24/7 startups, and unexpected pitfalls?

[oznl]

5 hours ago, Little Sherri said:

I can't say for sure that I didn't rouse from deeper sleep to roll over onto my back, deliberately, sometime before, but I have no recollection of that. So, I'm curious... when one unconsciously wets the bed, in addition to overriding the "hold" commands on the containment valves, is it common for a complete repositioning to be commenced, in the service of the wetting event? Does my subconscious "know" that it's better to by lying on my back when we do this? Or is that evidence that I was doing it consciously, and then fell back to sleep, and I just don't remember any of it? How long does it take to resume snoring, if I was awake, briefly?

Since going back into nappies I’ve been consistently finding myself waking up laying on my back.

Falling asleep almost inevitably occurs on my side and I would have described myself as a side sleeper.

There’s been the odd occasion where I’ve wet on my side (the field-of-damage in the nappy and frequent associated side leak tell the tale) but it seems that most substantive wettings occur on my back.

When I started, I would routinely roll onto my back to “do the deed” during the night.  It seems over time I’ve learned NOT to wake up fully, if at all, doing that which kind of gels with @WBxx's comment.

This continues with or without a diaper.  When I road-tested myself without a nappy earlier this year, I’d put on a loose waterproof pant (no nappy though) to protect the coverlet/doona/duvet above me.  The puddle-patterns on the sheets were incontrovertible: near-symmetrical outpourings at the legging for each buttock complemented by another, conjoining puddle at the small of my back where pee had run out the top rear waist band.  I’d 100% been on my back when I’d wet that bed.  It was almost cartoon-like in how accurate it was.  I think there's a photo of it on Fetlife.

Ps: I don’t think you need to be in a deep sleep phase to snore, just relaxed enough.  Also, laying on your back is the worst position for snoring as it maximises the compressive load on the airway.  This all learned from a sleep study years ago.

[Little Sherri]

I went to bed in an actual pin-on cloth diaper last night; it was kind of impulsive, as I have a busy day planned today and I didn't really need the extra work. I had trepidations about what my wife would think, as I always do when I wear cloth, even though I spent most of the previous evening in a Princess Pink, so really, if she's immune to that level of radiation, then a white cloth diaper under printed plastic pants shouldn't give her fits. But I needn't have worried about it - by the time I emerged from pinning it on, she was asleep, and when I got up this morning, she was still asleep, and, my diaper was fabulously wet and needed changing, as it was getting a spot "whiffy", as cloth diapers will. I'd thought about trying to get through the morning in it, but I have a busy day ahead, and leaks won't help. 

The diaper was very comfortable, and I recall wetting it once knowingly, in the, ahem, "wee hours", but it may have happened again, as it was quite well hydrated when I dropped it in the shower this morning. For the one event that I am sure occurred, I enjoyed the decadent peace of mind that only a dry cloth diaper can provide... I knew that it wasn't going to leak, regardless of my position. The whole episode reconfirmed for me that they are a lot of work, and now, I have to also mentally guard the washing machine, and make sure I get to it when the cycle is done, in case one of the kids decides to put something in there, and pulls the wet stuff out to (unlikely) put it in the dryer, or (likely), leave it in a heap. Although the nice thing about a white pre-fold in that respect is that it could be mistaken for a towel, whereas the Omutsu's... yeah, they're diapers from all angles. 

 

[Little Sherri]

I have for you, a tale of two Mermaid Tales, and, a stack-up of events worthy of an airline crash investigation. They say that it is rarely one mistake, or one failure, that causes an air disaster, but rather, a series of small errors or failures that amount to more than the sum of their parts when stacked together. 

The story begins with a bit of falling snow; it's been a snowy couple of weeks. Last week, our recycling pickup got delayed a day, because of the snow, but this week, they were not saying that anything had changed with the trash pickup. We were due for between 4 and 6 cm's of snow, which in these parts, in January, is not a lot. I'd just come in from dusting off the driveway, with a feeling that it might have been a futile effort, because lazy flakes continued to drift down, and the forecast called for another couple of cm's throughout the night. 

My wife decided to do me a favour, without telling me, and asked my younger daughter to please take the trash out, which consists of taking the two bins from the garage, and wheeling them up to the curb. I would probably have done that first thing the following morning. But I have often done it when I take the dog out for his last nightly constitutional, as well - it's generally immaterial when it happens, as long as the trash is all in cans, so that raccoons and other critters that might be about won't go tearing through the bags. 

It happened to be the case that I needed to clear the snow from around the barbecue, so, rather than taking the dog out the side door, where I would have seen where the trash cans had been placed, I took him out on the deck side of the house, so he could do his business while I attended to the snow. Once both of us had completed our jobs, we headed into the house. 

The next morning, my younger daughter overslept and missed her school bus, so she came into our room to notify us, and my wife jumped up to drive her to school. I went down to make coffee, and left my phone on a side table, so I didn't notice the text my wife had sent me, until she came back into the house, and said "Did you see my text?", at which point I retrieved my phone. The very detailed text said "Something happened to the garbage", so I looked at her, and requested additional information. I said I hadn't put it out yet. She told me our daughter had. Then she said "Just go look." So, I downed my coffee, summoned the dog, put on a jacket, and headed out. I was still in the Rearz Mermaid Tale I'd worn to bed, under a pair of pajama pants. They provided sufficient cover for walking the dog at the side of the house, but the outfit was not public-worthy, particularly over a swelling high-capacity diaper. 

When I started walking down the driveway, I right away noticed that, whereas there should have been two trash cans, rather than one; we get garbage pickup only every second week, and in a house with one, and sometimes two people wearing diapers (or pull-ups), we always generate two cans worth. I was going to pivot, and go check the garage, when I noticed that the lid for the second trash can was lying at the end of the driveway... but there was no evidence of the can itself. Yet. My walk became more purposeful as I headed up the driveway, ignoring the dog now... what was going on?

When I got closer, it dawned on me what had happened - something or someone had knocked our second garbage can into the ditch to the right of my driveway. And not just "knocked it", more like "hurled it"... the snow-free status of the road's shoulder told the tale. The snowplow had come by, using its wing blade to sweep the shoulder, and it had tackled our trash can at what looked like a healthy clip. The score was plow, one, trash can, zero... as in, I had zero second trash can, anymore. Coming back around to my air crash analogy, it looked like an aircraft full of trash had crash-landed in my ditch and exploded. And some of that trash consisted of gloriously-printed frozen diapers. 

