Little Sherri

This is one of the challenges faced by those of us in "this" line of interests who have families. Obviously, no sane person is going to seek to live openly as an adult baby in a household with kids in it, but this interest is unique in that it can create dependencies that bleed over into everyday life, whereas being into, say, S&M play, can probably be kept in the boudoir. Keep the basement dungeon locked. "What's in there?" "Water heater. Water heaters are dangerous. Never go in there." I've been 24/7 for coming up on 6 years, and I'm married and have kids in their teens. I never set out to let them know about "this" side of me, and I believe I still haven't, in the sense that diapers haven't been identified as a "kink" accessory. However, wearing diapers all the time inevitably results in 24 X 7 X 365 chances that even the best security will be breached, and that's what happened to me. My wife decided to assign my younger daughter the task of emptying the trash cans, a few years ago, and meanwhile, I had left a diaper in our bathroom garbage can, because I had just showered. I was planning on transplanting the contents to my hidden diaper can in a few minutes, but my wife beat me to the punch. Hilariously, my daughter thought that it belonged to my wife, but my wife did not find this hilarious, so I had to come clean... sort of. My daughter was a bedwetter, and she and I had talked about my having the same history, so I leaned into that, and said that I was wearing them "because I needed to again", but that this was uncommon, and she didn't need to worry about it happening to her, in all likelihood, until she was much older than I was, if ever. She seemed to accept this, although of course, she told her older sister within about 5 minutes. I also emphasized that, just as we didn't talk about her wearing pull-ups in front of her friends, so it went that we didn't talk about anyone else's underwear outside of the family, either. So, here I am, having leaned into a "non-worrisome" medical explanation, now "openly" wearing diapers - sort of. I don't walk around in them, anymore than I would my underwear. But it is nice not to have to be at 100% security levels all the time, at home, and it helps when, say, one of them busts through our bedroom door without knocking, not to have to jump behind the bed like I've been shot by a sniper, if I happen to be midway through getting dressed. Or, when a case of diapers gets left on the front porch by UPS, I don't have to make up stories about it being files sent from my office. Nobody wants to know anything about their parents' love interests or kinks, at least in my opinion, so going down any other road would be a non-starter, at least for me. The bottom line is that people wear diapers for medical or developmental reasons, and there are commercials on TV about it, and aisles at the grocery and drug stores dedicated to it, which will back up your contention that it's not that abnormal or remarkable. While wearing diapers hasn't exactly been destigmatized in our society, neither is it looked at like wearing a leather gimp mask to go pick up milk. But, you always have to put their interests first - you'll be amazed how fast the time goes by; they're really only little kids for a blink of an eye. You'll have lots of time to build the nursery of your dreams (if that's your dream), after they move out; I'd suggest leaving that level of attempted self-actualization, until after you have discharged your primary parental duties.

