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I have been changing diapers for five years, three weeks, and one day. Every day. For five years, three weeks, and one day. Every day since September 23, 2007, I have wiped a tiny little ass, every single goddamn day. My daughter was still in diapers when my son was born, so they overlapped for a while, and then she finally got potty trained (hallelujah). But my son is now 2 and a half, and just now getting the hang of it. Now I know I can’t compete with that Duggar lady’s ratio in the butts-to-wipe/percentage-of-her-life category, but it sure feels like it sometimes. Changing diapers is just such a part of my daily life I simply can’t imagine NOT doing it. I feel like I have simply accepted the role of Senior Butthole Inspector for eternity. I feel like for the rest of my years, I’ll be cramming soggy diapers into that putrid, worthless Diaper Genie. That stupid, foul, not-keeping-the-room-not-stinky Diaper Genie that sometimes has flies in it and makes me dry heave every single goddamn time I empty those vile tubes of shit. But today, my sweet son sat down and pooped. In a TOILET. And for a brief moment I imagined a life without diapers. It’s in the near future. It’s close. So close I can almost smell it.

I’ve always thought of my darling kids, whom I love dearly, of course, as filthy little piglet children. I expected them to be messy, but I never imagined the mind-boggling extent of their abilities.

The sticky little handprints all over everything. The dried raisins, peas, string cheese, and other unidentifiable chunks under the table. The rug that still smells faintly of vomit after our recent bout with the stomach flu. The gazillion tiny toy pieces scattered in every corner. The crusty yogurt blobs on the couch. Ugggghh, always with the yogurt blobs.

Seriously, if I let a herd of feral hogs run rampant through the house, it’d still be cleaner. Now, thanks to some “research” (a lazy Google search and the top result) I can confirm that my beloved babies are, in fact, very closely related to swine.

According to Texas A&M’s web page dedicated to “Coping with Feral Hogs”:
“Damage caused by feral hogs is a growing problem because of their destructive feeding habits, potential to spread disease and increasingly growing population.”

…Hmm. Sounds familiar. And in an article from AgriLife Today, Dr. Billy Higginbotham, AgriLife Extension wildlife specialist, explains:

“Feral hogs were once largely a rural or agricultural issue in Texas, inflicting over $52 million in damage annually,” he said. “But the porkers have literally moved to town and are now causing significant damage in urban and suburban communities. This damage includes the rooting of landscapes, parks, lawns, golf courses, sports fields and even cemeteries, as they search for food. It has been estimated that a single hog can cause over $200 damage annually.”

(source: http://feralhogs.tamu.edu/2011/05/agrilife-today-busting-feral-hog-myths/)

I can personally attest that the porkers are indeed in urban communities, and that a single hog can cause more damage than agricultural experts once believed. One extraordinary morning, my son managed to perform the following in less than an hour:
-Dumped a bowl of ramen noodles over the clean laundry.
-Snatched a stick of butter from the fridge, then rubbed it into the couch.
-Poured a full cup of apple juice directly into my purse.
-Spilled ketchup, stepped in it, then walked all over house, leaving creepy little red footprints everywhere.

And then there was that time he escaped from the bath, ran naked into the kitchen, and promptly took a crap on the floor. He was swift and efficient, much like his hooved hog cousins in Texas. You know, it’s not until you’ve had a fresh human turd in the same room where you prepare meals, when you really just throw in towel. Ok, my little piglet progeny, you win.

My kids, enjoying a quick GoGurt in our living room: