Click "Follow" up above, on the little bar, to receive more updates on my insignificant time here on Earth. It will be greatly appreciated. And since you took time out of your day to visit my little blog, I think you're pretty amazing.

Saturday, April 16, 2011

Bucket List 1: Changing a Diaper


I have changed a diaper. There are several qualifications for a successful diaper switch.

  1. The user of the diaper must be a child who is incapable of changing his or her own diaper. Otherwise, we're crossing into fetish territory. Not that it is a bad thing…
  2. The diaper must be full of waste. Bonus points for each wave of odor that hits the diaper-changer's nose.
  3. Let's be honest, urine-filled diapers are too easy, since most of the wetness is absorbed. If you want more than recognition, go for the second situation.
  4. Completing the "third" situation earns you the utmost respect, as well as a small neighborhood block party with that quiet guy from middle school as your very own DJ. Also, that bitch who didn't put the goddam charger in your hand after you asked for it will serve you drinks through a bendy straw. (Dropped it on the floor and walked away, when my hand was open. Yes sir, she did.)
  5. The old diaper must be disposed of properly. It should be folded in a trapezoidal manner in which no substance can leak out. The smell, as a result, will be masked.
  6. More bonus points if your hands and upper arms remain clean.
  7. If you are dealing with boys, you must be skilled in dodging streams of you-know-what. Streams of piss, if you were questioning…
  8. Powder. Or diaper ointment. Apply with care.
  9. The new diaper must be nicely fit. Not too tight, not too loose. Juuuust right.
  10. Smile softly while you are doing this.
  11. But not creepily, for the parents may ban you.
  12. Even if you are related.

This is rather graphic. But it is one thing I can cross off the bucket list. It is rather exciting.

In other news, I made a promise that I would never ever compare my children to someone else. Especially when the "better" person is the same damn age or younger. Do parents realize how much that hurts? Today, my dad was fan-boying over a young African-American kid. The race in this case is rather important to note, because that is why my dad was happy.

Apparently, this kid went to college at the tender age of 15. Oh yeah, my age. He then went on to Rice University. So, he's telling me this. And at this point, I am aware that he is smarter than me. I can't deny it. I'm making D's and whatever in chemistry and writing about diapers and watching Bear Grylls drink camel dung juice, and this kid is going to Motherfucking Rice University. And he's black, and my dad loves to go on about how hard it is for "us" to get ahead in life.

He then says something that made me feel unworthy of being his child.

"I'm so proud of him."

Fuck it. Fuck it all. He had never ever said something like that to either one of his daughters. Every fucking day he comes home and he groans at us to wash dishes or clothes. He threatens to cut off the internet when we don't pick up one little napkin on the floor, in the middle of my WebAssign. He blames my mother yet praises all other Asian races for being so smart. Yeah, y'know, why can't I inherit the smart Asian skills? Fuck. When I won an award for something, he smiled for a moment, said "congrats" and went on.

And he just praises a kid he has never met before in his life for being a successful black person.

Fuck. This.

I know I'm not in the top 5% of my high school. Does he not think I am trying?

He tried to soften the blow, because he knew my sister and I heard him.

"I'm proud of you, too."

We don't need the "too."

We don't need any of that.

Dad, I'm sorry I have failed you as a child. I'm sorry I can't play tennis like you want me too. I'm sorry I didn't get that St. Agnes scholarship. I'm sorry I didn't pick up that thing on the floor. I'm sorry I'm getting D's and C's on things. I'm sorry for failing you. I'm sorry I was born a girl.

But I will not apologize for wanting to live my life. Yeah, I might purposefully apply to Rice, and if by some miracle I get in, I will show the letter to him and tear it.

But that would ruin my life, right? And he should not have that impact on me. That's my own father.

"I'm so proud of him."


  1. I will give you some chocolate for the diaper thing. But I gotta agree with you about your dad. For the record I think you are better than any black dude that goes to Rice. You know why? Cause you are cool and will laugh at shit with me. It's our parents job to be bitches and hoes until we're adults. And if they are still bitches and hoes then, then they have a stick up their ass. Parents suck... a lot, but they do have their redemptive qualities.

  2. I am proud to say I have also changed a diaper. Congratulations. The hardest part for me is that the small child whose diaper I was changing was like ADHD and started to try to get away to play with something else before I freaking got it all the way off of her.
    My dad has never told me that he's proud of me. He's told that to my stepbrother. Because in his public school he got to have lunch with the principal because he had all A's and B's. Nevermind that I had all A's in my private middle school, and I made honor roll every year in elementary school. My stepbrother even got his first cell phone because they were so proud of him.
    I only get stuff like "if you keep doing shit like this you're going to fail in life." or "don't fuck this up with your grades like your brother did" and shit like that. Parents always seem to recognize the achievements that other kids make, but they can't see their own. The last time my dad even recognized I work hard when he was telling me I needed to do really well in chem and geometry, cause they're super important and I wasn't doing so well in them and I needed to try harder in school. And I told him about how around 8 or 9 people had left Agnes because it was too hard for them, and they couldn't handle the work. And he conceded that it was a hard school. I've given up on trying to please him. Now I do it for me. I know that if I want to do something I enjoy in life, I have to have semi-decent (more than that really) grades. So I work towards that.

  3. And Micaela. It may not mean much. But I'm proud of you. You're an amazing friend, and you're a good student, you always do your homework afterschool at least some instead of stalking trio or something ;). And you go out of your way to help other people. And I think that pretty much everybody is sucking at chem. I have a C in there too.

  4. @Both of you guys, since it's pleasant to address both of you: I really appreciate you guys taking the time to read this. :) And thank you very very very much for your insight. It's always nice to have things like this as a teenage girl. I can't even imagine not having you guys, around you know. And I guess we do have to live with it. Joy to the world.

    I just...don't understand why parents think it helps us. Maybe if we all become parents, we shall see. Maybe in pregnancy school, they teach us this.

    Can't complain, it's gotten us this far.

    Thank you both so very much. :) :) :) :) QUADRUPLE SMILES AND INVISIBLE UNICORNS FOR YOUUUUU.

  5. Once again, I have replied late. *hides in the hole of shame*. I hate being the last to comment because everything that I say has already been said (and I'm not creative).
    But, basically, parents are really stupid sometimes. They loves us so much, but they may not know how to show it correctly. They really are proud of us, whether they tell us or not. So, in leui of your father and his lack of saying how proud he is of you, I would like to say that I am very very proud of you. You, like Sarah said, really are an amazing friend, whether you know it or not and I don't tell you that enough. And as far as academics go, you are in honors Chem. That's pretty damn difficult. I mean, I'm not in honors chem and I'm not doing very well. Chemistry is just really difficult. Just keep buggering on. I know it seems like hell now, but in two years none of this will matter. So what if you don't go to Rice (even though I know you have the capability to)? It's just a college. Just because it's a famous college doesn't mean it's good for everyone. That probably wasn't worded very well, but I hope you get what I mean.

    Go get 'em, tiger! Rawr! (that sounded way creepier than it did in my head...Oh, well!)