Cloth Diapers & Panties

Chapter 1 The chirping of the birds outside his bedroom window in the small, single-family home slowly woke eleven-year-old Simon. The boy blinked slightly and opened his eyes. In the distance, the rumble of a tractor engine could be heard, likely heading out into the fields surrounding the small village. Still half-asleep, Simon glanced at his alarm clock sitting on the nightstand beside his bed—and froze. The red digital display read 07:20 AM. He had overslept. School started in thirty minutes. Why hadn't Dad woken him up? Why hadn't his alarm gone off? Simon scrambled out of bed, threw open his wardrobe, and grabbed a random pile of clothes: a pair of short beige shorts, a green T-shirt, underwear, and socks. Clutching the bundle of clothes, he dashed out into the hallway and into his father’s bedroom. The bed was empty. Where was his dad? Then, it suddenly hit him. Dad had to go into the office early today for an important meeting scheduled for 07:30 AM. His father had explicitly reminded him last night, asking him to get up on time because he had to leave by 06:15 AM. Due to major construction on the village’s main road, anyone heading to the neighboring towns had to take a detour, which took significantly longer. With his clothes still in hand, Simon ran into the bathroom, quickly brushed his teeth, and ran a wet comb through his hair. He threw on his clothes and hurried into the kitchen. According to the kitchen clock, it was 07:38 AM. There was absolutely no way he would make it to school on time. Granted, it was the last day of school before the summer holidays, so arriving late wouldn't be a massive deal, but it still felt annoying. In the kitchen, Simon grabbed an apple and a bottle of water, took them back to his room, stuffed them into his backpack, and carried it back to the kitchen. He quickly unplugged his smartphone from the charger and shoved it into his bag as well. Stepping into the hallway, he slipped into his shoes, grabbed his house key from the key rack, and locked the front door behind him. Simon opened the garage, pulled out his bicycle, and sped off. He was already well on his way to school when he realized he had forgotten to put on his helmet. If his dad caught him, he would definitely be in deep trouble. But it was too late to turn back now; he was already almost at the school. He only had to cross one traffic light, so it wasn't much further. Arriving at the school, Simon locked his bike to the rack and walked into the large building. Since classes had already started, the hallways were completely deserted. At least that's one good thing, Simon thought. He made a breaks for his classroom. He didn't waste a single glance at the school kiosk, which usually sold fresh pastries, drinks, and sweets, nor did he look at the substitution board or the main office. Hurrying up the stairs, Simon stood outside his classroom door just moments later. The small sign next to the orange door read R.1.09. Reaching his classroom, he knocked and waited for his homeroom teacher, Mrs. Petersen, to let him in. "Come in," his teacher called out after his knock, giving him permission to enter. Simon opened the door and stepped inside. "Sorry I'm late, Mrs. Petersen, I overslept," the eleven-year-old said to his teacher as he closed the door behind him. The woman, who was in her late thirties, gave him an encouraging smile, just as she had often done ever since his mother had died of leukemia three years ago, but she didn't say anything. Since his mother’s death, he and his father had been on their own. Simon felt how deeply he missed his mother every single day. No more "Clean your room," no more "Please put on a jacket when you go outside"—just silence. How much he used to hate it when his mother scolded him for not tidying up his room, or when she made him do his homework right after lunch before he was allowed to play on his gaming console. Now, he wished for nothing more than to be scolded by his mother again. The boy quietly took his seat. his desk partner and best friend, Matthis, looked over at him. "Everything okay?" he whispered, a worried look in his eyes. "Yep," Simon replied shortly, focusing on the movie they were watching. He had already missed the first few minutes. "Didn't you set an alarm?" Matthis whispered quietly, looking at his friend. "I did, but the thing somehow didn't go off," Simon replied, and they both tried to focus back on the screen. He completely ignored the giggling coming from Tizian and Benjamin, who were sitting diagonally behind him. They were probably making fun of him again; he hadn't missed their looks the moment he walked into the room. He sighed inwardly and tried to refocus on the movie. As the film played, he took a sip of water from his bottle. His mind began to wander. His best friend, Matthis, was flying