) “a ton of time to kill.” TIME TO KILL, YOU GUYS. I mean, it is so NICE having time to kill, but it is so HARD sometimes to find ways to kill it. And it sounds kind of demeaning when you put it like that, DAVID.

And we cannot come home too early because A) our children will not be in bed, despite it being past their bedtimes (GRANDMA'S PROBLEM, NOT OURS) and B) Grandma will give us the look of disapproval, especially if she is just about to watch the new episode of Hoarders and realizes we are about to kick her out. (What is REALLY amusing is when we come home with a bag signifying that we stopped into a grocery store – she is SO DISAPPOINTED that we spent our time out IN A GROCERY STORE, of all places. This is very endearing to me on many levels, but namely that she is concerned that we are spending our alone time doing mundane, everyday chores.)

Oh sure, sometimes we go to a movie, but neither of us are huge movie people, plus the local theater where movies are only $6 on Tuesdays still lacks stadium seating. Which, I know, there are bigger problems in the world, and we are talking SIX DOLLARS for a ticket, which is like, a 50 percent discount, but then again, part of the screen is blocked by someone's HEAD, like was common, oh, TWENTY YEARS AGO. And sometimes we go out with friends, which is really nice, too, but really I'd say the majority of the time we just... wander around. We eat dinner, we end up looking at kids pajamas at Target or I end up wandering around DSW and trying on ridiculous pairs of patent leather high heels that I would never have a reason to wear while Dave watches the television that's permanently set to ESPN that they've put in the men's section (along with a pair of leather chairs – PURE GENIUS).

I think my big beef with Date Night and the push for everyone to HAVE a Date Night and make TIME for Date Night and make Date Night IMPORTANT is that its become tainted with PRESSURE. Pressure to make the Absolute! Most! Out of Every! Opportunity! To be ALONE! and then we end up perusing the beer aisle at Wegman's for 25 minutes simply because it's 8:45 and too early to go home and we end up feeling like totally uncool, unhip, completely not-with-it-anymore failures who then get sidetracked by the nicely organized produce section on the way to the checkout (LOSERS). I don't know what we're SUPPOSED to be doing with our time alone... making out in the backseat or something? (Spoiler: WE LIVE TOGETHER NOW. We share A BED at night.)

Not that I want to give up Date Night or anything. I'm just wondering... how are you spending yours? Are you squandering it in the produce aisle too?

Not to get all schmoopy on you

The kids are going through some kind of nonsense, jibberish-talk phase and it is beyond terrible. Today I actually said, “Please, you guys, if the words you are saying are not ACTUAL, REAL WORDS, then YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO SAY THEM.” They giggled, because Stern Mom Voice is FUNNY, apparently, and then went on to HISS at each other for 30 minutes. You parents will agree with me that even a child who chatters nonstop in a regular voice using the English language can wear on you after, oh, six minutes or so. If I had a nickel for every time I read on Twitter that someone would just like some peace and quiet and for their child to shut up for JUST ONE MINUTE, I would be a bazillionaire, and I would happily invite all of you to my private island in the middle of the Caribbean where the only sound is the breeze rustling through the tropical palms and the faint clicking sound a Kindle makes when you press the button to turn the page. Oh, and the sound of a blender, in the distance, where George Clooney and Matt Damon are working hard to keep up with our demands for frozen margaritas.

The nonsense talk is a hundred thousand times worse than regular kid chatter, and even WORSER because I have TWO children talking like that, TO EACH OTHER. “Blah dee blahdee hookah pookah mookah poopy scoopy nadee ladee haba haba haba oofa loofa ka ka koo ka kuchu kuchu moopah!” [dissolve in laughter] [repeat] [until we tranquilize them and throw them into their beds with our teeth clenched and our hands clapped over our ears]

I have been listening to it for so long now that I can't even laugh when they “invent” a word that has already been invented and that is not a word they would ever be allowed to use, not that I am going to TELL them that, because I do not want to have to explain to two very young children what a “bitch” is, nor do I want to risk them REPEATING it in a non nonsense manner. I am ready for this phase to pass.

On the other hand, the fact that my kids are making up nonsense words for hours at a time and laughing their very tiny butts off (seriously, I bought skinny jeans for BOTH of them this year, and they look JUST LIKE REGULAR JEANS) is a testament to how happy they are to be together all the time. I can't tell you how thrilled Dave and I are that they love each other and enjoy each other's company so much. When Asher was my only child and then when Lucy was a wee baby, I lived and died by naptime. If we did not have naptime, I was a wreck, and basically wanted to throw things all afternoon and then punch my husband in the face the second he walked in the door. If we did not have COORDINATED naptime, I managed, JUST BARELY, but I did everything within my power to encourage the all-powerful coordinated nap. My days were scheduled to the MINUTE so that I could make sure I had enough time to get home and get everything JUST RIGHT so that I could have an hour and a half of Me Time in the afternoons.

