My eldest child is with child and is at this very moment at the hospital. I am going to be a grandfather. I know, I act much too young to be a grandparent, but nevertheless, here am I. As wonderful as parenting has been for the past 24 years, I must say my daughter and her charming husband have no idea what they are getting themselves into. Of course, no new parent does. It is all ohhs and awws until that little munchkin starts to walk. And what brings the pending pandemonium home to me is the following:

Yes, those are cloth diapers sitting on my daughter’s dinning room table. Environmentally safe poo poo platters just waiting to spread joy as they soak in a bucket that should have ‘false sense of security’ emblazoned on the side. No matter how secure that lid may be, the original depositor will return to make a withdrawal.

It was the end of the day some 23 years ago. My wife and I had returned with toddler in tow from a long and exhausting trip. The previous night was a sleepless one visiting friends in another city, trying in vain to get our child to sleep in an unfamiliar environment. As we arrived home and slumped down on the couch we both remarked that nothing, not anything, could get our tired bodies up. Nothing, that is, but the persistent skills of our 14 month old daughter. The smell came first and it was enough to give us energy to turn our heads in the direction of the hallway. And there she was. One poopy diaper in her mouth, another in her hand, and the lidless diaper pail (which had had all weekend to brew in its juices) in the other hand being dragged across the floor with blue and not so blue liquids pouring onto the carpet. Captain Adrenalin to the rescue! We leaped and we dashed, and we stayed up many hours later than we hoped to. I don’t recall who took which duty, but the child was cleaned, the bucket restored, and the carpet -in a word – gross. I still feel noxious thinking about it. It was a harbinger of horrors to come.

Then there was this exciting exploration into texture and function Penatene anyone? My wife had gone to check on our happy cherub who had been eerily quiet after crawling down the hall into her room.  She had recently learned how to pull herself up and furniture surf……indeed. What had up until that point been out of reach seemed too tantalizingly close to ignore:

All over everything. It is what little people do best. You have seen the videos on youtube, perhaps you even had the nerve to have offspring of your own.

They destroy clothing, flooring, walls and car seats and….. hair. Have you ever had a spit up conditioner treatment? I have.  My wife told me at the time in between fits of laughter that they were all the rage for the modern father:

Yep, all over my head. She was a vomit champion. She puked on a dime, and with a smile on her face. And as with all babies, if it wasn’t coming out one end, it was sure to be coming out the other.

My best (read worst) memory was sitting in a Sunday school class when the nursery leader advised me that my then 20 month old daughter needed a diaper change. Is that what you call it? A diaper change? It was up her back and in into her hair. Her bowels exploded and no doubt took out several major Canadian land marks in the process. I cleaned her up and sent her back to nursery and returned to my seat in Sunday school a little more tired and sicker than before. Only this time there was something different. The instructor kept glancing over at me and looking away. Again, the smell came first and it was enough to give me energy to look down. And there it was. Remnants of the catastrophe all down my tie, shirt, suit jacket and pants. A poopophany of filth and, unlike how I prepared my daughter for church, I failed to bring an extra pair of clothes for myself. What was I thinking? And of course, I was sitting at the front of the class so this time, it was the march of shame since it seemed that everybody else in the room noticed the smell well before me. Needless to say, we left church early that day.

A word of caution to my daughter and son-in-law: Try as you might to prepare for such disasters, just accept that your clothes will be stained with bodily fluids and partly digested food for years to come. All the preparing in the world will not be powerful enough to withstand the wrath of younglings. But was it worth it? As I look back through the years of raising 5 wonderful children it all becomes fodder over the dinner table. Tea parties, forts made of blankets and various pieces of furniture, sock puppet movies and so much more. The one bit of advice I do pass on is to create memories. Have family traditions. One of our favourite traditions has come to be our annual camping trip to Galliano Island, one of the gulf islands between the lower mainland and Vancouver Island. My wife is not a huge fan of camping, but Galiano is a place where she will tent.

Family dinners at our home are loud  – full of laughter and telling stories. Reminiscing on days gone by which remind me of all that is right with my life. And now as I enter a new chapter of my life as a grand parent, I cannot wait to do all those things that drove me crazy that my children’s grandparents did. Spoiling them with all the things that responsible parents refrain from: too much ice cream, too many movies, and too many times out of school for a fun adventure. My father passed when I was in my early teens, and my mother died when my eldest was just 4 years old so my parents never had the opportunity to enjoy my children, and my children never had the opportunity to  get to know my parents. So, to my soon to be born grandchild, how I long to see you grow, to see you marry, and to see your sons and daughters born. Destroy what is within your reach as you follow in the footsteps of your mother. And I promise you I will be there to laugh at your folly, to revel in your mischief and to spoil you at my leisure. But just know, we will not be using cloth diapers.