I'm not sure if someone, driving by, would have know exactly what they were looking at. I think it depends on if they slowed down or not. Most of the diapers were still in garbage bags, tossed helter-skelter, but a couple of bags had been flung high into the air, and disgorged some of their contents, which included a Mermaid Tale diaper that was sitting on the edge of the road, a couple of white Megamax's, and one pink Megamax, scattered amidst the coffee pods and packaging that littered the snow. One Lil' Monster had completely unfurled and was lying in the valley of the ditch, taped closed on one side, open on the other, very obviously a "garment", whereas perhaps some of the other diapers revealed by the impact could have been confused for plastic bags, at least by the unobservant. 

I needed a garbage bag and some better boots, stat, but both of those could be had in the garage, allowing me to pick up the scattered remains of my trash can before any more neighbours drove or walked by, although the frigid temperatures suggested to me that not many had likely been out for a walk yet, praise Jesus. Running into the house and putting on oversized jeans would have added a few minutes to the proceedings, and I really wanted to get those diapers, particularly the one right by the road, and the open one, picked up, so I decided to go for it, in what I had on... pajama pants and a significant diaper, identical to the one lying by the road, as coincidence would have it. 

Because the Universe has a sense of humour, as expressed by Murphy's Law, I therefore found myself in the bottom of my ditch, picking frozen diapers from the snow, when one of my neighbours came down the road, returning from somewhere. He slowed down and leaned out of his pickup truck to ask me if I needed any help, in a very neighbourly fashion. I could hear the thrum of the diesel engine well before he got to where I was, and I started firing diapers into my bag, double-time, ignoring all the other trash until the disposable adult baby pants had been collected. I tossed the last one into the bag as he was pulling up... I'm pretty sure he didn't see anything? Unless, of course, he originally drove by at any point after the debacle occurred, when, for all I know, he had time to study the scene in detail. 

I stood there, painfully conscious of the big diaper and flimsy pajama pants I was in, keeping my backside resolutely turned away from the road, and said that I was fine, thanks for asking, just going to pick the rest of this up. That lead to a conversation about how the plow had ruined some of his grass last year, and how the garbage trucks kept changing what time they came, and what about that virus, eh? (We're in Canada - the "eh" thing is somewhat, but not completely, an unjustified stereotype). I was smiling and firing back short answers, but my eyes kept wondering to a white plastic trash bag that had not broken open, but which had a big, colourful diaper pressed up against the inside of its translucent skin... looked like a Rearz Lil' Splash to me. I hoped that it looked like a chip bag to him. 

At some point, my wife noticed that he was sitting there in the truck, talking to me, and she came walking up the driveway to say hi, causing me to to curse under my breath. There we were, three neighbours, talking about municipal services and such, as the wind tussled the torn plastic surrounding me, and my thin pants, while I, not for the first time,  questioned some of the choices I've made. Eventually, my neighbour took his foot of the brakes, and rolled up to his house, and my wife watched me get back to bagging the scattered trash, before saying "Have fun...", and heading indoors.

I guess I need a new trash can... I wonder if they make them in titanium? Oh, and I just discovered that my Mermaid Tale, which I'm still in, has leaked over the top at the front and soaked the bottom of my shirt. Yes, I'm still in those pajama pants, but now they're wet at the top. And my wife has a friend over, as evidenced by the car now in my driveway. They're in the kitchen... which I will have to walk past, in order to get inside. Maybe I'll work late tonight. 

 

[BabyJilly_S]

That sucks and yet is amusing all at the same time. I imagine your wife had a large smirk on her face as she strolled away.

I dread to think what would happen if someone knocked my bin over. They are only cleared every two weeks and all of my used diapers are individually bagged up at the bottom.

[oznl]

Quelle horreur!!

Whilst I’d be surprised to see a snow plow appear in my street any time soon, we live at the end of a cul-de-sac and various garbage truck maneuverings have at one time or another, inflicted blunt force trauma on our wheelie bins.

A part of the ongoing low-level trash-day anxiety that is a part of my world sees me habitually check the street after the garbage truck has been (which is usually VERY early in the morning).

The added variables of gravity and a steep street incline raise interesting opportunities for bin-escapees.

[BabyJilly_S]

I  must admit to watching the bin collection every two weeks. Mainly to make sure my bin isn't missed, it would prove difficult as I half fill the thing with nappies and any missed week would mean I couldn't fit anything else in it . Would have to make a special trip to the municipal dump with a bag if that happened I guess...

 

[Little Sherri]

3 hours ago, oznl said:

A part of the ongoing low-level trash-day anxiety that is a part of my world sees me habitually check the street after the garbage truck has been (which is usually VERY early in the morning).

I do a post-pickup check as well; a number of people from our neighbourhood drive or walk past our house on the way up to the local school, so I have persistent concerns about bin escapees being left on the side of the road. I bag all my diapers, so this is less likely, but not impossible. I'm also religious about using the bins, but my wife has on occasion conscripted one of the kids to take the trash out (as happened this week), so I have found bags sitting where bins should be. A raccoon or fox or coyote or skunk, tunneling to the alluring scent of chicken-soaked plastic wrap, could easily disinter a nappy.

1 hour ago, BabyJilly_S said:

I  must admit to watching the bin collection every two weeks. Mainly to make sure my bin isn't missed, it would prove difficult as I half fill the thing with nappies and any missed week would mean I couldn't fit anything else in it . Would have to make a special trip to the municipal dump with a bag if that happened I guess...

I had to do a run to the dump with my truck just before the holidays, because an uncharacteristic weeknight on the turps had me fall comatose into bed without putting the bins out, and I didn't arise until after the truck had passed by. I always have two full bins at the end of two weeks, and sometimes another bag on top of that, so there was no way we were going to make it for two more weeks which would also have included the refuse from Christmas. In the summer, my garage would smell like a Diaper Genie with 4 weeks worth of cast-off diapers fermenting away. 

[Little Sherri]

On the cusp of things "reopening" again for the umptieth time, I went and had dinner with my parents. This is something I do fairly regularly, and rarely bring up here, because most of the time, such happenings are unremarkable. I for the most part suppress the urge to bring the conversation with my mom around to anything I might want to expound upon on this thread, because, let's face it, diapers are not that common of a topic, if you don't have toddlers underfoot, as much as I might sometimes try to wedge them into ongoing discussions with my long-suffering spouse. 

At the same time, nobody, including me, knows more about my childhood experiences than my mom does (my dad having passed away and my step-dad having come into the picture only at the tail end of my diaper tour-of-duty, which he subsequently bludgeoned). On rare occasions, generally by serendipity, and sometimes via careful journalistic probing, I have been able to glean tidbits that I have no recollections of. Other times, she reminds me of things that I had long forgotten, and then provides colour to memories that are disjointed and blurry to me. But, my mom doesn't know that I wear diapers these days, and I don't *think* she knows that I am "into them", although she undoubtedly knew I was when I was in my 'tween years. But I didn't even know what "this" was,  back then, so I assume she didn't, either. Maybe I'm not giving her enough credit, but I believe that her understanding of such things is pretty "vanilla", at least by the standards of this community. 

