Children's Lit and other pitfalls

My friend Sarah, after long years of trying, is with child.  I'm happy to bursting.  She's a fellow comp. lit. graduate and so I wanted to take a moment to share some of my strong but otherwise superfluous opinions about children's books for her so that she can get her library in order.

Board Books

Good Stuff:

There's a lot of good stuff out there.  For board books I love Sandra Boynton, you can't go wrong with anything she writes or records (she does MUSIC people!  Kids music that doesn't make you want to bang your head against the wall!).  And Eric Carle is the other standard in our house, the Boy went through an absolute obsession with the Very Hungry Caterpiller and he's also thoroughly loved the Very First Book of...series.  There's the Very First Book of Shapes, Colors and Numbers, I think.  He likes them all.  We also deeply love Tommie de Paola here.  He does a lot of old nursery rhymes and children's poetry.

Not so Good Stuff:

The Baby Einstein stuff drives me crazy.  I don't believe in television for BABIES for crying out loud.  That's why they have PARENTS.  And even the Baby Einstein books make me crazy.  The Boy was given a box of alphabet books made by Baby Einstein and I LOATHE them.  But he loves them and so they're the one book I let him use and abuse at will.  He's bent them and built towers with them and chewed them and I cheerfully look forward to the day when I can dump the whole mess of them in recycling.

Other than Board Book--Picture Books:

Good Stuff:

The thing that makes me sad about picture books is that most authors seem to be a little inconsistent.  I found this wonderful book called Tim and the Blanket Thief by Jim Prater at the library, but when I went back and checked out more Jim Prater books they were AWFUL.  So picture books can sometimes be hit or miss.  You can't go wrong with Dr. Seuss unless it's wrong by age.  The Boy LOVES Go, Dog, Go!  And the ABC book but still doesn't have the time of day for the Cat in the Hat.  He loves the Little Red Hen and Corduroy and the Big Hungry Bear and the Wishing of Biddy Malone and there's a series of books Mr. Happy, Mr. Funny, Mr. Grumpy by Roger Hargreaves that we LOVE--they're funny and whimsical.  We also deeply love the Thomas the Tank Engine series.  They're wonderful books, and they teach the value of hard work, cleanliness, honesty, cheerfulness and obedience.  I LOVE them. 

Not so Good Stuff:

He was starting an obsession with Curious George but I've nipped that one in the bud.  I HATE Curious George and I'll tell you why--this dumb little chimp (that they PERSIST in calling a monkey) is routinely disobedient, causes chaos and wreckage and instead of being PUNISHED he's REWARDED!  HATE HATE HATE.  So I pulled all of the Curious George books that we had (some bought and some were given) and I gave them to Goodwill.  I'm sure there are other mothers out there who don't think this is a big deal.  I'm also not a huge fan of books based off of movies.  I made the mistake of buying him these two books that are basically a dumbed down and illustrated re-telling of Cars (for he LOVES the movie), but they are just dumb.  dumb. dumb.  And I'm wishing for my $10 back.  I also have a deep and serious loathing of books that require a lot of sound affects.  My sister, in a fit of HATING us, gave us an Old MacDonald had a Farm book and I REFUSE to read it to him.  The Boy loves it, so it's a daddy-book.  I have NEVER understood the love affair with Where the Wild Things Are.  I don't get it.  Thus, I don't care about it.

Other than Picture Books--young readers:

Technically, the Boy isn't a young reader yet, but he wants to read longer than picture books.  So we've started reading the Henry and Mudge books and we LOVE LOVE LOVE them.  We've also started Days with Frog and Toad which we also really like.  I've also found that the Boy loves poetry--there's something with the rhythm that he really enjoys.  My sister gave us Hail Stones and Halibut Bones which is so much a favorite that I have most of the poems memorized.  We also deeply love a Family of Poems by Caroline Kennedy.  I keep trying to read Shel Silverstein to him, having loved his books much as a child myself, but so far the Boy isn't going for it.

