Helping strangers in awkward situation
There is no babychanging station at the Bear Valley Visitor Center in Point Reyes National Seashore, unless you consider an outdoor picnic table a babychanging station. A relatively clean picnic table makes for a perfectly manageable babychanging station; I’ve changed my baby’s diaper while balancing him on a chair in a Berkeley Chipotle. But when it comes to serving families of small children, I expect more from a national park.
The Bear Valley Visitor Center is gorgeous. Designed to “blend in with the historically significant ranching culture of this area,” it is considered the park’s primary visitor center. It’s got everything one could want from a worldclass national park visitor center: interactive exhibits on the ecosystems and cultural heritage of the park, an auditorium for video presentations, a rangerled lovely gift shop, a pay phone. But there is no official spot to change a diaper.
I’d found myself with a whole free day alone with my 11monthold, Leonardo. As a new parent, this was an exciting prospect. The Bay Area was our oyster — just mom and Leo. I did the napmath and allotted us four solid hours. A quick scroll of the internet directed me toward Point Reyes. We could take a hike and visit the farmers’ market, the perfect confluence of outdoor exercise and eating.
Leo and I drove the windy roads listening to show tunes. I was feeling like I’d really nailed this parenting thing. Here we were, Leo and me, spending thoughtful time together listening to Tony Awardwinning music en route to fresh air, historically significant walks and organic food so impressive, it once attracted the likes of Prince Charles himself.
First things first, once we arrived, Leo and I had to tackle the bathroom situation at the Bear Valley Visitor Center. It is one of those park bathrooms that’s partially outdoors. It’s got a roof, sure, but the walls don’t reach the ceiling. I had to wait for a disabled stall to become available as Leo was in a stroller. Parents with babies in strollers who need to pee require a stall big enough to enclose all of us.
Bathroom logistics are a major part of parenting. This was not among the abundance of unsolicited advice I received upon announcing my pregnancy. But it’s true.
“Excuse me,” I asked a female ranger once Leo and I had exited the women’s restroom. “Is there a place to change a baby anywhere around here?”
She looked both disappointed and excited. “No,” she announced. “Come with me.” Clearly, the helpful ranger was all too familiar with this very fixable issue that likely affected thousands of caregivers with excellent taste in day trips.
Ranger Feminist, my new best friend, walked us to the information desk of the visitor center where she promptly handed me a suggestion form.
“Isn’t this a national park?” I asked. “I don’t imagine anyone in Donald Trump’s administration is going to care about this.”
Ranger Feminist insisted that suggestion forms go to people in charge of Point Reyes specifically, and that they consider them. I wrote out my simple suggestion, signed it, and then asked for recommendations on where to change my baby, still sitting in his wet diaper. It was then that I was directed to the picnic table outside.
As picnic tables go, this one was lovely. I carry a changing mat in the diaper bag. Our diaper switch went smoothly and came with a federally protected view. The world has bigger problems, no doubt. But diaperchanging stations, which I’ve previously threatened to take on as my cause, attend to a universal human necessity. Not only does it ease the drag of diaper changing, a maintained baby station lets caregivers know that they are considered and welcome. My previous target of Safeway is a private grocery store that owes me nothing but Club Card savings, but a national park is supposed to have us all covered.
Once we’d both handled our bathroom business and filled out the subsequent complaint forms, I decided to hike with Leo in a carrier on my back. Strapping him in to this contraption required help from a stranger, as did affixing Leo’s sun hat once I realized that I could no longer reach him. That’s another thing that I’ve come to count on since becoming a parent: help from strangers.
Hopefully, in nagging the powers that be through this column, visitor complaint forms and passiveaggressively changing my nonverbal baby in front of uncomfortable managers, I can implement a small change and be a helpful stranger, too.
Hopefully, in nagging the powers that be ... I can implement a small change and be a helpful stranger.