So when I brought dinner over to their place (pasta), and we started chatting, I didn't expect to end up with fodder to mull over here. But as it happens, my mom launched into a story about reconnecting with one of her sisters, whom she's had occasional Facebook contact with, but hasn't spoken to in a few years. Then, she asked me if I remembered when her sister, and her son (my cousin) came to stay with us, when I was about 8. 

It had been a long time since I thought about that visit, but most of you will understand that, as an 8-year-old nascent future DL or ABDL or whatever best describes "this", I was very intrigued by the prospect of my "baby cousin", as my sister took to calling him, coming to stay with us. He was about 2 1/2 or 3 years old, so, whereas I was in diapers part-time, he was living the diapered life completely. I didn't have any need to try and abscond with a diaper, because I had a box of my own in the closet, nearly identical but for the size, however I was still fascinated with being able to observe, first-hand, what it was like to just blissfully live in diapers, untainted by shame or embarrassment, as I sometimes wished I could, even then. 

It was fun to have him around for a few days, particularly for my brother, who went from always being the youngest, to being, in some sense, an older sibling for a period. What I was not prepared for was the effect it would have on me; it took me right back to how I'd felt when my little brother finished potty training a few years prior, whereas I was still contending with chronic bedwetting. 

We had a toddler running around the house again, and my brother, sister and I would assist my aunt in giving him baths, and getting him ready for bed, and reading him stories, etc. Much of the time, those activities took place in the early evening, which was right around the time I was generally getting dressed for bed, so I became painfully aware of the fact that, as we sat on the floor in one of our bedrooms in our PJ's, reading a story to a wiggling toddler, out of the four kids there, two of us were diapered, and two were not. 

I recall watching my aunt dress him on my bed, while I stood beside it, achingly self-conscious about the crinkling noises coming from my pajamas as I moved around, knowing that, as my aunt unfolded a diaper for him, she surly knew that I had one on, too. And so once again, I wrestled with shame, fascination, and guilt... part of me envied my cousin, and wanted to be laid down and diapered, and to be able to be completely unselfconscious about it. And part of me hated the idea of that, and was mortified to be dressed just like the baby, under my PJ's, at the advanced age of 8. What I was left with was a dissonance, an internal battlefront, with half of me hating the other half, and nobody to talk to about it - how could I find the words? And then my aunt, as though sensing my internal struggle, turned to me as she zipped his pajamas up, and said something along the lines of "Don't worry, your body is going to catch up with you soon." Which caused me to flush royally, and look at my feet, until she placed my cousin on the floor, took both of our hands, and lead us, crunch, crinkle, crunching over to my sister's room to read a story.

I read my sister's mind as we walked in like that, or at least I thought I did; I was entirely sure that she assumed we'd both just been diapered by my aunt, even though that was not the case. But of course, I couldn't say anything - doing so would have brought a spotlight to an area that I wanted to leave in shadows... at least somewhat because part of me wished it had been so. So I sat on the floor, feeling the bulk and the heat of my diaper, trying to sink into the carpet, while my cousin ran from person to person, undaunted, unconcerned. 

[Little Sherri]

You would think (or perhaps hope) that I would have run out of things to write about by now; how have I been journaling for almost three years on the topic of my preference for plastic underwear? Outside of this community, does anyone write this much about their undergarments? Are there boxer short, panty or bra appreciation sites? 

But, the topics keep presenting themselves. 

This week I was inspired by two television shows; the first was an episode of Mayday, the air crash investigation show, which I find fascinating. They talked about an Airbus that suffered a double engine failure mid-flight, which is an extremely rare occurrence on a modern commercial aircraft. They managed to land the plane safely, but not without some drama, because one of the engines that had initially failed, was restarted, but then they couldn't lower or increase the thrust from about the 75% point, which was excessive for landing, even with the other engine out. They eventually traced the cause back to.... SAP polymers used in a cartridge filter on a fueling truck, to dewater jet fuel. Apparently the fuel had become contaminated with salt water, rather than fresh, and the salt reacted with the SAP to form a precipitate that then escaped from the filter, and clogged up the control valves in both engines on the A330. So, diaper stuffing nearly caused a plane crash. Keep that in mind, those of you who wear diapers and work around aircraft. 

My second TV-inspired topic is a continuation of a theme that I've delved into before: the Universe's sense of humour, which has it continually tapping me on the shoulder at opportune (or inopportune) moments. Case in point: my wife and I were watching one of her shows, which I find boring, so I was only watching with half an eye, while reading the news on my phone, sitting in our bed, wearing a Rearz Select (their white plastic-backed single-tape vintage-Pamper-looking version of the Inspire), and a t-shirt. This is my preferred sleeping garb when my wife hasn't decided to throw the windows open and refrigerate our room down to -20 C, in service to her erratic body temperatures these days. Hot, cold, hot, cold. But I digress. 

In the show she was watching, a couple suddenly found out that they were adopting a baby, sooner than they'd expected, and they had to rush out and shop for the contents of a nursery. One of the characters was going over the list of what they needed.... "Crib, rocking chair, white noise generator, CHANGING TABLE, DIAPER Genie, DIAPER cream, DIAPER wipes, DIAPERS....". They ran through it several times as they raced about, trying to find the items. 

The emphasis in this recounting is mine, not theirs, but that's what it felt like to me, looking, as I did, like an overgrown toddler. At one point, I glanced over at my wife, and she met my eyes and gave me a smirk, telling me without saying anything, that the moment was not lost on her, and also perhaps suggesting, in that brief half-second expression she proffered, that she hadn't expected to still be stocking diapers and baby powder and diaper cream, and to have a diaper pale in her closet, at this stage in her life. But here we are. 

[BabyJilly_S]

I hope the universe does continue to have the odd poke, in the nicest possible way  

[Little Sherri]

1 hour ago, BabyJilly_S said:

I hope the universe does continue to have the odd poke, in the nicest possible way  

Ask and ye shall receive, apparently. Or, ask and I shall receive, although I didn't ask.

I went to visit my parents last night, and when I got home, I cleared the driveway off for the second time - we'd had both rain, and snow, and the temperature was falling, so I didn't want everything to turn to concrete overnight. When I was done, I went into the house and headed up for a shower, looking forward to peeling off my wet single-tape Rearz Select (I really like them, as an aside; they were sort of a novelty purchase, but they're quite comfortable). I pulled a Rearz Alpaca from my diaper drawer, and grabbed an older pair of pajama pants from the laundry, then headed into the washroom - I'm still not comfortable changing my diaper in front of my wife, and anyway I wanted to rinse off. 