Anyway, there's not much point to this post, but to give you a jumping off point for a library for your future tot.  I was super lucky in that my sister gave me a TON of books that her kids had out-grown.  And what she didn't give me, she told me about.

One last word on reading to your child.  All of the hoity-toity parenting books talk a lot about reading to your child from the very beginning and I agree with that.  But maybe not for the reasons they would give you.  Here's the thing.  I got home with the Boy and had NO IDEA what to do with him!  I knew that I needed to cuddle him and feed him and keep him clean, but beyond that...I was at a loss.  And when in doubt, I generally fall back to books.  So I read to him.  A LOT.  But not cheezy, hokey kids books.  I read him Dickens.  Austen.  Gaskell.  Shakespeare.  I kept a small stash of books that I really loved and found comforting at every spot in our apartment where I stopped to nurse him or comfort him and when I was tired and frustrated and at a total loss, I picked one up and read to him from it.  It calmed us both down, it was soothing and reassuring and he loved just listening to the sound of my voice.  So, when you get down to the last few weeks of your pregnancy, go through your books.  Make small piles of 2-3 books and stash them next to couch or chair, on a shelf near a rocking chair, in your bedside table and when you're so tired you think your going to melt into a puddle of goo and you just can't go on, pull one out and open at random and read aloud to your wee babe.  It will comfort you both.

I'm beyond over-the-moon happy for you two.  Your life is about to change beyond recognition, but it's also about to get sweeter and more beautiful than you knew it could be.

On Comfort

I was chatting with my sister last week and I blurted out my latest opinion.

Comfort is highly over-rated.

Now, don't get me wrong, there are DIScomforts that shouldn't be forced.  Having been one of those girls who kept a different standard growing up, who refused to drink or smoke or run off to get high, or participate in other questionable behaviors--there are some discomforts that are uncomfortable because they are BAD--bad for your body and bad for your soul.

The comfort of which I am speaking is the comfort that can only be found in a self-absorbed and coddled life.  The kind of comfort that is nurtured by people afraid to get their hands dirty, afraid to discipline their children; people who avoid certain choices because it cramps their style or interferes with their personal recreation.  I find myself irritated when people deny themselves opportunities because there won't be running water, electricity, they don't speak the language, their body might not return to its previous shape, there may be blood and GOO, it could be gross or painful or (oh NO!) BOTH.  When people make excuses for their own selfish choices, they don't have the time, or the money, or a house or a nicer car.

Chris and I had had a related conversation earlier in the day regarding doctors and the treatment of cancer.  We were listening to a program on NPR about unconventional cancer treatments and I was expressing my befuddlement at doctors' total unwillingness to TRY something different if the conventional treatment isn't working.  Chris said, "It's about comfort.  This is what they do all day every day.  This is what they know.  This is what's been tested and tried for 20 years and so it's what they trust.  It's about comfort."  What made it all the more interesting was that not 10 minutes later the researchers they were interviewing said the EXACT same things.  That the doctors are unwilling to step beyond their comfort zones, even when it MIGHT help the patient.

Sure, we all have our pet comforts--mine is conditioned air.  Every single summer I wonder why the early female settlers of the American southeast didn't rise up in rebellion against corsets, petticoats and long sleeves.  I am STUNNED that the area was a successful settlement at all, given the almost inhuman summers.  Chris' pet comfort is the internet.  My man gets the DTs when he's without access for longer than a few days.  Everyone has their own, and I am not devoid of understanding for those comforts.  My point is that we should never let our love of comfort come between us and Opportunity.  

Having just spent a year totally and completely outside of my comfort zone, this kind of attitude now makes me crazy.

Here is M, standing on the other side of a YEAR outside of her comfort zone.  I come from the Land of Discomfort to testify to YOU that you can be UNcomfortable and it will not (in fact) kill you.  You will adapt, you will even (perhaps) find things that are exotic that you enjoy in the Land of Discomfort.  You will grow as a person.  And you just might come out the other side, convinced as I am that Comfort is highly over-rated.

