The World According to Mommy

Last weekend we were out running errands, and while we were at a home improvement store, I realized that it had been about an hour and a half since I had last changed Nate. I was sure his diaper was wet, so I decided to change him while Matt went in search of this strangely impossible-to-find piece for our window blinds.

I took Nate over to the changing table in the ladies’ restroom, pulled out the blanket I use as a changing pad (it’s longer than all the plastic changing pads I’ve found, so it covers the whole bottom of the table, plus it can easily be washed), plus all the other required materials for diaper changing.

As I’m working to get the old diaper off, a woman walks in and heads over to the sink and starts brushing her hair (now looking back on it, I wonder if she went to the sink first just so that she could spy on me). I look up a minute later and see her staring at me with what looks like concerned horror. She then takes a big sigh of relief and says, “Oh, good. I thought you had him down right on that changing table without anything underneath him. I saw a show on TV that talked about how dirty those tables are. Now I just won’t change my daughter on them.” I said, “Nah, it’s a good thing I’m not a germaphobe. I figure he’ll be fine.”

I’ll admit I prefer to remain in the dark about just how nasty the world around us is. I know that shopping cart handles, door knobs, water fountains, and public changing tables are gross little germ havens, but I’m OK with that. I understand the world is a dirty place, but I also understand that, for the most part, that dirt isn’t going to kill us.

I don’t take a baby wipe or hand sanitizer to everything Nate’s about to touch. I do have my limits, however, and that includes not letting him lick or chew on the shopping cart handle, even when he would very much like to. I think for the most part I’m pretty relaxed about all the germs he’s encountering every day, maybe too relaxed. I’ve caught him more than a few times trying to eat my shoes. When at a playdate he regularly puts other kids’ toys in his mouth. When playing outside he loves to play the game How Many Times Will Mommy Stop Me From Trying To Eat This Grass. For the most part I don’t obsess over these things (except for my dirty shoes, because that really is just gross).

So Nate’s poor little immune system is being bombarded with all these germs, and on top of that, he has a mom who can’t figure out a way to change him in the back seat, or the trunk, or wherever that other woman changes her baby, so that we can avoid the public changing tables. But really, where does she change her baby? I really should have asked…