2011

Escaping Daycare Pat 2    “Wake up Marizia. You gotta get ready to go.”    “But mom, it's Saturday.” I whined.    “I have work today so you're going to daycare.”    I sat up with fear in my heart. The thought of my first full day back in the little kid room made me sick to my stomach.    “Mom, I've been meaning to talk to you about that.”    “About what?”    “Well I'm 18 now and I'm gonna be done with high school in a few months. I'll be moving out soon so shouldn't I be staying home alone? Ya know, as practice.”    “Well kiddo, if you had asked me that a few days ago I might have said yes and maybe I would have tried you out staying home alone for an hour or two and let you build up from there. But you ran away from daycare and caused a big commotion, so no. You're staying in daycare and you're going to keep going even when you're in college.”    “What!? No! I can't still be going to daycare during college! Mom please!” I begged.    “I'm sorry, but immature decisions get immature punishments. Maybe I'll consider trusting you in your second year.” Mom flipped back the covers of my bed and checked my diaper, “Wet and poopy, just like the little kid you've shown me you are.”    Mom quickly took my diaper off and wiped me clean, then I went to the bathroom to take a shower, one of the few times of the day I got to experience life without padding between my legs.    After the shower I came back to my room and mom was sitting in my desk chair, going through my papers.    “Moooom.” I whined, “Those are my private things.”    “Yeah, well sometimes a mother has to be more concerned. These poems are disturbing.” She read one allowed, “Suffering of sickness, a suffocating stiffness, trapped inside a child's life, any clean escape I’d like.”    “I'm sorry, but it's true. I don't wanna be in daycare anymore!” I raised my voice, “and I wanna learn how to change myself.”    “We've tried you changing yourself before Marizia. You always leak.” Mom said sharply.    “The last time we tried was years ago! I was like 12. We can try again.” I begged.    “Maybe in a few months, after I cool down from what you did, but I won't reward bad behaviour.”    I put my head in my hands and sighed. Mom laid me down on the bed and put me into a fresh diaper. I picked out a comfortable outfit. An oversized t-shirt, some sweatpants and a cardigan. Then Mom and I quickly ate some breakfast and went out the door.    The drive there was quiet and awkward. But as I was climbing out of the car, mom said, “I love you.”    “I rolled my eyes at her and slammed the door as I walked into daycare.    In the main hallways I saw Coltrain. A cool, calm and relaxed black guy with dreadlocks who was  29 years old. “Hey Marizia.” He said with a gentle smile.    “Hey Coltrain.” I said, trying to seem positive for him even though I felt nauseous.   As I was putting my stuff away in my cubby I had a thought. “Coltrain wasn't here on the day I escaped. Maybe he doesn't know I'm supposed to be in the little kid room.” I thought.   I turned around and walked casually to the big kid room. I was stopped in my tracks by the feeling of his strong hand on my shoulder.”    “Sorry Sprout.” He said, “Delores says you're full time in the little kid room now.” He directed me back towards the little kid room with his strength and I walked straight in.    I looked around and saw Caidance checking one kid's diaper. I saw Mia who I hated because she was only 16 and already one of the daycare staff.    I walked to the back of the room and wedged myself between the toy chest and the Lego shelf, trying to hide myself as best I could.    “This is bullshit. I should be in the big kid room playing PS2. What am I gonna do all day, play with toys, talk to little kids?” I sulked. “I'm 18, I shouldn't even be in daycare at all. If I didn't need these stupid diapers I’d be walking around town on a Saturday hanging out with my friends.”    “Hey Marizia, you seem troubled.” Mia approached me.   “Please go away. I'm embarrassed enough. I don't need-” Mia interrupted me.   “Hey, it's ok Marizia. You don't need to be embarrassed. Keeping you in the little kid room doesn't say anything about you. It's just the best way we have to keep you safe.” She said softly.    “I don't wanna be kept safe. I wanna be out having fun with friends my own age.”    “Well they may not be your age, but there's a lot of people here who'd like to be friends with you. If you talked to some of em I think you'd find you have a lot in common.”    I groaned. “I don't have anything in common with these toddlers.”    “Don't feel bad, Marizia. It shouldn't matter if they're a little bit more advanced than you are.”    “They're more advanced than me!?” I raised my voice.    “Cool your jets, little Sprout.” Mia said, “Most of the other tots here are fully potty trained.”    “I'm incontinent. From a serious health condition.” I growled.    “I think that's just an excuse. You just need to work harder and learn to control it. You need to believe in yourself.”    “Shut up Mia!!!” I screamed. I stood up and stomped my feet. “You think I haven't worked hard to figure this out! That I haven't agonized over getting out of diapers every day! This is agony, it's disgusting. Being covered in my own piss and shit! How dare you imply that I'm not trying to get out of this!”    Coltrain walked up to us. “Marizia, are you alright?” He asked, a little shaken by my yelling.    “No l, Coltrain, I'm not alright. I'm an 18 year old going to daycare and I'm sick of it.” I walked confidently out the door, into the hallways then I stepped out onto the front deck and leaned against the halfwall with both hands. I breathed the fresh air as tears fell down my face. “Goig outside should be my right. It should be my privilege. I work hard like everyone else my age. I have straight A’s, I don't drink or do drugs. Hell I've never even had sex. But no. I'm stuck here.”    