An Inconvenient Life

I was in the shower the other day and I was thinking about convenience.

See, sometimes Chris and I don't communicate very well, and much of that boils down to the fact that sometimes communicating well with the other person involves quite a lot of inconveniencing the other person...and this pride, or excessive politeness or whatever it is has led us to some marital doldrums.

But it did start me thinking...

Here's my theory, Life can be either Good or Convenient.  Seldom is it both.  And it works with all facets of life.  Food that is convenient--prepackaged, frozen, take-out, fast food, it's all convenient--it's fast, requires little thought and makes few dishes--but none of it is really good and neither is it good for you.  A convenient life has neither spouse nor children for all of them make life remarkably INconvenient.  Come to think of it, a convenient life has few friends and no family as well.  A convenient life would involve only leasing and never buying; on-line bill-pay, shopping and communication; copious amounts of television viewing and the microwave would be the most frequently used appliance in your kitchen.

I was thinking of the things that make life GOOD and here's my list:

• Family:  be it parents and siblings or husband and child, they make life sweet.  And no, they aren't particularly convenient, it all takes time and there are misunderstandings and miscommunication and a marriage takes a lot of time away from personal habits of time-suckage.  But when Family is Good it is very very good and very worth the inconvenience.
• Real Food:  I'm a big promoter of HOMEMADE.  Homemade bread, real dinners cooked on the STOVE with real ingredients, many times involving vegetables.  I also prefer organic stuff because it tastes like real food.  Are any of these things convenient?  Nope.  Ask an organic farmer.  It's hard work, it's smelly and messy work.  But the rewards are so very GOOD.
• Real Life:  Life is messy.  But it sure beats it's unreal cyber counterparts.  I'd rather have social awkwardness with 4 friends in real life than no awkwardness and 592 friends on Facebook.  I'd rather have a stammering and inelegant but REAL conversation than write an eloquent blog post.  (As I think you can probably tell by now...)
• WORK:  I know.  An incredibly unpopular subject right now.  But work is actually a GOOD thing.  As long as it's GOOD work.  And I think about the things that I classify as good work:  cloth diapering, knitting, homeschooling, sewing, church callings, study and service--they're ALL inconvenient, splendidly so!  But they're the kinds of work that make you feel GOOD while you're doing them--and ok, once they're done.

Life is Messy.  But it's a Glorious Mess and well worth the making.

2010 Mission Statement

I rarely write these down, but I wanted to make sure I'm not crazy for doing this, so here goes.

Every year--at the start of the year--I start thinking about what I want to focus on during the year.  I usually pick just one thing.  Last year it was physical fitness.  I had this phrase that I kept poking in my brain--my inner athlete.  I wanted her to feel the love, so last year I focused a lot of energy and time on working out and trying new things--30 day Shred (the video that makes me want to DIE, but also makes me feel strong), running, walking, a fitness buddy (hey Debbi!  I miss you!), and yoga--all done regularly.  And by September I was in pretty decent shape, back in my pre-pregnancy denim and skirts, back to feeling pretty healthy.

This year, I've been thinking about this passage from the end of a Christmas Carol.  I read it back in December and it's been stuck in my mental socks ever since:


"Some people laughed to see the alteration in him, but he let them laugh, and little heeded them; for he was wise enough to know that nothing ever happened on this globe, for good, at which some people did not have their fill of laughter in the outset; and knowing that such as these would be blind anyway, he thought it quite as well that they should wrinkle up their eyes in grins, as have the malady in less attractive forms.  His own heart laughed; and that was quite enough for him."

Charles Dickens

 I've been thinking about how much time and energy and STRESS I expend in dwelling on what others think about me.  About how I look, how I dress, how I speak, how I write, how I parent.  And it bothers me.  Mostly because I know that at the end of the day, it doesn't really matter what other people think about me.  And also because I don't WANT to care what they think, I don't want to dwell on it.  I just want to live my life.

