There it is, my own personal theme song. We should all have one (mine have been many and varied over time, including some brilliant Kylie numbers back when I was footloose and fancy free living it up in London). So perhaps I have cheated a little by adapting my latest one from a former famous jingle from the ‘50’s themed show but I can assure you, its more than apt. As I find myself at the centre of the motherhood universe for the very first time, the proud new Mum to 10-and- a-half-month old little Harrison (is there any other kind? Oh yes, the exhausted Mum…), my hazy daze has set in thanks largely to his penchant to poop only when his bottom has been freshly enfolded in a 5-minute old nappy.

As it is now, there is often a sense of de ja vu in my life – change a bum only to find ourselves back where we began just moments ago, but this time greeted with the pleasure of sorting out the well soiled variety! And if there were some kind of competition for changing babies bottoms (and for all I know there could well be), I’m sure I could secure 1st prize – even with a scarf covering my eyes! Oh yes, I have my clean up act down pat – whip it off, wipe it up, wack on the cream and we’re in business again baby!

Now, this being my first trip on the merry-go-round of parenthood, it may well be that this case of Nappy Daze is alarmingly common. You may ask (and many will), why not roll the dice and see if you can have a win on the Craps table? But alas, I have discovered that merely results in great discomfort for both Harrison and I. He, left squishy in an overly soaked nappy and me, left fretting my baby boy’s oh so soft skin is being eaten away.

I give in every time, as every good parent will do. And then, you can almost set your watch by it; some 300 seconds later you will not be surprised to see the surround sound display of some serious grunting and sweating and my son soiling yet another spanking new nappy.

My husband will joke that he heads out the door to work each day just to keep his son in new nappies every five minutes. He believes it very likely I’ve joined a secret underground sect of sorts whereby I trade nappies as currency on the black market. The only thing I am on short supply of these days is time so if bartering a box of them will get you that, then perhaps I should look into it…

Seriously, I am creating a diaper deficit on par with that of the meltdown on the US Stock Exchange! It’s as if his salary – and potentially mine as I’ll be returning to the workforce very soon – has been specifically earmarked by the government to boost the global economy through the inordinate oversupply of essential baby bottom hygiene items.

But, a footnote for those who think perhaps I am just being a wee bit fussy. I don’t have anything against changing a nappy full of nasties; in fact, if anything it is quite the opposite! I am totally impervious to poo. I just need to work in sync with my son so that we don’t continue scorching through our supplies at such a meteoric rate!

So, a final thought for me to mull over… Is this a sign of things to come with my precious little one? Will his seemingly champagne tastes translate to eventually only eating off Grandma’s good china, and deigning himself only worthy of being decked out in designer duds? Perhaps I should take heart and think to the future. Surely this will mean toilet training will turn out to be a veritable breeze, by translating this fondness to save “number 2’s” for the more sanitary potty!