My earliest memory in my life is having my diapers changed. I was around two years old, I was lying on the living room sofa and could see my family at the dining table. My Mom kept me in cotton diapers and latex rubber pants. This the late 1950s, so that was the style. She used to shake the rubber panties above my face and giggle about it.
What was your earliest changing memory?
tomchen said:
At around two years old, I was dry day and night.
When I was 2½/3 years old, my little brother (14 months old) and I had to go back to my former babysitter because my mother went back to work.
This babysitter was a lady around 50 years old.
We were there two days a week for six months, maybe even a few nights, as my mother was a nurse and worked night shifts.
Of course, I didn’t wear diapers during the day or at night and went to the toilet by myself. My little brother had started potty training. He was making good progress. I had always been his role model and wanted to remain so.
I probably wet my bed at the babysitter’s house, but I can’t remember that anymore.
But I can still remember exactly how she suddenly wanted to put diapers on me again.
I was lying naked on a changing table.
I can still see the whole room, it was the living room.
There was a room fountain, and my brother was already in his crib at the other end of the room.
She had a pair of white plastic pants in her hand.
“Shall we put you back in a diaper today?” she asked me over and over again.
I didn’t say anything and felt very ashamed. I was already a “big boy” and didn’t need diapers like my little brother.
At the same time, I was fascinated by the diaper.
“Shall we put your diaper pants on again?” She asked again and again, waving the plastic pants.
Her husband was sitting in an armchair in the same room, reading, and put a stop to it.
“Put his diaper pants on or leave it, but stop now,” he said.
She defended herself briefly, saying that my little brother would be potty trained even earlier than me if this continued.
She probably wanted to make me feel ashamed and beg her not to put me in diapers like a baby. She probably wanted me to promise to try harder and apologize.
I remained silent.
My emotions were all over the place.
Shame that I was going to get a diaper, guilt because I obviously wasn’t as “big” as I should be, relief when I was allowed to be little again. Somehow, I longed for that too.
Like her husband, I felt, “Do it, put the diaper on me, I’d like to feel that again.” At the same time, “Leave me alone, I’m not a baby anymore!”
Both options were fine with me somehow.
But still I just said nothing, did not react.
Then it was decided. She finally put me in the diaper pants, which she waved back and forth in front of me ”threateningly." I remember how she opened the snaps, how the panties hung open in front of me and were slipped underneath me. Thick cloth diapers were put on top and the plastic panties were buttoned up.
Then I was put in a cot in the bathroom (as always, so I wouldn’t disturb my little brother).
There I lay, ashamed of the diaper pants. I lay on my stomach, ran my hands underneath me and felt the thick pants very carefully. “I’m a baby again, just like my little brother,” was how I felt. My honor was hurt. Then I started rubbing them and pushing them further and further down my legs until I had taken them off completely and was lying naked under the blanket.
I can’t remember if I wet the bed afterwards or stayed dry.
But I remember that there was trouble. The diaper must have been torn from all the rubbing and kicking. A button was torn off.
After a lot of scolding for the torn diaper pants, I had to start using the potty next to my brother. Probably as a punishment, because I had been going to the toilet by myself for a long time.
From then on the Babysitter treated me like my little brother. So no more toilet, but potty several times a day and I was diapered for bed (at the Babysitters apartment).
I also had to wear tights over my diapers or even a bodysuit with buttons in the crotch to sleep. Somehow, I have memories of both. I had to wear them over my diapers so that they couldn’t “slip down“ again.
I guess I didn’t dare take off my diapers anymore.
But I know that I couldn’t resist rubbing them and then cautiously started to push them down a few centimeters. Simply because I was so ashamed. A button came undone. I was scared and tried to close it so I wouldn’t get in trouble again, but I couldn’t manage to do it. Then I fell asleep.
When I was a teenager, my mother told me that my parents didn’t know that I was being treated like a baby there.
It was only when they picked me up early one day that they discovered the diaper pants at home when they undressed me. So it’s possible that the babysitter also put me in diapers during the day as a punishment.
My mother said that my father forbade it. However, the enforced potty training before bedtime probably remained a “precautionary measure.”
[End of quote]
It looks like your babysitter’s method backfired. Was she trying to shame you out of something? Back in the day, parents did that a lot. Did it work? I don’t think it did, more often than not. All it did was create an emotional trauma of sorts.
This reminds me of the time I was sitting in the backseat of the family car while my parents discussed my persistent bedwetting. I was about 9-years-old. My father said, “Maybe we should have him wear rubber pants.” I will always remember how I felt at that moment. I thought they were going to dress me up like a baby! Thankfully, that never happened.