So that's what I'm doing in 2010.  I'm living my life and if people laugh.  They laugh.  If they criticize, they criticize.  If they stop reading, stop calling, stop whatever-ing.  So be it.  I am M and I can be nothing more nor less.  This is the year I set myself free from everyone else's opinions.

Have you seen this?

I've been watching this series that NBC is doing on Women.

Have you SEEN this?

So far as I can tell, we are ALL unhappy. Miserable. Indefinably morose. With careers or without. With children or without. Old and young. Black and white. Blah and blah blah blah.

And then the EXPERTS go on to talk about BALANCE. Like it is a pill to be prescribed by someone in a white coat. Like it's some oasis on the horizon and if we just focus and BALANCE then we will ALL be magically HAPPY.

Let me tell you what I think.

BALANCE is a MYTH. A big, FAT media-perpetuated MYTH to make us all feel MORE inadequate.

Want to know some of my secrets to contentment (I hate the word HAPPY. Happy is FLEETING, it's TEMPORARY, FICKLE and EPHEMERAL, so I refuse to use it or to seek it. I look for contentment, I look for PEACE.)? Two things (well, more than that, but I have that link over to your right about what we believe, that's a big part of it, but not the point of this post): PRIORITIZATION and MODERATION.

Revolutionary, I know.

I have never been one of those women who wanted to have it ALL. I'm not capable of BALANCE. I know this about myself so I spare myself the frustration and depression and I don't chase after that illusion. Instead, I prioritize what I must do, what I need to do and what I want to do. The rest, I let it go. Someone else will do it, some where along the way.

After that? I remember this: Moderation in ALL things. That statement shifts in meaning if you shift the emphasis, this is where I place it. And I remind myself that there are times and seasons in our lives...we're just not meant to have it ALL, ALL AT ONCE. We have kids when we're younger because we can't keep up with them when we're OLD. But you know what we CAN do when we're old? We can travel and sew and read and write and serve (in ways we can't do when we have kids).

I think I've watched the last segment of this series that I can stomach, if they try to tell me one more time how to be HAPPY, I think my a** will begin to TWITCH. (name that movie!)

How do I say this politely?

Can I please just vent some spleen for a minute here? I'm sorry, I try really hard to keep my blog vitriol free, but I have to do something or I'm going to BURST INTO FLAMES.

Chris works with some very nice people, many of them women. Most of them in their mid-40s, smart, attractive, very professional women. My complaint is not with them specifically but with a sentiment that is often associated with the whole Working Moms verses Stay at Home Moms debate.

(And believe me, PLEASE BELIEVE ME, I'm not looking to get in to that debate here. This is just M venting spleen and it's been a long day, in a long succession of long days and Chris has been gone for, oh, 14 hours just today and no phone calls and no emails and no text messages and we haven't really talked all week because he works for, oh, 12 hours (at least) and then comes home and collapses. So I could just be feeling a teensy bit isolated and overwhelmed and it's just heightening the melancholy, which I'm trying to avoid because it just makes me cry, and crying makes my head hurt so I'm turning to my good friend RAGE to see me through. Are we all on the same page now? Ok, good.)

Can I just say, for a moment, how TIRED, how ANNOYED, how INDIGNANT I am with the Working Moms smiling and nodding so condescendingly about how I am doing the BEST thing for my child? And how WONDERFUL it is that I stay home! And how they would have LOVED to do that but blah blah frickety frackety BLAH.

First, let me say, I don't need your approval. I know I made the right choice for my family. Second, you don't know me, you don't know my life, you don't know my choices so please don't presume to pass your approval off as some kind of INFORMED anything. It's NOT. It's superficial AT BEST. Third, when did my child's or my FAMILY'S welfare become any of your business AT ALL? My family, my kid, MY business.

I know. Is it really worth this RAGE? I'm not sure. I'm not sure why I'm so sensitive about this right now. I suspect it's the vein of insincerity that courses through the whole damn situation. The smiling and nodding and the pretense of the whispered, "oh, I would have stayed home BUT..."