to Barcelona with his family today for a four-week holiday. His dad was an executive at a large company, which was why the family—consisting of Matthis, his fifteen-year-old sister Lena, and their parents—could afford trips like that. Simon used to go on holidays with his parents a lot too, but not anymore since his mother passed away. It was a shame, really. But when Simon had asked why they didn't go on holiday anymore, Dad had told him that it just wasn't in the cards financially right now. Simon had accepted that and hadn't asked since. When the bell rang for the main recess just as the movie ended, the class flooded out of the room. Once the classroom emptied out, Simon, Matthis, Paul, and Finn headed toward the courtyard. The four friends had known each other since kindergarten and had grown into a tight-knit crew over the years. "Paul and I are going to grab something at the kiosk real quick, hopefully it won't take too long," Finn explained as the boys passed the kiosk. A long queue had already formed in front of it. The chances of them getting served before the end of recess were slim to none. "Yeah, go ahead. Come on, Simon, let's head over to the table tennis tables before the tenth graders claim them again," Matthis shouted. Without waiting for Simon’s reaction, he sprinted out into the yard. Simon couldn't help but smile and ran after him. The schoolyard was a bustling swarm of students. Over nine hundred pupils attended the regular school in the small town. With a clear goal in mind, the boys ran up to one of the three table tennis tables in the yard and hopped onto it. They chatted about football, video games, and other things. Simon took a large gulp from his bottle, ate his apple, and watched, lost in thought, as a few younger kids chased each other across the courtyard. Suddenly, a wave of sadness washed over him. Simon looked down at the ground, deeply lost in thought, his eyes fixed on his black sneakers. "What's wrong, Simon?" his best friend asked suddenly, pulling him back to reality. Simon looked up at him. "Are you sad because I'm going to be away for four weeks?" the twelve-year-old asked. Simon nervously fiddled with the fabric of his shorts and looked back down at the floor. "Mhm," he mumbled sadly, having to pull himself together so he wouldn't start crying. He and Matthis had been best friends since kindergarten and were practically inseparable. "Hey, don't be sad, buddy. I'll be back in four weeks, and thankfully we have messaging apps," Matthis said, trying to cheer his friend up as he threw an arm around Simon's shoulder. Simon looked at him and gave a slight nod. "Ewww, cringe!" Tizian suddenly shouted mockingly, pointing at the two boys. Simon quickly pulled away from Matthis’s arm. What was their annoying classmate and resident bully doing here all of a sudden? "What do you want?" Simon asked the tall boy, sounding thoroughly annoyed. Matthis was about to say something, but he was cut off by the bell signaling the end of recess. Simon and Matthis stood up to head back inside, but as they walked past, Tizian stuck his leg out to trip Simon. Simon stumbled and almost crashed to the ground. He managed to catch his balance at the very last second, narrowly avoiding an intimate meeting with the pavement. "Stop that crap!" Simon yelled angrily, glaring fiercely at Tizian. Tizian just laughed. "Oh, did I hurt the little baby's feelings? What are you gonna do, go cry to your mommy? Oh, wait, you can't. What a shame," Tizian sneered. Fury flared up inside Simon. "Take that back right now!" Simon screamed, shoving the much larger boy forcefully. Tizian wasn't about to take that lying down and lunged at Simon. Within seconds, both boys were wrestling on the ground. By now, half the school had gathered around them, watching the fight unfold. Matthis tried to pull them apart but didn't stand a chance. "Separate, pull apart immediately!" Simon heard a teacher shout loudly. A few moments later, he and Tizian were wrenched away from each other. "Everyone back to your classrooms, there's nothing to see here," another teacher commanded. Shortly after, the crowd dispersed, and everyone headed back inside. "What happened here?" a teacher asked Simon, but he didn't answer. Matthis tried to explain what had happened. Meanwhile, one of the teachers disappeared into the building and returned shortly after with Mrs. Petersen. "Into the classroom, all of you. We will discuss this inside," Mrs. Petersen said firmly. After getting a rough overview of what had happened, she led the boys back into the room. Once inside, the class was instructed to clean up the room and organize their materials. Simon, Tizian, and Matthis were asked by Mrs. Petersen to step out into the hallway for a talk. "Alright, what exactly happened?" the homeroom teacher asked, waiting for an explanation. "Tizian