After I was done - I couldn't get the water very hot because one of my daughters had taken a 40 minute shower - I put the Alpaca on, pulled on my pajama pants and a t-shirt, and headed out of the bathroom. Normally I'd just wear the diaper, but my younger daughter was still walking around upstairs, and there was a chance she'd come into our room for makeup remover or whatever. 

Our bedroom door was open, and my wife said "Close the door, would you?" I said sure, thinking that's what I'd usually do anyway - I'm not going to lounge around in a big printed (or any) diaper with the bedroom door open, when the kids are home. The next move would have been for me to take the pants off, but before I could do that, she said "Take off your pants."

This was new, and intriguing. She was sitting on the bed, knitting, and I didn't think that my brief appearance in a sagging Rearz Select had suddenly put a fire into her loins, but, who knows? Alas, uncontrollable desire was not behind her request. I figured, hey, the lady wants my pants off, let's give the people what they want, so I gamely stripped them off. She then asked me to hand her a bag that was in the corner of the room... this is the part where, if you were reading an ABDL fantasy, there'd be lavender ruffled plastic panties and a bonnet in the bag, or whatever... "If you're going to act like a baby then I'm going to treat you like one", that kind of thing. That is not the direction this went in, however. 

Inside the bag were pajama pants from Costco in two sizes and two colours; she handed me the first pair and asked me to put them on, which I did. They were a size large, which, were I not wearing a big diaper, would have been fine, and they still fit, but, the diaper was fairly obvious under them. I made a couple of mocking turns, and she said "Okay, now try these", and handed me the same pants in XL. I dropped the first pair and donned the second, which were a bit billowy and long on me, but, draped a little less conformingly to the diaper. I turned, she nodded, then said "Come here."

I obeyed, and when I got to where she was sitting, she tugged at the binding strings and the waistband, then said "Is this your biggest diaper?" I was taken aback, but answered in the affirmative - an Alpaca, which Rearz refers to as an overnight diaper, is among the bulkiest disposables in my inventory. An Omutsu under plastic pants would be bulkier, but I don't wear cloth very often. She directed me to turn around by rotating me with my elbow, and then she pulled open the back of my pants, which startled me a bit - it's been a LONG time since I've had a diaper check performed by someone else, but this was what I imagined one would be like. I could feel my face redden a little. What she was after, though, was the tag, which she deftly detached with sewing scissors. I could feel the back of her hand against my diaper. She let the waist of my pants snap shut, gave me a playful smack on the butt, and said "If you're going to walk around like THAT, I want you to at least have decent pajamas." 

So, I think I've discovered the root cause of the episode... she's tired of me wandering around in ratty, older pajama pants, so she wants to upgrade them, so as to better camouflage that her husband always has a diaper on. I still intend to spend the last couple of hours of the evening, and to sleep, in just a diaper, but at least now, if I have to dive out of bed in the middle of the night to interrupt the dog's search for something upholstered to throw up on, I can look good while I'm rushing him outside. 

I think this represents progress; she seems to have concluded that "this" is going to be an ongoing issue, so rather than trying to bend me away from my path, she's exerting her will upon the things she can control. Like my pants.  

[BabyJilly_S]

Sorry ! Although I didn't expect such quick service to be honest.

Now, about those lottery numbers ......

[Little Sherri]

It's been in interesting day, diaper-wise. I hadn't planned on writing anything but topics imposed themselves upon me, so here we are. I beg your forgiveness.

First of all, I had another experience that falls into the "deliciously disconcerting" category today. My wife and I were working in the garage, creating space so that I can make beer amidst the debris of an impending renovation. I was squatting down, reading the side of a box that was almost at ground level, and my onesie (diaper shirt type) was tugging a bit on one side, and I put my hands on it through the front of my pants, to give it a repositioning tug, when I felt... a very low-level vibration. I actually thought at first that it might be an interplay between the material of the onesie, and either my jeans, or the diaper itself, that can occur when certain fabrics drag along each other. I paused, and tried to really concentrate on what I was feeling, even giving the front of my diaper a gentle squeeze... and I realized that I was peeing. Once I moved things around, the feeling localized at the tip of my equipment. I hadn't been paying attention, I was in a minor dispute with my wife about repositioning heavy things for the umpteenth time, I hadn't thought about peeing for a period long enough that I couldn't remember when I last had... and now, squatting down, I was clearly peeing in my pants.

I stayed squatting, while my wife stood behind me, hopefully thinking that I was struggling to read a label, while in reality, I was marveling at the sensation of my bladder slowly emptying, with absolutely no feeling, other than wetness right at the sharp end of the spear, so to speak. I couldn't tell if it was declining, building, or had stopped, so eventually I stood up, and when I did, I'm pretty sure that it did stop. All of a sudden, my mood improved by about 50%, and I was very happy to shift more boxes. However, I don't think that it happened again. Interesting. 

Second, I had a dream last night that we went skiing somewhere (which is something we actually did a couple of weeks ago), and for some reason, I brought an enormous cooler with me, and somehow I ended up leaving it there by mistake and taking someone else's home. I then went into our house, which, in the dream, had a sunken kitchen that was carpeted, of all things, while unidentifiable friends of hours came into the house with me. They then went to change, because we were all going to go for a swim. Although we'd just been skiing, and my pool right now is basically frozen solid for the first foot or two. But that was the plan. 

I had ducked into the kitchen to get changed, and had just dropped my pants and was standing there in a diaper, talking to my wife, when the wife of the couple that had come skiing with us walked past the windows to the kitchen, and turned and looked down at us and waived hello - the sunken kitchen was a bit below grade level but had tall windows, so she was standing on my pool deck, looking down on us from maybe three feet up. I reflexively waved back, but then realized that I was standing there in a diaper and a shirt, and she had to have seen it. I had a moment of anxiety, but then I had another thought: f*ck it. Sooner or later, people were going to have to know that I wear diapers. I decided to just go out onto the pool deck in what I was wearing. I didn't actually do it - I woke up right after that - but I recalled forming the intent to do so. 

So, I'm sitting in my office now in a very wet MegaMax (a white one), experiencing a bit of a blast from the past, a nostalgic feeling, if you will. It stems from my being stuck in here, in a very wet diaper, which I can't go into the house and change, because my wife, my daughter and her friend are watching a movie in my bedroom, my other daughter having commandeered the family room. The "entertaining room" is essentially part of my office, so I suppose I could offer to switch places with them, but they look comfortable. 