Here's the thing. I'm not stupid. I get it. I do. It's NICE to have an office with a door you can shut. I would LOVE to have an administrative assistant to work up my schedule and organize my life. I would buy her Godiva chocolate on Administrative Assistants day (Wednesday of the last full week of APRIL). I would LOVE to have the additional income. I would love to wear smart clothes and jewelry. Heck, today I would love to wear something that my kid hasn't wiped his face on!

And it's LYING when you try to tell me that these things don't factor into your decision. They DO. I know they do. I've MADE that decision before. And the money thing? Don't you think that people become accustomed to a certain lifestyle and then, that's just it. They're comfortable where they are and they think that they CAN'T become accustomed to anything less. And I know, BELIEVE me I know, that there are moms who HAVE to work, there is no other option--bills must be paid, mortgages and medical bills and student loans and car loans and endless endless demands for money. I really do. I have a lot of lovely women friends who work and are AWESOME Moms (CD and SH I'm looking at you two primarily, but there are others out there--although, CD, I'm not sure if you count yet, but you know...in 4 more weeks), but they're also the ones who have NEVER condescended to me in this way, and so are exempt from this rant.

(I probably shouldn't post this. I'm in a really weird head-space right now and there are an awful lot of parentheses and ALL CAPS...)

I think at the root of all this angst is that I feel like that condescension, that petulant treatment, undermines and devalues the choice that we, who have taken the road less traveled, have made. It some how makes it worth less than it really is. I don't stay home because I had no other choice, I stay home because I CHOOSE to, because I WANT to and not because I don't have any other options. And if there are mothers who work (ahem, they aren't reading this, but I'm thinking of some very well-dressed women at the hospital), that's their choice and that's fine too. Just admit that it's your choice and LEAVE IT AT THAT.

After all, who are any of us to judge the choices of another--good or bad? We don't live in their heads. We don't live their lives.

Hot Fruit Eaters--How wrong you are.

Ok, so I promised this post to Whimsy quite some time ago and here it is at last. I can't promise that it will be witty or funny or anything other than a rant against any and all forms of hot fruit out there, so readers, ye be warned.

I've always had some food issues. I can't take time to explain them all, I need a shower. But I can give you the run down on one big one and a small subset issue regarding FRUIT. And since it's summer time, it seems appropriate.

I love fruit. I love fruit, fresh and in it's season. Eat peaches in the summer and only in the summer. And likewise, fall is the best and really only time for apples. Chris and I went to Costco and stocked up on fresh produce, strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, peaches, and cherries. Mostly we eat them fresh, room temperature in the case of the peaches, or COLD. Cold otherwise known as The Only Proper Way to eat FRUIT.

Chris just came in and saw what I was doing and demanded that I allow the exception for Pie. Pie can be eaten hot or cold in his opinion. I will allow the motion to carry but only for certain kinds of Pie. Namely, Peach Pie or, in very occasional circumstances, Blueberry Pie. All other pie should be served room temperature! All in favor, say Aye.

What really grosses me out are the fruit compotes. Or. OR! The people who insist on pairing HOT fruit with things like MEAT. UGH! Oh, gag. Am feeling nauseous just thinking about it. My favorite BIL likes hot cherry sauce on his HAM. HAM! UGH. I love Jeff, but MAN, that's revolting.

I've never really stopped to analyze why I hate the Hot Fruit so much. I think because it's so FAR from normal. Fruit ceases to be hot as soon as it is plucked from the ripening sun and brought inside to be consumed. From there on, it's all over with the hotness and it should be consumed as nature intended it--room temperature. But then! Then! Man went and invented the refrigerator and discovered how beautiful cold fruit can be, and thus, the modern age was born. Once strawberries went into the refrigerator, they not only lasted longer, but they TASTED better!

And refrigerator is a really hard word to spell. Moving on!