I was watching part of one of those TLC shows, My 600 LB Life. Generally, I find that, and Hoarders, to be harrowing to watch, almost mental illness porn, but my friend's wife had happened upon it while flipping through channels during the intermission of a hockey game, and it wasn't my TV, and I didn't have any say. There are two kinds of people in the world... well, maybe three, when it comes to what you do while watching televised content, when ads come on. Some people immediately flip to another channel, trying to find something, anything, to watch, until the commercials are over, or until they start up on the channel you just flipped to, which often happens, because they tend to coordinate these things, I suspect, for precisely that reason. The second type of person stoically watched the ads. The third type, among which I count myself, reaches for the mute button, and their phone. The flippers can irritate me, because they are never very precise about when they go back to the original programming, and if they happen upon something more interesting, might never go back. That would be, I guess, serendipitous for them, but, I came over to watch the game, so... hey, let's see if the game's back on, maybe? But, again, not my TV. The people I was sitting with, my buddy and his wife, know I wear diapers. I don't flaunt them, just as I know they wear underpants of some sort, and they don't flaunt them, but I also don't go to the lengths I would go to, with those not within "the circle of trust." Case in point, they like to wear comfy clothes around the house, if the are comfortable with you - they all basically wear pajama pants if it's anytime after about 9 PM, or before 11 AM (on a weekend), if it's a relaxed atmosphere, IE not "hosting company." And because I've made so many appearances, stayed over so many times, babysat their house, they've babysat mine, I don't count as company. For which I am honoured. So, I will hang around with them in my comfy pants, usually track pants, which I have in my overnight bag. They don't do as good a job of hiding a diaper as my jeans do, but they're not form-fitting, so they don't advertise it, either. When I'm in a plastic diaper, you can definitely hear it more, but that doesn't matter. So, we were watching the hockey game, and then during the intermission, she flipped over to this story, midway through, about a morbidly obese guy who needed to travel to Texas, and drop a certain amount of weight on his own, before he would qualify for bariatric weight-loss surgery of some sort. He was on a plane with his brother, and this unfortunate individual took up two airline seats, and looked very uncomfortable during the flight, basically filling the entire space between his seats, and the ones in front of him. He also had to turn sideways, and shuffle down the aisle, in order to get on or off the plane, so they loaded him first, and unloaded him last. They couldn't use a wheelchair until he got off the plane, because he wouldn't fit in one that could be rolled up that aisle. I was amazed they tried to transport him that way, actually. I think he might have been better off in a van, even if that took 20 hours. But it wasn't my decision. Anyway, towards the end of the flight, he's being asked how he's doing, and he says, very candidly, "I need to get out of this diaper." Which provided the answer, which I already suspected, to the question, "How the hell is he going to go to the bathroom if he needs to?" I don't know if he meant he needed to get out of "this diaper" and out of diapers in general, which had been a practical but temporary wardrobe decision, or if he just meant that he needed to change his diaper after a few hours trapped in one position on a plane, but either way, I felt a connection with him. I am not morbidly obese (at least not yet), but I have felt that "I really want out of this diaper, but I can't just yet" feeling many times. Given his lack of mobility, I suspect disposable underpants are part of the deal for him. At the same time, his saying that on the big screen TV to all of us made me immediately think of my own diaper, and then my face started turning red, and then I was wondering if anyone could tell my face was turning red, so I tried not to look at them, and then I wondered if I was being obvious in not looking at anyone, when we were engaged in animated conversations about every minute or two. Finally, I drained my beer, hoped that any glow I might be carrying would be attributed to ethanol, and then I asked if anyone else needed a drink, to which my buddy replied in the affirmative, and I "crunch-crinkle-crunched" myself over to their fridge, and came back with two beers. By then, the guy on TV was lamenting that there was nowhere in the airport that he could change his diaper, so he'd have to wait until he got back to the hotel. I had recently had a "trapped in a diaper" airport experience (well, pull-up), and part of me wanted to just be completely open and say, "Ha ha, I've been stuck in a diaper in an airport, too", or something to that effect, but I stifled the impulse. We are all very good friends, and we talk about many things quite openly - finances, relationships, kids, jobs, our health - so I probably could have just candidly said, "I know how that feels," or even tried to spin the humourous tale of my wearing a pull-up through the TSA because it was slimmer, but then it leaked when I was in the bar, and I had to dry my pants in the bathroom... but I decided not to dwell on it, and a moment later, we were flipped back to the hockey game, and the conversation went in the direction of scores and standings and playoff matchups. It will probably be a while until the Universe drops a "natural" opportunity to talk about wearing diapers again; maybe next time, I'll a bit more open to it.

God bless the Princess Pinks by Rearz; I had forgotten how comfy and capable they are. I have a bag of them in my inventory, but they linger in in a tub on the bottom shelf in the basement, and often don't see the light, because they're a bit small on me, and, well, they're so, so pink. The lower tabs don't fully make the landing zone, so if I am going to wear one, once it's taped on, it has to stay on, or else I will need to conduct repairs on one side, after taking it off. But the main "problem" is the pinkness; I'm not bashful about wearing absurd underpants in front of my spouse, but... they feel a little like wearing girls' underwear, I guess. On the one hand, a diaper is a diaper is a diaper, white, pink, blue, polka dotted, the main point, as my wife has pointed out, isn't the esthetics, it's the facts - you're wearing taped-on baby pants. She's never directly said anything about most of my printed diapers, including the Princess Pinks, Lil' Bella's or pink MegaMax's I have had in my inventory - I've experimented with every description of nappy. I think I detect maybe a slightly faster eyeroll, in the very juvenile, and/or effeminate ones, but it's probably mostly in my head. Esthetics aside, they are a comfy, capable, crinkly diaper that leave you feeling gently pampered for the duration of their service.

