My Needy Never Nude
By: The Mediocre Mama
Tags: Baby, Mommy Bloggers, Arrested Development, Change, Moms

I thought I was weird about having my clothes off, but this kid is another level. Years of being a woman in a very body shaming society has made me exceptionally hard on my appearance, so naked has never been my favorite outfit. Then add being post baby, where the physical changes are, confusing. I’m supposed to feel empowered. I’m supposed to feel like a warrior goddess who just performed a miracle. I’m supposed to worship at the alter of my body. At least these are the things my feminist colleagues assert. But I do not feel these things.

I mostly feel like I’ve started a book with no context. Like every page is a devastating plot twist, but no matter what, I cannot put the book down. I’m glued. Hooked. In it. I also feel like I’m reading this book naked in front of a class of people, hunched over a stool so every roll is perfectly stacked on every other roll. Or I feel like I’m on the Truman show, and every ridiculous instance of being pooped on or spit up on is on display for millions of eager viewers all waiting for me to make a mistake. I do not disappoint. Viewership is up. The network is happy. Me? Eh, I’m doing okay. I’d like to be getting paid more, or at all, but I digress.

My little guy is a needy never nude. Tobias Funke anyone? Although he does not wear a pair of cut off jean shorts under all his onesies, see Arrested Development, he rarely ever has more than half of his body exposed to the air at one time. When he does, it’s chaos. You’d think I was burning his beloved binkie, and simultaneously forcing him to do tummy time while I laughed maniacally at his screams of bloody murder. This aversion led me to create a changing system. The trick, placing his new onesie under his dressed body, unzipping and removing his legs, putting his legs into the new onesie, partially zipping, removing his arms from the old onesie, and finally inserting his arms into the new onesie and completely zipping it up. Voila. A masterpiece of clothing change. A veritable Houdini routine, worthy of an audience. Okay, so it’s not that special. Lengthy? Kind of. Worth it? Totally.

What led me to determine this song and dance was worth the effort you ask? I knew early on that naked was not his thing, but I learned how not his thing one brisk January day. The wind was nipping outside, my eyes were heavy with the sleep I did not get from the night before, and the dog was licking to my ankles nervously. My angel blew his diaper out, audibly. It is what it sounds like. All his back was covered in his own mess and his onesie was done-zo. As he screamed, I frantically ran him into his room, tripping over the dog in route to his changing table. I hadn’t quite figured out how to get a plastic changing pad under him yet, and was in no right state to think it through. I placed him down and speedily stripped him. Louder screaming. I got the diaper off, with a fresh one ready and waiting to hit the front lines, wiped him clean, and closed the new diaper. Louder screaming. In an effort to ease his irritation, I grabbed the nearest blanket and quickly wrapped him it, then pulled him close. In return for the sweetness I’d shown him and deliberate care of agility, he promptly grabbed my hair with both hands, drew my face close to his, and shrieked at the top of his lungs. I was shook. I was gagged. I was so… Angry!

It’s crazy what that sound can do to your nervous system. I have found myself screaming into pillows, slapping walls, because punching just seems dangerous, and angry crying into my dog. The sounds can just make your brain go haywire, and your body in response shut down all reasonable actions. That was the last time I let him be naked not prior to bath time, the last time. And not that that has ended the sounds, but it was a lesson at how to avoid at least one of his triggers. These sounds can still be heard when he’s too tired, too hungry, too wet and merely too annoyed for his own good. I am getting better at coping, but I have my moments. I just make sure that I’m not holding him when I’m having one. A wise woman once told me to put him in a safe location and exit the room until you recover your sanity. Sage advice.