Why is this of relevance here? Because my diaper drawer is in my bedroom, so I can't go extricate a new diaper to change into, and anyway, I want to shower first. I do have a backup diaper in my office, but it's a breathable gym diaper, and I'm drinking a triple IPA and want to go to bed in a big plastic diaper, so I don't want a stop-over in something doomed to an early grave. 

Why is this making me feel nostalgic? Because it reminds me of being locked in my bedroom as a kid, strangely. Background: my brother used to either sleepwalk, or maybe just wander, at night - they were never sure which. But a couple of times when he was 3, 4, 5, they found him either already outside of the apartment we lived in, or, working diligently to get out, well after they'd put him to bed. Exasperated, they decided to put a little hook and loop lock high on the bedroom door... and my brother and I shared a bedroom. I recall protesting that it wasn't fair that I had to be locked in my bedroom overnight, because my brother liked to wander, but he and I shared a room, and my parents explained that it was nothing against me, and not a punishment, it was necessary for safety, and there would be no debating it. So, my brother would be put to bed, and usually at the same time, I'd get my diaper and pajamas on, and then I would be allowed to watch another half hour or hour of TV with my sister, after which I would be walked over to the bedroom, they'd unlock it, I'd be tucked into bed, and then they'd lock us in.

From then, until they woke up in the morning and slipped the little hook out of the loop, my brother and I were essentially prisoners in that room, though it was a comfortable room, well appointed with toys. My brother seemed to be able to stay dry from the moment he went to bed, until my parents set us free in the morning, but, as anyone reading this knows by now, I, of course, wet the bed prolifically. Or rather, I wet my diaper (and sometimes the bed). So, I recall waking up the odd time in the wee hours of the morning, wearing a soaked diaper, or possibly also lying in damp sheets (diapers back then were far from perfect, and I was oversized for the toddler diapers my parents were buying). But that was the situation, and it was intractable - I had to close my eyes and try to forget about it. Unless something was on fire, there was no option to get up and request a diaper change, or change the sheets. So then, as now, I had to while away the hours, if I couldn't summon unconsciousness, in my clammy diaper. At least I have you folks to chat with right now. Her friend should be going home soon - it's almost 11:00. At which point I will take a shower and get into a new diaper. I'm impressed with this MegaMax, in the meantime. 

Eventually, we moved to a house, at which point, each of us got our own rooms... but here's the thing: they installed that little hook and loop latch on both of our bedroom doors in the new house, which somewhat put the lie to their explanation that my brother was apt to wander. I was not apt to wander, but I still wasn't free to get up in the middle of the night and relieve myself - once the door was closed, anything that needed to happen, happened in my diaper. Unless they were trying to potty train me again, when they'd wake me up at midnight and take me to the bathroom, before locking me back in... I can't quite figure out why, in the midst of being frustrated with having a bedwetting child, they never drew a line between the door latch and the wetting. Maybe it was because it seemed to make no difference to my brother, who could stay as dry as the Sahara overnight. As far as I recall, my sister's door never had the latch on it. She was older, so maybe it was never considered necessary. That's one to ask my mom, though, the next time I see her - why did the latch go on my bedroom door, even after I stopped sharing a room with my younger brother? 

[oznl]

2 hours ago, Little Sherri said:

That's one to ask my mom, though, the next time I see her - why did the latch go on my bedroom door, even after I stopped sharing a room with my younger brother? 

Uh, yeah...  That's just a little bit weird in my book (and I came from a family that I only now understand was pretty weird).  We were locked out and/or forbidden to go to some rooms of the house but we were never locked in our rooms.  On the contrary, I can recall a sibling being locked OUT of the house by way of punishment.

I'd be fascinated to hear what the supporting logic for that particular measure was...  Especially in a pre-smoke-detector age, I would have thought it would be pretty dangerous too.

[Little Sherri]

On 2/6/2022 at 1:40 AM, oznl said:

I'd be fascinated to hear what the supporting logic for that particular measure was...  Especially in a pre-smoke-detector age, I would have thought it would be pretty dangerous too.

I had exactly this thought, @oznl. When we moved into our current house, I installed smoke detectors in every bedroom, because it only had one on each floor, which was the code minimum until a few years ago. Someone involved in establishing fire regulations eventually had the epiphany that a fire in a closed bedroom would likely have asphyxiated that room's occupants, by the time a smoke detector down the hall became excited about it. 

Although the eventual demise of the locking mechanism on my bedroom door occurred when my sister jokingly locked me in there, and I gave the door a hard enough tug to rip the loop out. Because it was latched right at the top, I pulled the bottom open far enough to get both hands on it, and by then I probably weighed 75 lbs. My parents never repaired it. I am not sure what happened to my brother's. So, were the place on fire, perhaps I could have overcome that latch. Though I accomplished that when I was maybe 9 or 10, whereas at 5 or 6, I probably couldn't have summoned the strength. 

On 2/6/2022 at 1:40 AM, oznl said:

On the contrary, I can recall a sibling being locked OUT of the house by way of punishment.

We were, well, not exactly locked out, but more "turned out" like cats. It was a very different time, and actually, in terms of statistics, a less safe one than now by far, but my parents couldn't summon the relevant indicators from the ether at will, so as a result, my brother, sister and I roamed the neighbourhood from dawn until dusk, playing on railway tracks, climbing trees taller than houses, and riding our bikes to large shopping malls. One time, I bought a hamster with my allowance money... I had $5 with me, and the hamsters were $9, so the guy at the pet store sold me an old one. I rode home on my bike with it in a box. We didn't have hamster supplies. My dad made an enclosure for it out of an old cooler with the lid taken off. The bewildered Syrian rodent lived on the balcony until it escaped a few weeks later, and, presumably, plummeted to its death. Hamsters, being creatures of the desert floor, are famously unperturbed by heights. Look it up. 

I'm in a "Barry" right now - Oz's contraction for "Rearz InControl Elite Hybrid", a generous name for a generous nappy. I went with it because I returned home from a dusty job at a buddy's place - removing grout from a tile floor. I needed a shower and a new diaper, but it was only 7 PM, so I wanted a product that would be up to the task of carrying my overnight and well into the next day (today). Barry is holding up his end of the bargain, so far. The tabs have a merciless hold on the landing zone. 

I had an interesting conversation with the neighbour this weekend; he had a spot of bad luck, in the form of a tree being felled by high winds and ice, and damaging a fence on his property. He's considering upgrading the fence while conducting the repair, and asked about our thoughts on that, as part of the fence (an undamaged portion) traverses our property line.

