In honor of Mother's Day, and with a nod to The Awl, here is your belligerent guide to changing a kid's filth-laden diaper. You're welcome, assholes.


The first thing to change? That shitty attitude. Changing diapers is no hardship. Someday that child will be revolted to spend 10 minutes within two fucking feet of you. Appreciate the current intimacy.

OK, that's better. Now, a decent diaper change starts long before you ever actually peel that fucking thing off. It starts with communication. Ask that kid if he or she needs a fucking diaper change. Yes, yes, no shit the kid doesn't understand you. That's not the goddamn point. You gotta excite them about the change. Get animated. Make some faces. Is that what you call excited? Jesus. Fine.


All right, we're not just going to grab the kid and blunder into the room and start. Set that shit up. Make sure a fresh diaper and lotion and a new onesie are all within reach of the changing station. You do know where the changing station is right? Yes, it's that thing that would make a perfect mini-bar.

Why the extra onesie? Well, it may shock you to learn this, but diaper technology is less than fucking perfect. In fact, it sucks. FYI: Poop regularly blasts up the back of that thing onto the poor child and his or her clothes. Oh yeah, BIG surprise that all those claims in all those commercials about "wetness control" made by profit-hungry corporations like Kimberly-Clark are horseshit. Shocking. Anyway, a beshat onesie has gotta be changed. No excuses.

And why does the station have to be ready beforehand? You don't want to leave the kid up there unattended while you fucking rummage around for stuff like a hobo. That kid could plop to the floor like a wet hot dog off a grill.

OK, get the kid on his or her back. Before you start there are two gender-specific things you should know. One, boys piss all over the fucking place. Be fucking prepared. A piss cone? No, Mr. Sharper Image, you don't need a fucking piss cone for your son. Girls ... always wipe a girl from north to south, NOT THE OTHER WAY. You want to give her a fucking urinary tract infection, do you? Oh, that time in college the girlfriend got a UTI all makes sense now, doesn't it, you ignorant bastard?


OK, pull down the pants. But NOT ALL THE WAY OFF. Leave them around the ankles like shackles. Unsnap the onesie if necessary. Now, grab the pant cuffs tight and lift the kid's legs up toward the fucking chest. Don't fucking yank, Frankenstein! This is a baby. This hold keeps the feet from landing in doody. Now you can undo the dirty fucking diaper. Oh yeah! Smell that? Smells like love.

That's right, get liberal with those fucking wipes.

Wait, why did you stop smiling and goo-gooing? Smile and goo-goo-ga-ga, you sour jerk. There's no fucking reason to punish that poor baby just because you don't like the shit breeze. Sing a little bit. The least you can do is entertain the kid for a second. You know which dad changed a shitload of fucking nasty, smelly diapers all by himself and didn't complain? Yuki Fucking Ohno, that's who. Want YOUR kid to be grateful enough to someday snare you 200 minutes of appreciation porn on NBC? Then show some fucking spirit.


Much better.

Now, in the case of a real turd circus, you might want to pitch back a bracing ounce or two of bourbon before getting started. If it's an extreme case, you should be able to smell it well before moving the operation to the changing station. Go ahead and pour yourself a few fingers. Just don't make a fucking habit of it. Drunkenness and diaper changing do not mix. You want to get used to using the term "visitation rights"? Fine, then load up, Mr. Hasselhoff.


What are you doing? Just slapping another diaper on there? Christ almighty. Let that shit air the fuck out for a second. The child doesn't have to suffer swamp ass just so you can get back to watching Olivia Munn on Attack of the Show! She'll be there again tomorrow, you know. Jesus. OK, blow on that bare butt. GENTLY, asshole.

Fine, now you can button the operation up.

Bravo, you changed a fucking diaper. What do you want, an award? Guess what, the kid wasn't done in the first place so get ready to do it again in five minutes. And this time, be fucking good-humored about it. Christ.