Agreed! I used to worry about it, but now I realize that either it just doesn't register, or nobody knows what they're hearing, for the most part. I've had family members who know I wear diapers say that they can hear them, say, if I'm trying to sneak up on them somewhere, but in general, people who don't know just don't put two and two together. And I live the sound of a crinkly diaper, a gentle tap on the shoulder reminding me that I'm wearing them.

I think that going 24/7 was part of making diapers "normal" for me; I'd worn them as a kid, and obviously wasn't "turned on" by them - I just knew from a very early age that I liked them, but I didn't know why. It wasn't until I outgrew needing them, and started going through puberty, that they took on a "sexual" aspect, at which point I walked away from being a DL for a couple of decades, after my stepdad found my stash of homemade diapers, and yelled at me in front of my family. Rediscovering this aspect of my psyche as an adult, diapers became a sexual thing, but in addition to "quick thrills", if you will, I felt a deeper longing to be in them. We could talk all day about the causation of that - books have been written about it, and many of us have engaged in "why am I like this" self-analysis, but the bottom line (if you'll excuse the pun) is that once I started wearing diapers all the time, it being impossible to be perpetually "turned on", I was able to eventually reconnect with those deeper, nostalgic feelings of comfort that I used to get from wearing diapers, as a kid, which were unrelated to erotic endeavors. They can still be a turn-on, but they don't have to be.

I suspect this would be of value only with the profoundly immobile, and it also raises the question... rather than using a cheap diaper, and a cheap pad, maybe go with a better diaper? I used to play around with using boosters or stuffers, but more than half a decade wearing diapers has brought me around to an understanding that most of the time, I will have to change before a decent diaper has been completely saturated, because I have to run errands, or people are coming over, and it's my preference not to undertake those activities in a diaper that is at the twilight of its career. Plus, the artful integration of two unrelated products tends to produce artful failure modes - again, maybe this would not be an issue for a person who intends to remain in more or less the same position, perpetually, but if you need to climb a ladders or drive cars or walk up and down staircases, the odds are that your delicately-folded origami capacity-improvement solution will become a sluice, directing stormwaters to places they were not intended to gather. Interesting video, though - I learned something about the structure of Japanese!

I am religious about using diaper cream; I generally use the off-the-shelf Parent's Choice stuff, because it smells like baby powder, works well, and is relatively inexpensive, so I can use it generously. I used to only employ it when I felt diaper rash developing, but then I made the decision to use it preventatively, and have never looked back. I use baby powder, mostly because I like the scent - I'm not convinced it makes much difference to my skin. It absorbs a little moisture, but within the "climate" of a typical diaper, I suspect it is totally overwhelmed, pretty much right out of the gate. I reach for the medicated antifungal spray if I develop diaper rash that goes beyond a "slight sunburn" level, having learned my lesson about pernicious, malignant diaper rash, and how much impact it can have on my quality of life, if not taken seriously.

During the pandemic's many restarts and sputters, I acquired some cloth facemasks from Rearz in their Dinosaur pattern. I was tempted to wear them, but slightly worried about identifying myself as a "diaperist" to others; I'd only been on my 24/7 "journey" for a couple of years, however. Now, I would agree with the above sentiments, and would probably wear them, knowing that only those "in the know" would know, and that's kind of the point. However, I also hope that there is no call to resume masking anytime soon, so my social experiment will have to wait for the next plague. On a sidenote, I confirmed that a pacifier under a mask is basically invisible, unless someone talks to you, but I didn't have the intestinal fortitude to employ that camouflage where it would be most useful, which for me would be on planes, where I have a hard time falling asleep. I did experiment with driving with one a couple of times on long journeys, at night, as a distraction, almost like chewing gum. However, the fact that I only really use them while sleeping conspired against me, and I realized I was in danger of falling asleep.