I think my love of cold fruit is why I also think that smoothies are the most perfect thing ever. It's fruit--COLD. Blended with yogurt and protein powder and therefore it can be consumed with a STRAW requiring no hands or dishes. It's brilliant! Chris says it's not real food. He's very hobbitish in his beliefs about eating--proper meals involve chewing.

I will allow that a slice of peach pie, warm from the oven and topped with a scoop of vanilla ice cream that melts into all the soft folds of the peaches, is a thing of beauty. And I have upon occasion sampled Chris' blueberry pie, likewise warm from the oven and melting into a purple swirl with vanilla ice cream, is also occasionally pleasant. But stray too far from that pie path and all goes WRONG.

I don't like apple pie, I never eat it. Someday I'll post a list on this blog of the other ways in which I am unamerican, but that's not really for today. Cook an apple and you ruin it. Apples should be crisp and crunchy and nothing else.

Cherry pie is awesome, particularly when made with sour cherries, but it's best at room temperature. Strawberry pie is best with fresh NOT cooked strawberries and therefore eaten COLD.

And that bring us to the end of M's happy walking tour through the world of Pie. I can't begin to comprehend what on earth people would want with any other form of hot fruit. I see recipes for compotes but I have NO idea what they would be used for because anything and everything seems WRONG with a compote. And we shall not, shall NOT I say, go near the idea of Mincemeat.

Staging a Kitchen Revolution

My sister recently gave me a copy of Dr. Sears' book The Healthiest Kid in the Neighborhood, which is what I read this week.

The result? I'm staging a revolution in my kitchen. I'm debating the placards and banners to use, but I'm pretty sure the content is going to be along the lines of...

DEATH to High Fructose Corn Syrup!

Kill your Hydrogenated FATS!

BAN artificial FOOD!

Yes, I'm a vegetarian. I have been for a decade. But I once prided myself on being the planet's lowest maintenance vegetarian. I wasn't a health nut by any means. And then I had the Boy.

Funny how he changes everything.

The thing is, what I may not care about for myself, I care about A LOT for him. I want him to be healthy. He's pretty well doomed by his genetics for diabetes and high blood pressure--but I can hold it off for a while by teaching him to eat real food.

So among other things, I cleaned out my pantry. Mrs. Butterworth has been removed from the premises. The Nutragrain bars are in the trash. Bye-bye Nilla Wafers, you were delicious but I value my health (and my sanity) more than your crispy vanillaness. And those fruity puffs for kids? Yeah, those were tossed along with the rice rusks. There's NO nutrition in any of that. And it doesn't resemble real food. It's effectively teaching him that fruit should be crispy and puffed and that's not FRUIT.

Instead? I stocked up on low-fat plain organic yogurt. I bought tons of frozen fruit for smoothies. I picked up fish which we started incorporating into Chris' and the Boy's diet yesterday. I loaded up on fresh veggies for salads and snacks. I bought flax seed and quinoa just for fun!

Yesterday for lunch the Boy had white beans cooked in garlic and Italian herbs with a spoonful of whole milk ricotta cheese and some lemon juice, on the side he had some whole wheat Melba toasts. He's loved it before and yesterday was no different, he slurped it right up. I had the same bean mixture with whole wheat pasta and Parmesan--it was like a healthier version of cream sauce. For dinner we had salmon sauteed in olive oil with salt and pepper and some stir fried zuccini with peppers and onions. It was AWESOME. This morning I had a mixed berry smoothie with yogurt and ground flax seed. Mmmmm. I love a smoothie.

I know. It's so HARD. The same old argument. Chris even said it to me in the grocery store when I flipped over a box of Wheat Thins only to discover high fructose corn syrup. I banished them to the store shelves, and turned on him. I said, "No. It's not really hard. It's inconvenient. All of these foods--they're convenient foods. But the thing is, [the Boy] is not convenient. Being his mother is not convenient. Being an adult is NOT convenient. And if I'm already inconvenienced by my life, I may as well go the full Monty and be REALLY inconvenienced." At which point the conversation sort of degenerated, as I'm sure you can imagine.

