Maybe you don't know about diapers and diaper sizes and diaper buying and maybe I should start by explaining to you. Come together, now, and let's Crack the Diaper Code.
A Disposable Diaper Reference Guide for Confused New Parents and Those of Use Who (May) Need Reminders.
Diapers are sold by sizes. Straightforward? No. You have your size 1, 2, 3. Easy enough, you think. Wrong. There's also your size 1-2. And in some brands, your size 2-3. They overlap in ability to accomodate so you can get just what your lovemuffin's tushie needs. Right? Wrong. Because, for example, my local red-bullseyed big box store doesn't sell the hypen sizes. And my local club wearhouse store sells the 1-2s and doesn't sell 2s at all, skipping right along to 3s. Is that pertinent? Depends on your wee one's poop frequency to skin in square inches ratio, I guess. May I provide a tip? diapers.com They're fast and well-priced and I didn't even embed a referral link there. They have it all, and it's so convenient that you may just stock up, underestimating your lovebug's PF:skin"2.
So then. The sizes, they're for a range, given in weight in pounds, not inches in squares at all. For example, little G is currently swathed in the 2-3s, which offer absorption for babies 14-22 pounds. He's about 19 pounds. Size 3s are 16-28 pounds and I simply didn't think they were necessary yet. I secretly plotted to stall Ms. F on her size change request.
But here's the real truth each parent should know: The Diaper Never Lies. Does it really matter that G is three pounds short of the stated maximum capacity? It has been found true again and again and again that the diaper will reach maximum capacity when it wants to, not when the scale makes a pronouncement. Perhaps when the innocent defecator's mother indulged in piles of meat and roasted vegetables and sno cones and a beer (or two) and subsequently gave unto him of her milk.
Hypothetically speaking, of course.
We have continued to address G's torticullis with visits to his physical therapist. At his most recent appointment on Tuesday she affixed two long strips of medical tape to his back. The tape would pull his shoulders back, she said, and force him to rely more on his neck and abdominal muscles. We were to take the tape off sometime on Friday and let his skin rest, and then affix another two strips on Saturday. Ok, I said to her, much like I said the day previous to Ms. F. The lovely husband and I decided we'd take the strips off Friday night and let him soak in a nice, long bath. We'd slowly remove the strips with lots of baby oil, which would dissolve the adhesive, and some gentle baby massage.
And then this morning G pooped so voluminously that for the first time in my almost 4.5 years of parenting, I had to scrape poop out of elbow dimples. You can imagine that this did not do good things to his pajamas, nor to his medical tape.
And then I chastised myself for the hubris that let me ignore Ms. F's admonitions. Because I may have wiped 2000 poops in the past four years, but she's been a caregiver for decades and raised eight children of her own and I should just buy him some bigger diapers already.
See that link above? I'm heading there now.
And I'm thinking even though we didn't hesitate in pulling that befouled tape of G's back this morning, he still deserves a long bath tonight.