I almost made the mistake that has occasionally been the bane of my existence, from a laundry perspective; my daughter has, on a couple of occasions, left a pull-up entangled with other clothing that she threw into her laundry basket, and if someone just jams it into the machine, without conducting a pre-inspection, then in addition to chapsticks, coins and phone charger cables, the wash can end up polluted with SAP beads. She hasn't done that in a while now, but somehow, this week, probably because of beer, I threw a balled-up Tena that I had worn on a short shift, into the laundry with my clothes. I don't think it would have been entangled in the clothing, because I don't do that thing that my kids do, where they just drop everything to the floor and step out of it. That works with pull-ups, but not so well with diapers. I think I actually threw the diaper into the laundry bin, and then deposited other clothing on top of it. Luckily, it was me that was loading the machine, and I noted the football-like mass amidst the laundry, and rifled in to see what it was. So now there is a Tena in my laundry room trash can that I will have to remember to relocate when I empty my diaper can, which I'll do later today.

I spent the day yesterday with my sister, which was interesting. I get along with her a lot better now than I did when I was a kid, and I generally enjoy hanging around with her, but she does elicit in me an uncommon (these days) level of self-consciousness, with respect to being in diapers. I have not "come out" to her, or anyone else I am related to, outside of my immediate family, about wearing baby's underpants. It's not that I don't think she'd be capable of being understanding or sympathetic, if I had to some day show her that card, but, she was there when I wore diapers as a kid, and she was there, specifically, when my stepdad found my stash of homemade diapers a couple of years after I had outgrown needing to wear them, and he yelled at me in front of the family while waving one around. SO, I don't know exactly what her, or my brother's thoughts would be, were they to find out I'm back in diapers, 30+ years later. Would they assume that it was a resurgence of a "legitimate" need to wear them, some physiological deficit reasserting itself in adulthood, or, would they recall "the incident", and therefore assume that I was wearing them because I liked to, and not because I needed to? And then, what would they make of that? Would they assume it was a psychological hangover from spending many impressionable years hurtling past key developmental milestones, while unable to surmount that one, pivotal early milestone that most people get past by the time they are three or four, thus sentencing me to being relegated back to infancy, at least in the underpants department, every night at some point after dinner? "The training wheels just came off my bike - big day! But I still have a carton of toddler diapers on the floor in the back of my closet..." Or, would they think it was the byproduct of a kink, the equivalent of announcing that I now intend to wear a leather gimp mask to family events, and that I expect my choices to be respected? I don't want to find out. So, I went with the full security protocol - silent Active Air diaper, onesie, oversized pants, long sweatshirt. We spent part of the time at a public venue, an arena, watching one of her sons play hockey, and I decided to take advantage of the large, well-lit and anonymizing public washrooms to change my diaper. While I had a silent diaper on, the I had to replace it was not silent - it was a Rearz Lil' Monster. However, we were past the point of the day where we'd been hanging around in her church-quiet barn, so I didn't let thoughts of being accompanied by crinkling noises deter me. However, the arena had enacted a concept I've encountered a couple of times before, but never really had to avail myself of - they had one, very large, all-gender bathroom on each floor. This doesn't bother me in the least, except that I did not anticipate the possibility that my sister would, because the universe has a sense of humour, enter the same bathroom I was in, shortly after I did. SO, there I was, in the stall, making a bit of a plasticky racket, not really worried about anyone, to reuse the same analogy I leaned on a couple of posts ago, putting two and two together, or, caring what they were hearing from some random occupant of a bathroom stall in a large public venue. At least I threw the wet football of the retired Active Air into my backpack diaper bag, before exiting the stall - had it been just a men's room, I might have chanced carrying it over to the trash bin, because guys really don't spend much time paying attention to what other guys do in the bathroom; most of us adhere to a well-rehearsed policy of keeping our eyes on our own work. But, since there was a chance I would run into say, a lady with a gaggle of kids, over by the sinks, I chose to be careful. I exited the stall, did a quick scan of the room, thought it empty, strolled over to the big trash can over by the paper towel dispensers, unzipped my bag, dumped my diaper into the dark depths of that can with a thud, turned around to wash my hands... to encounter my sister, who had emerged from a stall a couple over from where I'd been briefly manipulating a big plastic diaper, that I was now wearing. She had clearly seen me throw something into the trash can, as well, although she wouldn't have seen what it was, from behind me. I guess she must have caught the surprise on my face, or the burst of colour in my cheeks, because she said, "This is weird, eh? But I guess it's the future...." "Uh, yeah, takes some getting used to, but I guess it makes sense," I mumbled, while zipping my bag shut, and then going over to the sink to wash my hands, my heart pounding detectably in my ears... She washed her hands, and then she tossed the paper towel she used into the trash can with my diaper, although I don't think she really looked inside of it. In other "news", I had an inverted diaper dream last night; I dreamt that I was peeing in my diaper, when I felt a leak from one of the sides, so, I believe I then got up and used the bathroom - I had some scotch on board, so what exactly happened is not completely clear. However, when I woke up this morning, I expected that my diaper, and possibly my sheets, were going to be a bit damp, but they were not, and I only slightly needed to go pee. Ergo, I think that what happened was that I made up the part about peeing, while I was dreaming about doing it, in response to signals from the #1 department that an initiative was immanent. I then bolted to the bathroom in a daze, thinking that I was already peeing, and that my diaper had malfunctioned, but, in fact, that did not happen. I suspect this might be related to drinking coffee late in the day, something I usually avoid. Maybe I wasn't sleeping as deeply as I usually do, hence the burst of activity.