I've been pondering that fence since we moved in, because while it's been "grandfathered", it is not up to current code for a yard with a pool, and also, while our current dog is elderly and unadventurous, if we ever find ourselves with a younger dog, he or she would likely hop the existing barrier for sport. Replacing all sides of that fence with something taller and wooden would be expensive (timber prices have skyrocketed), but, going down the property line with a taller fence, half paid for by my neighbour, isn't a bad compromise, will improve dog and child security, and... would provide some notable privacy. That's why I'm brining it up here.

From my pool deck, sightlines to the neighbour's house are obscured by trees, but the fence itself is wire, and is only chest-high. We like them and I think they like us, and in any case there's at least 125 feet between our houses, so for the most part, privacy is not a real concern. But, I've expressed before that one dream I have is being able to wear a nappy while working in the yard - IE, only a nappy (and a shirt). So far, I have only been able to accomplish that at night, and I've only done it once, for a brief period of time, late last summer. So, if the far side of the pool had a proper privacy fence... hmmm. This wouldn't portend me sunbathing in a swim diaper at high noon on a Saturday in July - I still have kids - but, it would open up the possibility that I could putter around out there, or take the dog out, without worrying about what I had on, when the kids were out, or retired for the night. I don't know why that's so compelling for me - for a good stretch of the early summer, it would require insect repellant - but, having that option, even if I don't exercise it much, has always been attractive. This might be a road to that destination.

Thus will I coin the term "toddler's tan".... if a farmer's tan describes a demarcation line between amber and fish-belly white, at the upper arms and neckline, in the outline of a t-shirt, a toddler's tan refers to someone marked with the negative outline of a diaper. 

 

[Little Sherri]

Nothing very exciting has happened since my last post. I have broken my pledge not to stock any more diapers, because I saw a sale price on some Molicare ones I haven't tried before. I'm still casting about for good diaper options for my upcoming on-again, off-again golf trip. I'm going to be sharing a room with a buddy, because a friend of ours who works for a hotel chain booked the rooms using his discount. So, I am reluctantly planning to bring cloth-backed diapers with me, to avoid a cacophony of crinkling from the bathroom every time I change my diaper. I have the Rearz Active Air diapers in that category, and they are really good, but I want another, slimmer option with me as well, in case I discover some fatal flaw in the Airs that has eluded me so far. I'd love to just wear MegaMax's or Rearz Elite's, but they'd be too loud for fiddling with, in close quarters. 

I've had another couple of slightly humorous exchanges with my spouse. First of all, she was at a drug store, and she called me to see if I needed anything picked up, and I said I thought I was okay, and she ran through a list of things she thought I might need, but was perhaps forgetting... deodorant? I'm good. Toothpaste? Got lots. Mouthwash? Couple of full bottles in the closet. Soap? The Costco case we bought will be supplying our grandchildren. Then she said "What about baby powder? I haven't bought you that since last summer." Well, she had bought me three large bottles of it, back when she heard that J & J were ceasing production of their talc-based products, and I knew that I still had one of them left, but, the idea of her buying me baby powder was too titillating to ignore, so I said "Actually, yes, I do need baby powder." 

She came home from the store an hour later and, while un-bagging her purchases, she handed me a large bottle of "Little Ones" lavender-scented baby powder. It has a cute picture of a tot in a diaper on the label. I took this to be another indication that my stock of diaper supplies are no longer a novelty, but rather, an accepted fact of life, and she is including them in her planning, which suggests that she's also including ME in her planning. 

Later that same evening, we were sitting in our bedroom, streaming a show, and when it ended, we both got up out of bed at the same time; it was my intention to head into the washroom to brush my teeth, but she needed to use it as well, apparently, so she hopped off of her side of the bed and said "Hang on there, the man in the diaper does not get bathroom priority." So I stepped aside, in my Rearz Lil' Monster, and let her go first. 

The Rearz Elite Hybrid (it runs on both electricity and gas) that I wore yesterday performed admirably, which was not surprising. I'd put it on the night prior at about 10 PM, and barely engaged it on the overnight shift, but with the coming of the morning coffee, its real work began. Containment had not breached, but seemed threatened, by dinner time the next day, but then I got into a long-winded phone conversation with an uncle, and washed the dishes at the same time, because I can't stand talking on the phone for any length of time, if my hands aren't occupied somehow. I didn't want to curtail the conversation to go change my diaper, and anyway I had the house to myself, so I continued to dribble into it until 8 PM... 22 hours. The tabs were still holding admirably, but I started to feel dampness around the leg gathers, which suggested that if I'd had pants on, they might have wicked out some moisture, so once the call was over, I changed my diaper.

Normally, I'd still be in that same diaper now, and possibly just on the cuff of changing, but for the asparagus my wife made with dinner. Ahh, asparagus, the enemy of the diapered. I had wet a little bit overnight, and again while reading the paper with my coffee in the morning. After coffee, I retire to the loo to answer #2 of nature's callings, and normally I put my diaper aside and put it back on, if it has some life left in it, but this time, it smelled like, well, asparagus pee. Yuck. 

Have any of you eliminated asparagus from your diets? We don't eat a lot of it, but, it's something I am going to try and avoid moving forward, as much as I don't mind how it tastes. 

[PuraVidaDip]

4 hours ago, Little Sherri said:

Have any of you eliminated asparagus from your diets? We don't eat a lot of it, but, it's something I am going to try and avoid moving forward, as much as I don't mind how it tastes. 

Yes absolutely! I actually like it but after going 24/7, I knew I couldn't tolerate the smell YUCK! I got it with a dish the other night because I didnt know it would be served and I left it on the plate.

[Little Sherri]

I got my hands on samples of Molicare Premium Elastic Briefs in a range of sizes this week, ironically thanks to my wife, who somehow stumbled across an offer at a home healthcare company for free samples. This, from a woman who has requested that I cut down on the number of products I keep in stock.

I've seen lots of people here rave about various Molicare products, but clearly, I've been test-driving the wrong ones, because most of the ones I have tried have been okay, not great, maybe at a mid point between a store-bought diaper like a Tena, and a premium product from Rearz or NorthShore. 

I got them in three sizes; the small is of no use to me but I'll keep them in stock as backup for the aging Goodnites we have in inventory for my daughters and a couple of their friends. The large is almost "bariatric" in size; I could put the Velcro tabs on top of each other at the front, and they would still be loose. The medium's are probably the Goldilocks size for me, and I was hoping that they might fit and feel almost like size 10 Pampers, if those existed - the construction is very similar, with a cloth cover, and a single Velcro tab on each side, minus the graphics. Alas, while the materials are spot-on, the architecture is not... the core of these diapers are almost the same size, front and back, and there is very little of an "hourglass" cut to them, so the tabs are carried around to the front on very stretchy, very long rectangular wings that almost make the diaper feel like a Euro-thong - it's like the core of a pull-up, suspended by an elasticized belt, at least on me. Having that much of my derrière hanging in the wind is less than confidence inspiring. I shall be testing the limits of these carefully, like they were an experimental aircraft design. We'll see how they perform, but right now I'm not picturing them supplanting anything in my core go-to products. 