tripped me, so I told him to stop. Then he mocked me and asked if I was going to run to my mom, knowing that I can't. So I shoved him, and then he tackled me," Simon blurted out all at once. After recounting the events to his teacher, he had to stop to take a deep breath. "Stop talking out of your ass, that's not true," Tizian replied coolly, looking at Simon. Of course he's denying it, just like he always does whenever he gets caught, Simon thought bitterly. "It absolutely is true, I saw the whole thing!" Matthis yelled angrily, having stayed out of the conversation until now, glaring furiously at Tizian. Simon could see the sheer anger in his friend's eyes. "Silence!" Mrs. Petersen snapped, looking at each of the boys in turn. Simon flinched slightly at his teacher's sharp tone. "Tizian, I will be contacting your parents. There will be a meeting after school," the teacher informed the boy. Tizian looked thoroughly unamused. "But why? I..." Tizian started to argue, but he was cut off. "I don't want to hear it. Get back inside," Mrs. Petersen stated firmly, making it clear to Tizian that he wasn't going to get away with this. "Simon, please go to the main office to see Mrs. Maier after school dismisses and wait for me there. You and I need to have a chat," Mrs. Petersen requested, looking at the boy after Tizian had shut the classroom door behind him. Simon nodded and followed his teacher back into the classroom. Simon sat quietly at a small table in the school office, waiting for his teacher to arrive. It was 11:30 AM, and school had ended twenty-five minutes ago. Summer holidays. But Simon was not in a holiday mood at all right now. He was terrified of the upcoming conversation. What was going to happen? Would he have to serve detention after the holidays? Resting his chin on his hands, which were laid flat on the table, he stared into space and worried. He had said goodbye to his friends earlier. Matthis had tried to cheer him up, saying the talk probably wouldn't be that bad. But Simon wasn't so sure. When the office door opened, he looked up. His homeroom teacher walked into the room. "Hello, Simon," his teacher greeted him. "Hello," he said softly, looking at her. Mrs. Petersen looked at Simon. "Let's go into the meeting room," she said, leading the way. Simon stood up, grabbed his school bag, and followed his teacher in silence. Once inside the meeting room, they both sat down at a large table. Simon explained once more, in exact detail, what had transpired. When he finished talking, he took a sip from his water bottle. His throat felt as dry as a fish in a desert. "Thank you, Simon. I have already spoken to Tizian and his mother. If anything like this happens again, there will be serious consequences for Tizian—but that applies to you as well. Violence is never the answer, do you understand, Simon?" the educator concluded her speech, looking at the boy. "Furthermore, I just spoke to your father on the phone. As I said, if something like this happens again and Tizian attacks you physically, I will take the necessary measures and involve the school administration," she explained the situation, leaning back in her chair. Simon gave a weak nod. "In that case, I will conclude our talk here and leave it at that," Mrs. Petersen announced, rising from her chair and saying goodbye to him. Simon breathed a massive sigh of relief. Thank goodness his actions didn't have any severe consequences. Why had he overreacted like that? He could have just walked away, and none of this would have happened. But in that exact moment, he had just been so incredibly angry at Tizian. Why did that guy always have to provoke him anyway? The boy never missed an opportunity to torment Simon. Sometimes he would throw crumpled paper balls at Simon's desk, sometimes he would trip him during running exercises in P.E., or mock him because of his height. Simon usually just endured it and tried his best to stay out of Tizian's way. He had seen today what happened when he finally fought back. Leaving the school building in silence, Simon fetched his bicycle and rode home. After putting his bike in the garage and closing the garage door via the remote control, the boy walked into the house through the connecting side door. With his school bag in hand, Simon was just about to head upstairs to his room when his father had other plans. "Wait, Simon, we need to talk," he said, looking at him. Simon stopped dead in his tracks. "I received a phone call from your homeroom teacher earlier," his dad began. Simon nodded. "I'm not angry, Simon. If something is bothering you or someone is teasing you, just remove yourself from the situation and take a deep breath. That always helps me when I'm angry," he explained to his son, offering advice on how to better manage his anger. Simon nodded again. The boy hugged