I loved that. Thank you.

I assume no XL yet? That it will be in the offing eventually?

Question: would you buy pants that say their size, in prominent lettering, on the front? I get that it probably makes things easier for caregivers, in clinical settings, not to have to unfold a soiled nappy, and size-compare it to the options available for replacement, but I would point out that 95% if the nappies I wear would never be found in a clinical setting, because they would give corporate purchasers hives. No, or only very, very high-end care settings, are putting the residents in BeDry EliteCare's or Active Airs. And those high-end settings probably also offer things like closets or drawers. Or the size could be noted just inside of the waistband. Why do I have to walk around advertising "XL" in prominent script? This is particularly accusatory in the Rearz product line, where they shrank their L offerings, so that now, I fit best in their XL sizes, generally. Meanwhile, I wear a size L or R (regular) in everything else, and medium MegaMax will still fit me. I realize that most people view diapers as underwear, and that if they had your credit rating printed on them, it shouldn't matter, but I wear them as pajamas, too. I don't think that boxer shorts, or, particularly, panties, prominently emblazoned with their size, would be bestsellers. Just sayin'. In other news, I was once again a victim of "diaper insensitivity", this time as a bystander caught in the crossfire of a spat between my wife and my younger daughter. My wife was talking about growing up and taking responsibility, and drawing a confusing, and I would say diaphanous link between keeping her room clean, online etiquette, and her ability to one day operate a motor vehicle. She ended with, "Babies act like babies, and they have early bedtimes and they wear diapers, and older kids have more privileges when they act their ages. Do you want to act your age, and be treated as such, or do you want to act like a baby, and wear diapers? Sorry, (looks at me), but, you get my point. The diapers are metaphorical." The diaper I was wearing was, of course, not metaphorical.

Agreed - I was wondering how you were doing! You have been on all of our minds. It sounds like you are in good hands, both at the hospital, and, with respect to your family here. Very nerve-wracking, but it looks like they are approaching this with the appropriate seriousness. There are better days ahead!