Coltrain walked out of the building and put his hand on my shoulder. “Hey, Marizia. I know you said you're not alright. I guess what I really wanted to ask was, how can I help?”    The tears began to flow even harder as I collapsed into a deep cry. I smothered myself in Coltrain’s chest and weeped into his green staff T-shirt. Coltrain was comfortable just rubbing my back and being with me.    “It's alright. I know this must be hard for you.” He mumbled.    “It is.” I sniffled.    “But you're gonna get through this and besides you're 18 which means you'll be heading to college soon. No more mom to make you go to daycare.”    I weeped harder and grabbed his shirt tightly. “Mom said she's gonna make me go to daycare even when I'm in college!”    “Woah, hey, it's ok. Marizia, she can't make you do that. Once you're out on your own she won't have any authority over you. I say you graduate high school and you get a job and you move out over the summer.”    “I think-” I hiccupped, “I think I need to.”    “Definitely. We love having you Marizia. But we don't wanna see you suffer either. Do you wanna come back inside for now?”    “Not with Mia in there.” I sniffled.    “I don't think Mia's gonna be there much longer. I think Delores and Eveline are chewing her out in the office.” Coltrain explained.    “Really?” I looked up at him.   “Yeah. I saw them take her in there.”    “Can I come in in a minute? I just want some time to gather myself.”    “Sure.” Coltrain said, “I'll just go down the stairs and stand in the parking lot so I can keep an eye on you while you do what you need to.”    “Ok.” I agreed.    Coltrain went down the stairs and I found myself alone, kinda.    I stared out at the open road. I watched the breeze blow through the grass and shake the trees. I watched birds flying free and thought of them like cousins. “I wanna be free like them. I feel like a bird in a cage. This is a big soft cage, that I can never leave.” I looked down at Coltrain and he was still watching me from the parking lot. I saw two teenagers walk past on the sidewalk. “I could hop off this deck and run from Coltrain. On the off chance I'm faster than him I could be free… For the day at least. But escaping again would just extend my entrapment longer.”    I felt a rumble in my abdomen. “No.” I said outloud, then suddenly I filled my diaper with hot mess. “Nooohohooo.” I whined, more years coming from my eyes.    “You ok, Marizia?” Coltrain called out.    “Yeah, I'm fine.” I tried to lie.    “Did you poop?” He asked.    “No!” I walked quickly into the daycare and back into the little kid room, tucking myself back into my little wedge between the Lego shelf and toy box.    Coltrain came in shortly after. He smiled and nodded at me, but kept to himself.    In some time I saw Mia getting escorted out, then Delores came to talk to me.   “Hey Marizia.” She said.    “What?” I looked up at her sadly.    “It wasn't right, the way Mia talked to you. We've decided she'll only be tending to the big kid room from now on.”    I sighed. “Does that mean I'll be stuck in here for a long time?” I asked.    “That's something else I wanted to talk to you about.” Delores sat down on the floor in front of me, which was hard at her age and size. “Eveline and some other staff have noticed that you no longer feel comfortable being here under supervision.”    “What tipped you off?” I rolled my eyes.    Delores coughed and allowed the comment to blow past. “Marizia. We wanna offer you a deal. We know that you're a big kid. You're the oldest kid we have in the daycare. But nevertheless you have to be brought to the little kid room to have your diapers changed. So access to this room is necessary for you.”    “Yeah.” I groaned quietly.   “We know that if it weren't for the diaper changes you likely wouldn't need as much supervision as you do. So we wanna offer you a position.”    “Like a job?” I asked, shocked but interested.    Delores took a second to phrase things right. “Like a modified job. We have two kinds of employees here: Licensed Early Childhood educators, like Me, Eveline and Coltrain and then Daycare helpers like Mia and Caidance.”    “That makes sense.”    “We wanna make you a jr helper.”    “A jr helper?” I asked.    “Well obviously you still need to be supervised just a little. But we know you're mature enough to be given a higher position. So we want you to help us out with watching and caring for the littler kids in the daycare. Of course the rest of us will still check and change you and we'll still give you lunch and make sure you leave with your mom. But other than that, it'll be just like you're a staff member.”    “Will I get paid?” I asked.    “No sweetie. We need to be paid to watch you. This is more of an honorary thing.”    “So my mom will be paying for me to have a job.” I said dryly.    “Or you can choose to stay as just a regular little kid. It's up to you. I just thought you might want some opportunities to talk with an older crowd and experience a bit more freedom.”    “What freedoms would I get?”    “We're willing to let you in on grown up conversations and staff decisions. We'll give you supervised access to the staff area for coffee and snacks and you can decide which activities you wanna participate in and which you wanna help with from the outside.”    “So no more quiet circle? Or water balloon fights when I'm wearing makeup?” I nodded my head, “I’m in! I'll be your jr helper.” I shook her hand and we smiled at each other.    “Let's get you a staff shirt!” Delores smiled.    She walked off and I followed her out to the hall and into Eveline's office. My new life was set in stone. I'm a jr helper.   