him, and his father gently stroked his back. "Thanks, Dad," Simon muttered softly. They stayed in the embrace for a while. After pulling apart, Simon went upstairs to his room. Simon sat down on his bed and let his gaze wander around the room. The wardrobe stood on the left side of the room, right next to the desk. On the right side, the bed was pushed up straight against the wall. To the right of his bed was his PC—a gaming PC. While Simon mostly played on the console in the living room, he found that first-person shooters like Call of Duty played significantly better on a PC with a mouse and keyboard. The entire room was decorated with various posters of sleek sports cars, football players, and other celebrities, like musicians. A large green rug covered the floor to make the room look a bit cozier. Years ago—four years, to be exact—a play rug had been lying there, and the rest of the room used to be a lot wilder and messier than it was now. A car-shaped bed had stood against the wall instead of the teenager bed, the gaming PC had been missing, various children's posters featuring superheroes lined the walls, and Lego bricks were scattered everywhere. Simon couldn't help but smile thinking back to how messy his room used to be. Once, when Mom came in to wake him up for school, she had almost stepped on his Lego spaceship and had to zigzag across the room just to reach his bed. He had only pretended to be asleep, laughing hysterically inside as his mother navigated her way through the "laser beams"—his Lego bricks—like a spy in a movie just to get to him. At least, that was how he had imagined it. When his mother finally reached him, she had taken him into her arms and cuddled him, just like she did every morning. A lot had changed here since then. The child's room had turned into a teenager's room, his Lego was now stored away in the basement, and his mother was no longer there. Just gone. Taken from them by leukemia, forever. The eleven-year-old sat on his bed for a while longer, lost in thought. Suddenly, his phone buzzed. He picked up the device from his desk and saw that Matthis had texted him. "So, what happened in the meeting? Hope nothing bad," he read. His fingers flew across the keyboard. "Mrs. Petersen said she spoke to Tizian and his mom, and if he does anything like that again, there will be consequences. Same goes for me, but other than that, she left it at that," Simon texted back. "Phew, thank goodness. Tizian is such an asshole," Matthis replied quickly. "Gotta go, we're heading to the airport now. Don't let things get to you," he added shortly after. "Nah, I won't. Have a safe flight and have fun in Barcelona," Simon wrote, ending their chat. They sent each other a laughing emoji, and a moment later, his best friend went offline. For a while, Simon stared at the screen, tapping on it aimlessly to distract himself from his thoughts. "Simon, dinner!" he suddenly heard his father call from downstairs. He quickly placed his smartphone back on the desk and headed down to the kitchen. The rich aroma of Spaghetti Bolognese—Simon’s absolute favorite meal—was already wafting through the air. He was starving. No wonder, considering he had only eaten an apple this morning. They talked during dinner. Simon recounted how they had spent the last day of school, and his father talked about his work. The kitchen radio played soft music in the background. After dinner, his father signed his report card—a 2.3 grade point average. Simon was very pleased with his grades, as he had worked particularly hard this school year. The soon-to-be sixth-grader took the signed report card upstairs to his room, tucked it into his report folder, and slid the folder into his school bag. He then banished the bag to the furthest corner under his desk, where it would remain for the next six weeks. The boy then walked down to the living room. The living room was furnished quite comfortably. A large beige rug lay underneath the black leather couch, topped by a large, wood-colored coffee table holding a TV guide and the remote control. Many pictures, mostly family photos, hung on the living room wall, and a sideboard filled with all kinds of decorations stood on the right side. A large 65-inch television hung on the wall, mounted above a matching wood-colored media console equipped with a gaming console and a Blu-ray player. A large window front with white curtains offered a nice view of the garden. Finally, a large brown dining table with six chairs rounded out the space. Simon sat down on the couch, turned on the TV and the console, and started playing. A gaming session was exactly what he needed right now, the boy decided. He barely noticed his father taking his laptop upstairs to his home office to do some work. The digital display on the clock radio read 05:32 PM. Simon lay in his bed with his eyes