Ha - I just finished posting the above, when another post-able occurrence, er, occurred. I left my office to return dishes to the kitchen - I'd eaten dinner at my desk, as seems to be the style right now, and my wife decided that she wanted to give me a detailed explanation of what a technician told her about the brakes on her car. Except that, while she is very smart, and knows a hell of a lot more about a lot of things, than I do, automotive things are not among them. She showed me a picture of her back rotors, taken through the wheels, and I knew immediately that she needed rotors, pads, and possibly calipers, although we might be able to skip the last part. But she was excited and wanted to tell me what the kid at the local Lube Express had excitedly relayed to her, buoyed by the prospect of landing a four-figure sale in a land of windshield wipers, light bulbs and engine flushes. However, I really, really had to go to the bathroom, and not for the call that I answer in my diaper. It was coming from line #2. I had habanero wings last night, and while I thought the storm had passed this morning, there were still some clouds scudding about, and one was cumulonimbus. I didn't need the explanation of what was going on with the brakes - I have installed brakes before - but I tried to be patient. Evidently, my face gave me away at some point, and she said, "Go on, then, I can tell you have somewhere else to be!" I said, very truthfully, "Well, I have to go to the bathroom. Give me a few minutes, and then you can tell me the rest..." ("Of this riveting story," I did not say...) "Oh, so now you don't want to use your fancy Pampers? When I'm telling you about my day...?" (Evidently she remembered my Mermaids Tale from this morning...) At that, my daughter guffawed. "No, I need to rather urgently give back the hot wings I had last night, if you must know, and I'm not doing that while standing in the kitchen, talking to you." "Well, good that you have standards." Indeed.

I haven't posted for a bit, because I've been so, so busy. I guess it's good that in a time when people are perhaps fearing for their jobs (North of the Canada-US border, anyway), I'm so Goddamn busy. May it ever be thus, and I wish the same for all of you. Although it does cut into my diaper blogging time. Some random notes from the past few days: I had a dream that someone from the FBI was wrestling with me. I knew this, because they said they were from the FBI. In the dream, I was wearing a diaper, but I also had clothes on. I was thinking, "This person is a cop, I should stop resisting, and then they'll realize they made a mistake... also, it would really suck to get arrested wearing an ABDL diaper." But then, the alleged FBI agent started choking me, so I had to fight back. So then I managed to get behind the assailant, and was thinking, I'm going to have to choke them, but... even in self-defense, do I want to start choking a cop? Weird dream - I've never had an altercation of any kind, with any law enforcement officer, let alone a US Federal agent. I must be reading too much news right now. I brilliantly decided to test out the failure mode that had beset me on my trip overseas last month, by putting on one of those awful "Tena For Men" pull-ups, sitting down on a bar stool, and then peeing in it lightly, while drinking a beer, this time in my own home. It immediately did the same thing they did to me at the bar in the terminal at Pearson. SO, totally not my fault. Peeing once, in allegedly-absorbent and fluid-resistant underwear, is not user error. I don't know what men these are for - those who sweat too much, down there? Men sitting on the toilet already? Zero stars, Tena. I'm wearing a Mermaid Tales, one of the discontinued Rearz designs. The print on it is fine, but that was never really the selling point. I mainly like the way they function. I suppose the BeDry Night can hold the same position in my inventory, but I feel like these deserved to be spared. Cuteness aside, they cost a bit less than the BDN, although maybe that was the problem that doomed them in the first place. Are InControl customers willing to pay more to look like medical patients, than Rearz customers are willing to pay, to look like toddlers? I had thought perhaps, but then I considered that the reason they gave for euthanizing their Lil' Monsters line, is that they weren't up to the capacity their clients expected... meaning the ABDL crowd, presumably, are as picky about capabilities as the medically-necessary crowd. Maybe more so - I would bet that they skew younger and more active than the here-against-my-will crowd, some of whom are perpetually seated, and/or horizontal. I suppose someone out there might be wrapping grandma in a Princess Pink, but that isn't where most of them are going.

