Diapers Emotional Hang-ups and the Pursuit of Happiness-- NEW CHAPTER! -- (Author) quartz200420012

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Author: quartz200420012
Timestamp: Oct 2, 2020 at 12:29 PM
Content: NOTE: Chapter 2 is still being cleaned up. If anything, this current Chapter is almost a 100% true part of the overall story.

Chapter 3---Stolen Hearts

Sundays were for football, if you weren’t a member of my family. Sunday’s meant church, heck the entire week was church. You had Tuesday night services and Wednesday night children’s choir practice. Sunday’s started early, especially when I was a small kid. At this point, diapers are still much of a thing. The morning always begun early and I swear at 6am, I would be woken up out of bed, dragged to the bathroom and put in the shower. My parents didn’t even bother cleaning me up first unless I had a messy diaper—they’d just stick me in the shower with either mom or dad washing me up. For some reason that stale pee smell from wearing cloth diapers and plastic pants for 6-8 hours had a unique smell. My mother always described it as “buttered rum.” So by 8am, they’d pretty much have me ready to go.

Disposable diapers at the time were a rarity, not because of the price. My mom for a long time preferred to use cloth diapers. At that time when I was a kid, almost all “new neighborhoods” or those that were near schools; always had some sort of cloth diapering service. For us however, our church had a policy for those kids of nursery age. No cloth diapers were allowed. You had to send your kid with disposables.

So my before I was dressed in Sundays best, my mom or dad would always lay me back down on my bed, open my closet door and bring out the huge bag of disposables. At even a young age, before all this fetish stuff occurred—I had a preference for what disposables I wanted to wear. Pampers might have been winning the war with parents, but I was a Huggies kid. I’m positive it had to do with the fit of the diaper, because even today—if the tapes are wonky, I’m not a happy camper. There were a few times when I would actually tell my parents “No pampers. I wan’t huggies!”(can’t do the baby voice).

Sunday school started at 8:30 and even though I was still in the nursery at my age, they just didn’t let us play or nap till the 11am pickup time. The way things were structured was from the top down. The head of the nursery was an older lady—and was the defacto head of the under 5 kids ministry. She supervised the nursery workers who were high school aged girls. Apparently at the time, it was a really competitive job to be trusted with at church—because of this they only had the most outgoing workers which was a plus for us kids. If you were an older child(4-5) you were expected to help the younger kids(those who just learned to walk. If you couldn’t walk, I’m pretty sure you had the day off and chilled in a walker or crib they had.

So there was this girl. I won’t edit her name out because I think it demeans what she meant to me and honestly her name is engrained into my brain forever. I always think that the moment you meet the opposite sex or realize that “oh this girl is talking to me” for the first time ever, you never will forget that moment. Anyways, Casey was my other half—my polar opposite, the girl who kept me in line, the girl that stuck by me, the girl who would get me into trouble. She was the best friend I had at the time and my parents and her parents knew that we had something special. If I remember things right, we were essentially born a month a part, so as a “couple” who probably shared the same crib a few times, we were going on 3-4 years of solid friendship.

Casey was one of those girls who was sassy but had a sweet side. Even at 3-4 years old she had an attitude and wasn’t afraid to use it. Our nursery at church had one toy that everyone wanted and it was that red and yellow Little Tykes push car. She would literally throw other kids out of the way or attempt car-jacking to get into that drivers seat. I never fought her for the toy, because I wasn’t going to be the kid who bumped their head and cried—even though I’d be the first person she wanted to ride with her. When she wasn’t playing her own version of grand theft auto, we’d run around and chase each other—especially if they let us outside. This girl knew how to push my buttons and a few times she’d take it way to far and I’d end up hurt. The great thing about it was that she didn’t have to get yelled at to come and apologize. I’d always get a hug or kiss out of it if she did run me into the ground or huck a duplo brick at my head.

The best memories I have of her was when her or I were getting our diapers changed. The changing table that our nursery had was more of a converted work desk, and it acted as sort of a large room divider. If I were getting my diaper changed, somehow she’d find a way to climb up or be put up on that table too. I distinctly remember her stroking my hair and talking to me in a really calming voice. If she was getting changed, which I recalled she didn’t like, she’d start to cry and want me to hold her hand. Even for a couple of 3 year olds, who were entire unrelated—we had a sibling type dynamic. To this day, I’d want my own kid to be that kind. If I wasn’t happy, she’d try to cheer me up and if she wasn’t happy I’d make sure other kids stayed out of the way. I didn’t know it at the time, but my mother kept a book at home that listed important events that would happen in the first years of life. Written in that book my mother, it says a few things. Favorite food, favorite color, first word…and then it says “Girlfriend: Casey K.”

Over the years we went through everything together, even though I didn’t potty train when others did, I did have to make that trip to the nursery’s bathroom just to keep her company as she used the training potty. I was kind of confused but the nursery worker told me “Casey could really use some help.” Whatever was going it, the worker handed me a tissue and asked if I could wipe away a tear that was running down her face.

Things change and people grow apart. For Casey and me it had nothing to do with finding different friends or growing up—it was her parents that decided to go to another church. I got to visit her once as my parents were invited to their church one Sunday. She gave me a hug. I didn’t know it at the time, but that, that would be the last time we were together.

Twenty-five years must have elapsed and in the current digital age people always find others on facebook. I reconnected with another old church friend who happened to be friends with a different Casey. I saw the profile picture and even though she was wearing sunglasses I recognized her. She was married and had a family of her own and I couldn’t have been happier for her. I declined to send her a friend request out of respect, but I hope that if I were in out in public she’d recognize me too.