Moving on!

The thing is. I'd rather put myself out to make wholesome food for him (and for US), than have to drive him to 4 frillion doctors appointments later on. And there's no guarantee that I still won't have to do that--but real, whole foods is a place to start.

But it's so EXPENSIVE. Yes. We've shifted money from our Health Insurance pay out (Chris will get better converage through his job and have to pay out less per month) to our Grocery Budget. I think it's well worth the investment. According to Dr. Sears, studies have shown that kids who eat healthier have fewer colds, flus, tummy woes and other infections. And that's to say nothing of dramatically reducing the risk of juvenile diabetes, obesity and early onset of heart disease.

But. Chris.

Yes. Chris. The man loves junk food. Krystals, Chick-fil-A, biscuits and gravy, anything FRIED, BBQ, everything dipped in MAYONNAISE, Vive le High Fructose Corn Syrup! He has a whole relationship to questionable food products that I do not understand.

We have a deal. He's giving me free rein for 3 months. I do all the shopping and meal planning for 3 months and he eats what I make and if he doesn't feel any better at the end of it, then he gets to go back to what he's eaten for nigh unto 30 years. BUT! If he does feel better at the end of the 3 months, then we stay on our chosen track. Which, I am that SURE that he'll be able to feel a difference. He already eats tofu with me, people, the rest will be fairly easy. And we're both committed to setting the example for the Boy. We both want him to develop healthy tastes, so we're willing to sacrifice our own bad food habits to help him to form good ones.

Today I had to pass up Mayfield's Brown Cow ice cream and I thought I would cry, right there in the freezer section. But it has high fructose corn syrup in it and I don't want diabetes. So it's staying in the freezer section and I'm moving on to produce.

Refuse to be Manipulated

I've blogged about cloth diapering before. And while I try not to be offensive and respect people's choices, I sometimes shake my head and think, "Dude. Cloth diapers. End of discussion."

I am an unlikely advocate for cloth diapers. I'm a bit of a germ-a-phobe, I hate mess and clutter of any and all kinds, and I have a highly sensitive gag reflex. And yet. I think anyone who plans to have more than one child should start off cloth diapering. I think almost EVERYONE should be cloth diapering right now.* Dude. Can you imagine how many diapers the Duggars have gone through alone?!? Seriously.

We started cloth diapering because I was fairly certain that I would want to quit work to stay home with the Boy and I knew that our budget was going to have to tighten. So in typical Mormon fashion, I started to prepare in advance. Chris and I saved and saved and SAVED as much money as we could (almost HALF of my annual salary) and then I started making plans to cut our weekly expenses. I had planned to breastfeed exclusively (I planned for a year but yeah...my boobs think that they're really only here for aesthetics) and we made it for five months. I bought baby clothes from consignment and half price sales to last for the whole first year. And we planned to cloth diaper. So initially it started out as a good financial decision...

Then we started talking about other aspects. Did you know that Burnstopia has NEVER seen a stitch of diaper rash. (yes, I'm knocking on every wooden surface within reach.) And since I tend to break out in a rash just by looking at certain things, I'm chocking that up to the cloth diapers. The Boy...he has my skin (it's still nearly translucent and you can still see all the veins in his head...it's quite pretty in an anatomical kind of way...), and the cloth diapers--free from all those nasty chemicals and pulpy paper--keep him fresh as a spring day.

I love this clip from Saturday Night Live--especially the bit where Madonna is talking about burying a diaper in her back yard. The depressing truth is that it takes disposable diapers 500 YEARS to decompose, let alone grow anything. And what no one ever talks about is the fact that you're not supposed to wrap up the solid waste and dispose of it in the diaper itself. It can contaminate ground water supplies. (For the record you're supposed to shake ALL solids into the toilet whether you use cloth or disposables. And if you're going to do that with disposables, you may as well use cloth diapers!)