And as much as I still love the idea of having a nice stretch of quiet in the afternoons... I've pretty much decided days without naps are the best thing ever. I KNOW, right? I never would have imagined this mindset a few years ago. I remember thinking about the fact that I would one day lose naptime and wanting to WEEP and perhaps put bricks on my children's heads to keep them from growing up any more (right, Jen?). And now I'm kind of... well, I'm plain old OVER naps. I'm so over dividing my days in half and being home in time for someone to rest and I'm WAY over Asher's neediness when Lucy is asleep. I MUCH prefer her to be awake and serving her duty as Partner in Crime. Some days she still needs to nap, yes, and there are still days when I can get Asher to lie down in his bed for an hour or so, too, but the truth is that I can't get any more done during that hour than I could if they were both awake. It is so strange and bizarre and crazy, and wonderful, too. I LOVE IT.

Also I love the part where they both are in bed and asleep before 7:45, and the part where Lucy often sleeps until 8:30 the next morning. And did I mention that my children STILL do not get out of bed when they wake up in the morning? THEY STILL JUST LIE THERE. QUIETLY. Which is not as great as you think it is when you've been using Children as your alarm clock for the last five years – we've got to be out the door to preschool at 9:13 and when you're waking up for the day at 8:45, THINGS ARE STRESSFUL. (Though we are all well rested, something I could never have claimed 18 months ago.)

Yesterday on our walk we were talking about being thankful, and I was explaining the meaning of the word (“it's something that makes you feel really happy”) and asking the kids what they were thankful for. In the non-surprise of the year, Asher is thankful for Lucy, and Lucy is thankful for Asher.

And I was all teary and clutching my chest with the wonderfulness of it all while still trying to steer a bulky stroller down the path, when I heard, “Blah dee blahdee hookah pookah mookah poopy scoopy nadee ladee haba haba haba oofa loofa ka ka koo ka kuchu kuchu moopah!”

RIGHT. And just like that, we're back to reality.

2011 Diaper Drive Results

Originally, my goal was to raise $5,000 for diapers for my community. And I know, that sounds like a huge, unreachable goal, and that... well, actually that was kind of the point. I decided that if I DID manage to raise $5,000? I would have been humbled and thrilled and amazed and absolutely blown away. I would have also had to run three miles in a giant diaper.

But you know what? I didn't even raise half of my original goal. The final total was $2,135.33, and I think if you had told me that before I'd even started, that I'd “only” raise that much, I might have been a little disappointed. It turns out that I am the furthest thing from disappointed. I am elated. I am thankful. I am humbled and thrilled and amazed and absolutely blown away. So I ran in that stupid diaper anyway. Because this is another instance where the readers of this website went above and beyond what I'd asked – I got beautiful emails and words of encouragement and notes of thanks for bringing this issue to light. Who am I to deny you a bit of a laugh at my expense? It was the least I could do, for people who have done so very much for me, and in turn, for the people of the community I live in – the people I so desire to serve. Thank you. Thank you very much.

(In the words of my brother: "Oh, gross. It even looks ABSORBENT.")

Can I tell you that there is no easier way to make friends than to strip down to a diaper in the pouring snow? The race I ran in on Saturday was touted as a Halloween run – costumes were encouraged – but due to the weather (SNOW) and the temperatures (33 DEGREES), there wasn't a huge turnout. Still, I saw a guy running in a furry wolf head. I saw witches and goblins and way too many Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (WHEN WILL THOSE THINGS GO AWAY). I saw a TON of superheroes. But LET ME TELL YOU, PEOPLE. When you are wearing a giant diaper? And knee socks? YOU ARE GOING TO HAVE TO TALK TO SOME FOLKS. It was a total blast, actually. I had so many opportunities to tell people why I was running in a diaper and they were so supportive and thought it was really cool (I suspect because they were wearing CLOTHES and therefore felt RATHER SUPERIOR).

And here is where I show you a video and hold my breath because I might as well be wearing a SWIMSUIT, you guys, these are my VERY NAKED THIGHS I'M ABOUT TO SHOW YOU.

 

 

I'm holding up my end of the bargain here, AM I NOT?

The only time I felt a little weird was (and I admit, this is so my fault for coming off as Creepy Diaper Lady) when I was running behind this dad and his two daughters, and the one daughter was trying to whisper to her dad but she was kind of winded, so it was coming out WAY louder than she intended, and I heard her kind of shout-whisper “THE DIAPER LADY IS RIGHT OVER THERE” and I don't know why I can't pretend not to hear that, but I CAN'T, and I'm all, “I'm RIGHT HERE! Right BEHIND YOU!” like only a Creepy Diaper Lady can and then I had to run faster and pass them because OMG, WHY DID I JUST SAY THAT TO A CHILD. (I finished with an 8:50 pace, though – that's the fastest I've ever knowingly run in my entire life. MUST AVOID  HUMILIATING SELF ANY FURTHER.)

I finished the race with bright red legs and a numb butt (the left side of which was slowly sliding out of my diaper, not that I could feel it) and some mad, mad chafing between my thighs. Oh, you guys, THE IRONY: I ran in a bulky faux diaper and I needed ACTUAL DIAPER CREAM when I got home. Poor Dave – he had to watch me walk around in a diaper for an hour (total mood killer), then he had to sleep next to me reeking of A&D Ointment.

Whatever, it was worth it. It was for a great cause, and more than that, it was actually FUN. Fun! It was FUN running in a diaper, you guys. Thanks for being a part of something so wonderful.

Disclosure: I have partnered with the Huggies® brand to help promote the Huggies® Every Little Bottom program. I have been compensated for my time commitment to the program, which includes writing about it here. However, my opinions are entirely my own.