I would say that I have made my own diapers, and conducted some modifications of them, over the years, although currently I generally don't. I use too many of them (2-3 per day) to have time to craft them and wash them, currently, so I tend to mostly go with disposables, with commercially made cloth diapers & plastic pants thrown in here and there. Before I started buying ABDL diapers regularly, I used to take lower-end medical diapers, and try to boost their performance. I'd take a Depends with tabs - the plastic ones - and then put packing tape across the front to create a landing zone, so the tabs could be opened and closed more than once, and I'd put a size 6 or 7 baby diaper in them as a stuffer, perforating the cover lightly. When I was a kid, I would extend the tabs on XL toddler diapers, using tape, once I outgrew being able to fit into them, and I made homemade cloth diapers using white pillow cases, which I would stuff with folded towels. I had outgrown my plastic pants by this point, so I used to cut the corners out of a large white shopping bag, and then carefully pull it up my legs, turning it into plastic pants. Bags were made of much heavier material back then! The bane of my existence was bags with printed logos on them - I would turn them inside-out so that I didn't have to look at "Dominion" or "Knob Hill Farms" on the front of my diaper, but sometimes the ink would transfer to my homemade cloth diaper. When my mom came home with white shopping bags with no logo on them, I immediately hoarded them.

We tracked him down - he was supposed to fly out Thursday but ended up flying out yesterday. He spent two days at the airport because of flight cancellations, and he said that cellular and wifi was in and out even there. He's due to land here in a couple of hours. He did not pick a good week for his first trip to the Gold Coast!

https://littlekeepersleeper.com/ is one of them - they mostly show kids wearing the items, but they go up to 265 lbs on the sizing charts, so they are available for adults. Mainly aimed at the special needs market, to prevent undressing or diaper tampering. Those hoodies et al are cool, though. I do like the idea of wearing a onesie that is fastened from the back, and that can't be opened without help, however I don't think my wife would want to play those games, although you never now - she does like being in charge, just not of my diapers. She did buy me a onesie, but it's a front zip one.

InControl BeDry, and it is being pretty dry, thus far, but I just put it on.

Diapered Sundays are the best Sundays!

That's interesting - I generally find cloth diapers to be pretty bulletproof. One thing they sometimes do not contend as well with is a sudden flood - a cloth diaper's notable capacity stems from the way they eventually evenly distribute their workload, becoming nearly as wet on your sides as they are at ground zero. So a deluge can run through the diaper and cause ponding in your plastic pants that, if it doesn't get a chance to be wicked up again by the diaper, can cause catastrophic leakage, if you shift positions, stand up, or compress the puddle up against a leg elastic suddenly. I like cloth diapers but find them a lot of work, and too bulky to wear anywhere but around the house, so I don't use them as much as I probably should, from a fiscal perspective. I've said this before elsewhere, but I'm also weirdly self-conscious about sitting next to my wife in just a cloth diaper and plastic pants, whereas I wear disposables in front of her pretty much everyday.