closed. He had suddenly felt like listening through the tracks of his favorite band again. He had bought the album with all their songs a few months ago at a large electronics chain using his pocket money. Even though there were various music streaming services available nowadays that offered a massive selection of music across all genres for a flat monthly fee, Simon preferred physical media. On one hand, he found it nicer to hold an actual album in his hands rather than just owning it digitally. On the other hand, thanks to the higher bitrate, a CD sounded significantly better than a streamed track. Especially when paired with his high-quality PC speakers, it was an entirely different experience. It was just better—at least for Simon. Simon sat up abruptly, walked over to his desk, and opened the drawer. It was filled with all sorts of knick-knacks: pens, sticky notes, erasers, but no CD. Strange. Where had he put it this time? There was only one other place the CD could be: the wardrobe. Opening the two doors of the wardrobe, he pulled out a stack of clothes first to get a better overview, placing them on the floor beside him. Simon started rummaging through an orange storage box. After a few tries, he found the album he was looking for, but there was another CD inside the box as well. "Private," was written on it in permanent marker. Simon grew curious. His favorite band would have to wait a moment. Holding the disc in his hand, he went over to his PC and powered it up. Once the computer had booted, Simon removed the CD from its clear case and inserted it into the drive. The disc contained many pictures: from his first birthday, kindergarten, various birthday parties, and his first day of school. Suddenly, his eyes caught a video file. "Christmas 2020." Simon quickly opened the video, and it started playing moments later. The video showed him and his parents. The family was celebrating Christmas, unwrapping presents. "Wow, a Nerf Gun! Thanks, Mom!" Simon cried out in the video, unwrapping the gift with pure excitement before throwing his arms around his mother. "You're welcome, my sweetheart," his mother replied, kissing her son on the cheek. His mother looked so incredibly happy in the video; everything was perfect. Simon kept watching the video but quickly realized it wasn't a good idea. He could no longer hold back his emotions. All the anger, sadness, and pain that Simon had suppressed for so long came bursting out of him. At first, it was just a quiet weep, but after a few seconds, it turned into full-blown sobbing. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and shortly after, his father's strong arms guided him over to his bed. Thankfully, the video had ended by then. Simon just cried, letting all the emotions out. For a while, the boy rested his head against his father's shoulder, letting his dad comfortingly stroke his back. "It's okay, big guy," his dad muttered softly every now and then. "I am so incredibly proud of you, my boy, just like your mom would be proud of you right now," his father said after a few minutes of silence, looking at his son. "Mhm," the boy mumbled quietly, wiping his tear-stained eyes dry with his T-shirt. "What do you say we make my Pizza Speziale?" his father asked his son once Simon had calmed down, sitting cross-legged on his bed. The corners of Simon's mouth turned up automatically. "Whoa, yes! I'm already heading down," he cried out, jumping off his bed in a flash. His father smiled. "I'll be right down. I'm going to tidy up a bit here. Wash your hands and put on your apron, don't forget!" his father called out after him, but Simon had already bolted down the stairs. There was simply nothing better than his dad's homemade pizza.    

Yes it's a long term catheter, well over 2 years this time round. It's a silicone foley catheter draining into a leg bag and night bag on a stand at night. No sensitivity once it settled down, to be honest I can't really feel it and am at the point where I prefer to be catheterised. The last time I tried going without my catheter I  experienced incontinence with dribbling urine most of the time with occasional gushes if I moved when sitting.  After a few hours the prostate tightened up and restricts the flow a little, which makes the incontinence more unpredictable. Nappies/diapers are necessary.

I am a big fan of the bright blue.  I have a number of different diapers in that colour and I'm happy to see that Northshore is making one too.  I have a couple of pairs of their Trifecta plastic pants in the bright blue that I really like too...  

I'm actually in a Northshore GoSupreme Max Overnight pull-up right now.  I'm surprised at just how well these have held up.  I'm two wettings in with no sign of leaks.  Interesting.... 

*ALL NEW, TACTICAL GRADE, MIL-SPEC SUPER FLUFF DIAPERS IN PINK* I'd wear em  😁