Maybe if I don't like them, I could donate them to a food bank; I read about an initiative to get more incontinence products into the hands of the homeless. Apparently there is a sympathy gap for adults who require diapers; it's easy to get people to donate boxes of Pampers for babies, because people feel good about helping babies, but impoverished old men living under bridges do not elicit the same nurturing response.

The otherwise well-written article irritated me slightly, because it shifted midway through from referencing "incontinence products", and started using the term "adult diapers", which the writer then employed several times. Not that it's offensive, but I've always wondered... why the distinction? Are they not just "diapers"? You could, as they did, say that they're specifically highlighting the plight of adults who wear diapers, but after that, when they talked about the challenges and indignity of not having access to them, nor easy access to laundry equipment, the writer used the term again and again... adult diapers this, adult diapers that. For the most part, we don't say "children's diapers", right? (Although I did have an aunt who was fond of the term "baby diapers".) Do we need to delineate "youth diapers" from "toddler diapers" from "baby diapers"? No. Just as we don't say "adult mittens".  

[oznl]

17 minutes ago, Little Sherri said:

I got my hands on samples of Molicare Premium Elastic Briefs in a range of sizes this week, ironically thanks to my wife, who somehow stumbled across an offer at a home healthcare company for free samples. This, from a woman who has requested that I cut down on the number of products I keep in stock.

I've seen lots of people here rave about various Molicare products, but clearly, I've been test-driving the wrong ones, because most of the ones I have tried have been okay, not great, maybe at a mid point between a store-bought diaper like a Tena, and a premium product from Rearz or NorthShore. 

I got them in three sizes; the small is of no use to me but I'll keep them in stock as backup for the aging Goodnites we have in inventory for my daughters and a couple of their friends. The large is almost "bariatric" in size; I could put the Velcro tabs on top of each other at the front, and they would still be loose. The medium's are probably the Goldilocks size for me, and I was hoping that they might fit and feel almost like size 10 Pampers, if those existed - the construction is very similar, with a cloth cover, and a single Velcro tab on each side, minus the graphics. Alas, while the materials are spot-on, the architecture is not... the core of these diapers are almost the same size, front and back, and there is very little of an "hourglass" cut to them, so the tabs are carried around to the front on very stretchy, very long rectangular wings that almost make the diaper feel like a Euro-thong - it's like the core of a pull-up, suspended by an elasticized belt, at least on me. Having that much of my derrière hanging in the wind is less than confidence inspiring. I shall be testing the limits of these carefully, like they were an experimental aircraft design. We'll see how they perform, but right now I'm not picturing them supplanting anything in my core go-to products. 

 

I have an entire case of these in my study-nappy-wardrobe, up on the highest shelf.  They are over a year old and I haven't used them.

There's something about them that just doesn't tick the "nappy" box in my head.  Similar in visuals to the woeful Depends "belted undergarment", they do however have the decent enough Molicare core.

They are ok enough (and for the price when I bought them, a positive bargain) as long as you are upright when using them and can live with absolutely zero side protection.  They replaced Molicare's earlier premium slip maxi which was in my opinion, the rival of the Abena x4 series but without the dodgy tapes.  Plastic backed would be better again but the plastic backed Molicare I can still buy (the green one, can't remember the name) has a less absorbent core making it unequal to a 2-nappy-per-day diet.

I might use them as a short-haul "safety nappy" for events where visual discretion is paramount.  They are very hard to spot under clothing, I'll give them that.

I seem to remember that the Molicare elastics were designed solely focusing on the price efficiency and OH&S simplicity for carers rather than efficacy or comfort of the wearer.   The original Molicare slip premium maxi (far out those stupid names) were indeed I agree, a stepping zone between Tena and Rearz, not "coach", not "first", kind of "economy plus".

[Little Sherri]

1 hour ago, oznl said:

I seem to remember that the Molicare elastics were designed solely focusing on the price efficiency and OH&S simplicity for carers rather than efficacy or comfort of the wearer. 

This definitely seems to be the case. They may end up in my nappy wardrobe as well, untouched on the highest shelf. I had to drive a staple through the tab on the left after it pulled free of its mooring to the front of the nappy twice within a half hour. There is no excuse for this behaviour, which is what got Tena excommunicated from my congregation. I have a few different models of Prevail slim diaper thingies in my inventory from my attempts to find a decent gym diaper; the lowest end of them are absurdly cheap, but their hook-and-loop tab system was apparently developed by cold fusion engineers on their breaks. They absolutely will not budge. 

1 hour ago, oznl said:

There's something about them that just doesn't tick the "nappy" box in my head.  Similar in visuals to the woeful Depends "belted undergarment",

I'm seeing what your painting. These are something "other" for me as well. Perhaps "loin bandage" is the appropriate term. 

[Little Sherri]

I got a single-use ex-bourbon barrel from a buddy of mine, so I convened my brewing friends and together we made an imperial stout to put in said barrel. The initial indicators are promising, but we won't really know if this was worth the effort for another year or so. However this not a brewing forum, this is a diaper-focused forum, so, I will try to stay on topic. For the brewers out there, the OG landed at 1.093.

In Canada, you are legally required to drink while you brew, so, accordingly, we had a respectable number of IPA's, ESB's, lagers, Pilsners, Saison's and stouts. When we finished brewing and my friends went home, I stumbled upstairs, went into our bedroom, disrobed, and fell flat on the bed for "a couple of minutes", not having brushed my teeth or anything else. My wife was streaming a TV show, and generally seemed disinterested in my exploits. Having dispensed with my jeans, I was wearing an InControl Active Air, and a t-shirt. I plummeted into a deep sleep. 

An indeterminate period of time later, I awoke to my wife jostling me by the shoulder. It was an Herculean struggle to part the dark clouds of unconsciousness and return to the "surface world", but when I did, I quickly ascertained that her primary concern related to my wardrobe. She shook me awake, and when I was able to summon control of my larynx, I said something along the lines of "What do you want?" In reply, she said "Are you going to change your diaper?"  Once I focused my attention, I realized I was wearing a fairly soggy cloth-backed diaper, but what amazed me was the fact that she'd not only registered that I wasn't in an "overnight-rated" product, but also, she felt the situation was critical enough to wake me up to discuss it. With my hand over one eye, I therefore made my way to the bathroom, tossed my heavy Active Air into my diaper bin, and put on a Rearz Elite Hybrid before collapsing back into bed. I hadn't thought that she ever paid much attention to my plastic underwear... I guess I'm mistaken. And the fact that she was concerned that a night of indiscretion had lead to me retiring in inadequate underwear suggests that at least a small part of her thinks that my diapers are "necessary." Or that she's not willing to stake the integrity of the linens on my continence. 