You wonder, when people encounter two and two and two often enough, will they eventually come up with six? The case in point today is related to my daughter's friends, who were due over at our house at an inexact time. I was doing my usual Saturday cleaning routine, which, somewhat ironically, involves the toilets being scrubbed by the person who uses them the least, arguably. I didn't use them at all there, for a stretch. Well, that's not strictly true - they were employed during cleanup operations. I shall say no more about that. Where was I? Yes, so I was cleaning the bathrooms, wearing my usual "disposable attire" of an old t-shirt and a diaper, in this case a Rearz Active Air that I had slept in, and that was about due for the bin. A notation on that: having consumed some excellent Belgian beers last night, I drifted seamlessly into an alcohol-induced coma, only to wake up feeling a trickle at my hip - Egad! I'd started peeing while I was on my side, but was instantly ejected from my dreams, despite the prodigious load of monk-crafted anesthetic in my blood. I rolled straight onto my back, and finished the transfer, before feeling around to see if I had done any damage. There was the slightest spot on the sheet, so I dragged an undershirt out of a drawer next to my bed, and slept with it under me, on the spot, and by morning, it was indetectable. So, it was good to prove out that I still have my reflexes about me, most of the time; apparently, my weeing over and through my diaper at that cottage last summer was an anomaly. This bolsters my suspicion that when I "wet the bed" (wet my nappy), and don't remember doing it, I am still drifting slightly up the consciousness column, towards the surface - there is some reptilian awareness at play, even though I often have no memory of these events, now. But back to that alluring mental picture I was painting, of a pasty, pudgy middle-aged man, scrubbing toilets in a soggy diaper; my wife suggested I pull some pants on, because my daughter's friends were due at some point, so I did that. After blessing the porcelain thrones, I had a thought: I needed to empty my diaper can, and it would be better to do that before the company came. So, rather than vacuuming next, I took a white kitchen bag that I already had with me, to empty the bathroom rubbish bins, and I lobbed about 10 adult nappies, in a riot of colours, into the bag, which then weighed about as much as an Australian Shepherd. I was carrying it towards the door, to head out to the garage, when in walked the anticipated friends, one of whom then went to give me a slightly awkward hug around the bag I was carrying. I swung it aside, gave her a half-hug, shook hands with the other friend, then said, "I'm just running the trash out to the garage, be right back!", before making a hasty exit, in an attempt to avoid small talk, or, running into their moms, whom I knew would be not far behind them, and wanting to talk to my wife, more than to me. I had a big purple Critter Caboose panda, and some blue and yellow Lil' Monsters characters staring at me through the translucent white plastic bag, and also concerns that it might have a funk about it that would elude me, accustomed, as I am, to nappy-related scents, in a way that presumably most outside of the medical professions, or childcare settings, are not. I managed to get to the garage and deposit the bag before having to chat with, or hug, anyone else, but I was still wearing a somewhat bulky diaper under track pants, and now the mothers of the girls who were being dropped off, were standing on the stairs, chatting with my wife. At least Active Airs don't make crunch-crinkle-crunch noises when you walk. I said my hellos, then said I was dressed down due to tidying up, and that I would go change, and rejoin the conversation. I walked past them, and upstairs, only to find my daughter, in the company of her friends, rummaging through a laundry basket that they had overturned on our guest bed, presumably looking for an article that someone wanted to borrow, or that needed to be returned. Right as I walked past the room, one of her friends, whom I have known for a decade, said, "Who's giant baby shirts are these, anyway?" I fairly leapt past the doorway, suddenly very self-conscious of my not-quite-invisible diaper, and, not wanting to be on display during the conversation around what were, clearly, a couple of my diaper shirts/onesies. My daughter said, nonchalantly, "They're my dad's...", and her friend said, "He wears baby shirts?", to which she replied, "He wears them when he does like work around the house, so he doesn't get, you know, plumber's crack." "Oh," she responded, "I've never heard of that." I don't know if she meant she's never heard of someone wearing "baby shirts" before, or if she meant she's never heard of "Plumber's crack", but I would have given my daughter $20, if I had it handy - it was a good answer. But then taken it back for, you know, overturning a laundry basket in front of her friends. It's a rare find in the "public" laundry stream, but there could have been plastic pants in there, or even a cloth diaper. Murphy's Law sometimes works that way. But now I wonder... I brushed past them at the door with a translucent Santa sack full of diapers, while wearing a diaper under slightly snug pants, and then, moments later, they were presented with a coupe of diaper shirts randomly enmeshed with the household laundry, that they were told were mine. Two... plus two... plus two... did anyone come up with six...?

Crikey! That's some excavation! In a related story - and I'm not making this up - we haven't heard from my colleague who brought his daughter there for school; a lady we both work with was texting me today and asking if I'd heard anything from him, and the last message I got was from Tuesday. So if you encounter a tall bald guy with a Canadian accent, wandering around looking confused, let me know. He may be wearing an Edmonton Oilers hat, if he didn't lose it in the storm.

I'd put myself in that category, @Nckearney. I'm on the bigger side, I'm married, I have kids, I definitely have a "dad bod". My wife sorta accepts my diapers - she puts up with me wearing them (been 24/7 for 6 years), although she's not into it. And, I like sports - I probably watch more hockey than any other sport, because that is required by law here (Canada), but I also like baseball, NFL, and I don't mind watching golf.