Environmentalists talk a lot about carbon footprints, and one of the things people don't talk about with carbon footprints is CHOICE. With cloth diapering, you have a choice of how big of a carbon footprint you leave. We use all natural detergent and we line dry everything. With disposable diapers you have NO choice, none. And isn't choice a good thing?

And yes, I've heard all the counter arguments, all that laundry! The squick factor! Extra work! It's so HARD! And all I have to say is BULL. First of all, from the moment we brought the Boy home I was drowning in laundry, a load of diapers every couple of days is NOTHING! To say nothing of the fact that I wash them in the washing machine, I don't beat them on stones to clean them! The machine does all the work, so really, are you kidding me? And lastly, I've seen nastier things from my son in disposables than I have in cloth. He's NEVER had a blow out in cloth diapers--I cleaned up more than a few of them in disposables. And once you've cleaned up a blow out, you've done more than clean up a cloth diaper. At least in the cloth diapers I only have to clean the diaper and not everything he was wearing and/or sitting on!

Now. I know...I can hear some of you thinking from here, "Well, the kind of diapers you use are so nice and expensive, I don't have the money to buy those." Maybe so, maybe no. We bought the bumGenius 3.0s and now that we have them we've also bought some lovely, soft prefolds to use when we travel. They're cheaper than the bumGenius but just as effective. Slap on a waterproof cover and it doesn't get much simpler than that. We're starting to look ahead to baby version 2.0 and planning for that child to be cloth diapered exclusively. And there are more than a few websites specializing in reselling the more expensive diapers. And let's pause for a moment to think about the fact that cloth diapers will last for more than one child, and suddenly they aren't quite so expensive.

Lastly, let me warn you all. Don't be Manipulated. The makers of disposable diapers WANT you to believe that cloth diapers are too inconvenient, too messy, too expensive blah blah blah. They're making MONEY on you. They want to scare you into a disposable submission. And in case you don't believe me, check this out. And we come back to choice. I'm not about to be dictated to by a big business conglomerate about how to parent my child--and nor should you.


The Boy says, "My heiny is happy in my cozy soft diapers!"










(And yes, those are my feet in desperate need of a pedicure. A pedicure that's going to wait for a good long while until I can rationalize spending $20 for a really good foot rub.)


*I do think that there are some reasonable exceptions to the rule, frequent travelers and those moms of extreme multiples--you know quintuplets (oh bless us and save us) and such, those poor women are totally off the hook.

Strong Opinions

Years ago, Vladimir Nabokov published a book titled Strong Opinions in which he expressed his views on...oh, everything. I've never read it--I prefer his Speak, Memory--but I give it mental space because it so amuses me how MAD people got after reading it.

After all, it's in the title. Opinions. The book isn't titled: This is the Way All People Should Live EVERYWHERE and if they were Anyone of Value they WOULD. It's titled Strong Opinions (and it should be subtitled Ye Be Warned).

I reference this because I'm launching a new series of posts around here and I'm borrowing the title. The man is dead, and I sincerely doubt that my blog would reach up to his intellectual standard of reading, so pfffffft.

I have some strong opinions. I mostly keep them mum because sharing opinions can occasionally come off as being in direct contradiction to the Burnstopia rule of Live and Let Live; and there are people who share their opinions as if there was NO OTHER point of view. So, let's all be clear at the outset--these are my Opinions, and while I think that it would be awesome if more people chose to see the world this way, I fully respect everyone's right to choose for themselves what works best for them.

I have a few opinions that I intend to share, and if you all think of something you'd like to hear my opinion about, feel free to ask for it in the comments or via email.


Also, as a side note. If a post offends you, please EMAIL me. I would hate for anyone to stop reading, get huffy, or...well...be offended because I went up to the edge and then just moseyed right on over it. I'm a totally neurotic girl, but I pretend to be pretty laid back. Anyone can talk to me about anything and I can almost keep my cool. So please, don't fester.