[Little Sherri]

I've had some interesting urgency over the last couple of days. This is not something new, per se, but the frequency is high enough to make the news cycle. I've been quite busy with brewing and small household projects, and about three times, I've found myself making the mistake of concentrating so hard on what I was doing that I forgot my usual background process of dribbling into my nappy every quarter hour or so, and I started holding it, unconsciously, while I was playing around with taking the PH or weighing hops, or holding up and putting screws into a section of drywall.

All of a sudden, I experienced a pronounced and uncomfortable urgency. It didn't have me doubled over or anything like that, but it caused me to stop what I was doing and attend to it. The first time it happened, I actually put my drill down and made a half turn toward the washroom, before coming to my senses. The ensuing release wasn't particularly noteworthy - I'd probably been holding it for 45 minutes or an hour at most. However, it brought rapid relief, and served to remind me to keep up with demands from down below. The same thing happened again while brewing on two occasions (it was about a 5 hour process). My bladder definitely had complaints and wanted to be heard. This is when it would be nice to be able to just deputize the mechanisms to do what they need to, without communicating with the head office. I can understand why people play around with stents and catheters, although I have no interest in inserting anything down there, as I am 100% sure that doing so would result in an embarrassing visit to the ER... it would just be too good of an opportunity to mess with me, for the Universe to miss. "What seems to be the problem, sir?" "Well, let me just un-tape one side of my sodden, unicorn-themed diaper, and I'll show you... see, I found directions on the internet for crafting my own magnetic release catheter, using parts from common household gadgets. Anyway, I believe I have a piece of silicone drinking straw, and a magnet from an ear bud, now residing in my bladder." 

[Little Sherri]

Well, I'm back - I went out to the East coast to visit my brother for the long weekend. Taking a few days off of work seems to produce two weeks worth of work to do, so I haven't been on here much - work has been a sprint, although I'm not complaining. The trip went pretty well; it's been a while since I travelled anywhere, so I had to get used to the logistics of staying at someone else's place and wearing diapers. I was also sharing a room with my daughter, so that entailed sleeping with shorts on and sneaking back and forth to the washroom with folded up sweatshirts etc, to take care of business. The biggest challenge was the garbage situation - they live in an apartment and really only use the garbage can under the sink, which isn't that big, whereas at my house, I have a dedicated diaper pail, and two large garbage cans in the garage. So, I was "helpful" and took the garbage to the chute with some frequency, just so that I could also toss a couple of diapers into the bag before sending it off to its reward. I was careful and conservative, so I didn't have any diaper disasters. Going back, I had almost twice as much space in my suitcase as I did heading there, because I'd burned through most of the diapers I packed. 

In terms of what I wore, it was primarily the Rearz InControl Active Air's, because they're quiet, and then Rearz Lil' Monsters and Lil' Squirts. I did have a moment of anxiety at the airport, wearing a white Megamax, when we were passing through security, and they seemed to be randomly assigning people to either walk through the metal detector (good), or, the body scanner (bad). I had a onesie on over my diaper, and if I'd been scanned, and asked about the bulk in my nether regions, I would have had to request a private screening in order to unsnap the crotch on the diaper shirt and show them I wasn't packing anything dangerous or illegal. But thankfully I got waved through the metal detector instead. Coming back, they were only using metal detectors, no scanners. The diaper I had in my laptop bag also passed through the X-ray machine without comment. I didn't end up needing it on the flight, for which I was grateful - the bathrooms were tiny and I'm not sure what putting a diaper on in there would have been like. Or, what I could have done with the used one, considering the waste baskets typically have an opening about the size of a cell phone. 

Have any of you ever changed your diaper on a plane, and what did you do with the old one?

[BabyJilly_S]

Welcome back, thought it had gone quiet. So the universe decided not to poke you on your trip...  

[Little Sherri]

On 2/25/2022 at 5:02 PM, BabyJilly_S said:

Welcome back, thought it had gone quiet. So the universe decided not to poke you on your trip... 

No, I got lucky - no issues at the airport going either way, and no issues with disposing of diapers, or keeping them on the down-low while sharing a room with my daughter. I just carried everything back and forth the the bathroom. My brother has a very noisy shower so I was able to run that for cover if I needed to do anything loud like opening up a diaper. 

I have had a couple of notable diaper-related interactions with my wife before and after the trip, however. I meant to get on here and write about them earlier, but I've been so busy, it's been nuts. Once this month is over things will hopefully slow down again - there has been a lot of activity at work. Which is good, it's good to be busy, but I've barely been on a computer other than for work.

A couple of them related to the trip - my wife actually packed my diapers up for me! I didn't let her pick them, I knew which I wanted to bring, but, when she saw me jamming them into a reusable shopping bag, she said 'Let me do that' and pulled out a drawstring bag she has, and stacked them neatly into it, and then put it in my suitcase and folded my clothes around it. Background: she hates the way anyone else packs, because she likes to fold everything meticulously, and I rarely have the patience for that. It was thoughtful of her to carefully pack my diapers into my suitcase, and, I took it as another sign that she seems to have acclimatized to my juvenile underwear preferences. 

As she was packing them, she also said "And, do yourself a favour and don't wear a unicorn diaper to the airport, just in case." I don't actually have any unicorn-themed diapers - I think she was referring to my Rearz Lil' Bella's (winged ponies)- but I got her point: if the TSA needs a closer look at your unusual equatorial bulkiness, you probably want to be in a plain medical diaper, not a gloriously printed one. 

Lastly, we were sitting on the bed last night, and I was wearing one of the aforementioned Lil' Bella's, and a sweater, while watching a show on my iPad with my ear buds, while she was watching something on the TV, when she suddenly reached over and tossed a blanket up over my lap, just a second before my older daughter came walking into our room. Normally she'd have knocked, but I think she was texting with my wife about something and just came in to finish the conversation in person. However, I didn't hear her walking toward the door because of my ear buds. So, good save on her part.

After my daughter left the room, my wife took the blanket back, which felt kind of funny, even though it was her blanket, and she had already seen me in my diaper. But it reminded me of blanket tug-of-wars with my sister when she'd try to see if I had a diaper on when I was a kid, and I'd try to keep her from seeing it.