The Writing Mamas Daily Blog

Each day on the Writing Mamas Daily Blog, a different member will write about mothering.

If you're a mom then you've said these words, you've made these observations and you've lived these situations - 24/7.

And for that, you are a goddess.

Sunday, March 15, 2009


Diaper Genie in the Bottle

Late last night, I got into a domestic dispute with the Diaper Genie, and the result wasn’t pretty.

I needed to empty the darn thing, but it didn’t want to be emptied. I did all the preliminary work: pressing the scissors button and turning the knob to cut the plastic. All I had to do then was open the bottom over the trash and set the dirty diapers free.

Well, I trooped outside to the curb in my flimsy pajamas and raised one of the trash lids half-way. I then pressed the magic button on the Diaper Genie and, like linked soccer balls, they rolled out into the trash.

But the last ball wouldn’t let go. I pulled and tugged, and then realized: the plastic wasn’t all the way cut, which sometimes happens.

This is how the diaper genie retaliates. It doesn’t like its job so it doesn’t do it very well, and hopes that I won’t notice, which this time was true. It was late. I was tired. And now I was mad. I tried tearing the plastic, but it didn’t give. Instead, reams of plastic unleashed like the toilet paper my son pulls across entire rooms.

This is when the trash bin saw fit to intervene. Needless to say, it doesn’t like its job either, so you can guess whose side it was on. As I stood there, having it out with the Diaper Genie, the trash lid dropped. Bang! Right on my nose, scraping the skin off the ridge.

Stunned, I held my nose until the pain dissipated, and then pulled my hand away. There was blood. Once I got inside, I realized it’ll definitely scar.

In my pre-baby, outdoorsy, athletic life, I would take pride in the little scars I’d acquire rock-climbing or falling head-first over my mountain bike. Those patches and lines in my skin made me feel tough and strong. I wore them like badges, proving that I pushed limits.

Now there was this: my first scar as a mommy warrior, right in the middle of my face. Yet, it didn’t make me feel tough. It made me feel stupid. Even though, in a different way, I am pushing my limits like never before.

By Cindy Bailey

Labels: , , , ,

StumbleUpon Toolbar Stumble This Post Add to Technorati Favorites

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?