Yeah that’s rough dude,  Though it’s interesting I was just talking about this at work, I was like  “ it many people realize this, but it’s important that some people work on Labor Day because sometimes some people need things done on their day off that needs to be taken care of or they need to get something so they can relax on Labor Day, because it would REALLY suck not having these services accusing the weekend.” And I would know I worked though Labor Day weekend including today, but it doesn’t bother me I look forward to helping others.   anyways I hope your toothache gets sorted out soon

interesting ,, Thank you  for posting

Mini-Story: Just A Few More Bites. “Just a couple more bites!” Mommy says. “Then you’ll be ready for your birthday!” You groan in your highchair and try not to grab your stomach. It doesn’t help- it never helps- so why do it? Your mouth is crusted with crumbs. Your bib is frosted over with chocolate. You’re so full that you’ve stopped breathing through your nose. Mommy stands in front of your highchair, holding a cake filled spoon ready for consumption. You lean forward, open your mouth, and accept the offering. You chew, but it’s hard to make yourself swallow. The spot against the back of your throat that smiles every time you take a bite is actively frowning. Too many more bites, your body warns and this cake won’t be leaving the normal way. “Milk?” Daddy sloshes a bottle in front of you.  But you just shake your head. You don’t have the room and the extra liquid would make it leave out the front easier. You chew and chew and chew and chew. It doesn’t even taste good anymore. All you taste is sweetness. Your mouth refuses to keep making saliva to digest it. Your mouth might as well be filled with chocolate covered dirt. But you have to.  You have to if you want to grow up. Big kids eat big birthday cakes, and if you’re not able to finish this one, it will be another year as a big dumb baby.  Same as every other year. You’re almost done. Just one slice left. You can do this. You know you can.  You lean forward again, but not to take another bite. You’ve worked on this little trick all year.  You start making room. You take a deep breath, buff out your cheeks, and push as hard as you can, filling the seat of your already soaking wet diaper.  “Looks like somebody’s making room,” Daddy jokes. You just nod through the embarrassment and keep pushing. Past the first push it comes out on its own. It’s a lot of sugar and you’ve had a lot of practice filling your pants these last couple of years. Finally it’s going to pay off.  The amount of swelling pressure and aching inside of you is directly inversely proportional to the stinky mush that is spreading along your backside.  You open your mouth for another breath and keep pushing. Mommy slips another spoonful of cake in, but that doesn’t matter. You’re making room. The smell doesn’t bother you because your nose is already clogged and the feeling doesn’t bother you because after the first push, it’s basically ALL poop down there and half of the ick comes from the contrasting textures (and knowing what they are)  You can barely remember the first time you had an accident like this- it’s happened so many times- but this will definitely be the last.  You can’t help it, but you smile as you settle back down and feel the mess settle in your pampers.  Is this what victory feels like? No. No it does not. Something sloshes against the back of your thighs and the blood drains away from your face. You’ve been wearing diapers for so long that sometimes you can barely tell when you’re peeing. You’ve also been wearing them for so long that you know when your diaper has utterly failed. “Uh-oh!” Daddy says.  “Looks like somebody had a blowout!” “Too bad!” Mommy coos. She takes the tray off your high chair.  Daddy puts the bottle he was holding down and hoists you out of it. “Oh well,” he said. Next year?  “But I wasn’t done!” You whine like a little toddler.  “I’m a big kid!” Daddy pats your padded backside, slightly rearranging the contents of your diaper. (Spreading feels like a misnomer. It’s already everywhere.)  “Big kids don’t have messy accidents so big that they have a blowout,” he tells you, smugly. “And,” Mommy reminds you, “If you want to grow up big strong, you have to eat your cake ALL in one sitting. “And a diaper change makes it more than one sitting.” Daddy chimes in. “And we’d be terrible parents if we let you sit in a diaper that wasn’t working anymore.” They’re carrying you- no, parading you-back to your nursery, back to your changing table where they will strip you, wipe you, powder you, and re-diaper you.   And so it will be for at least another year.   “Don’t worry,” Mommy says. “We can finish the rest of your cake after the change. For practice!” You suddenly don’t feel like cake anymore. (Fin)  

Triple Paste is good stuff. It’s the cream you go to when your normal routine doesn’t work and you need to call in the backup.