All the motha's out there. Check it.
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Start talking Sex? She just started walking!
When they start talking, you start talking. Yes. That's right. The first impression children receive of something is the one that sticks. And it's really hard to 'undo'. Of course, the content is age appropriate, but it's the beginning of a converstaion that should never end. According to Stanton and Brenna Jones, authors of How & When to Tell Your Kids About Sex, this conversation can't happen soon enough in today's world. Your four-year-old should know that his wee wee has a biological name, and that it is the name God intended for it instead of the lovely four letter nicknames they will hear it called once they hit school age.
Prevention of devasting events in early life is the key to this, of course, and why early childhood developmental programs now discuss themes like 'no touching' in their safety curriculums. Thank goodness they are doing this, but parents need to open their mouths too.
My jaw dropped when this great Christian-based book told me that by age 8, I should have discussed in honest, serious detail what 'intercourse' is with my daughter, and that I should include the real explanation of where babies come from. My heart stopped and I got butterflies. Would I even have the nerve? By God's lovely grace, she walked in and my efforts to hide the book, since she always looks at my book titles, failed, and all my inner voice said to me was, "ok, here goes." So I used the real biological words for our private parts, told her it was important for her to understand it from me rather than stuff she hears at school, and explained it just like Mr. and Mrs. Jones told me to. To a tee. And she looked at me and said, "I don't get it."
Oh boy. I'm stuck. I have no idea what to say and I can't exactly say, "Hold on while I flip to page 43 of my handy dandy notebook." So all I could say was, "Well, you will one day. We'll talk more soon."
I choked! This is hard stuff people!! But it's important. They need to hear it from us first. So these great authors have written a book for the super critical age of 8-11 called What's the Big Deal?, which is the cover photo on this post.
I'm ordering it today.
With statistics like 72 percent of kids today are nonvirgins by senior year of high school, one adolescent pregnancy begins every 35 seconds amounting to to more than 1 million teenage pregnancies each year, and that in 1985, nearly 500,000 abortions were performed on women ages 19 & under (How & When to Tell Your Kids about Sex; Jones, Stan and Brenna), I think every parent in the WORLD needs to buy this book. and then there's STDs, drugs and alcohol, rape, and lifetime emotional effects of teenage sex!
I'm pretty sure that left to the media, entertainment, and planned parenthood, this ugly ball just continues to roll downhill.
That straightened me right out. No more fear in talking with an 8-year old. Just facts. And probably some rosy cheeks and light beads of sweat.
Booby call.
OK. So I know it's potentially a little distasteful, but when you're up every night three to six times dealing with babies and toddlers, my mind just 'goes there'. Words bop through my head like my 7-year old on a pogo stick and I frankly just can't help myself.
So last night as I once again scooped up my 6-month old for a 2am breastfeeding, these are the words that came to my mind. Up again for Andrew's 2am 'booby call'.
I had to laugh. Those words brought back vivid memories of the college days, and of what everyone joked about being 'the booty call'; the extremely unfortunately event that occurs as a result of dialing the phone after a late night out with friends, usually to your latest crush. Generally, nothing comes of the 2am 'booty call', with the exception of your head buried in your books at your 8am biology class the next day to shield embarassment. In fact, you think you just might die if the person on the other end of the line only 6 short hours ago was able to get out of bed and to class at all. Whew...thank goodness those days are long gone!
The'booby call' is ever so much less humiliating. It is actually beautiful. So where my dilema is in the 'booby call' is a result of reading Dr. Marc Weissbluth's Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child. I'm not sure how I escaped knowing the existence of the fascinating and potentially life-saving book prior to my fourth, yes fourth, child, but it sure would have been nice to discover say, eight years ago, when I was pregnant with number one!
Despite I have only discovered it now, it has helped tremendously in developing sleep habits for our 6-month old that in turn help us deal with the rest of the clan. Although I do not follow it exactly. Being co-sleeping parents for nearly eight years, I can't let him cry through the 2am 'booby call'. Dr. Weissbluth so tenderly pleads (and I mean he actually says "please do not go to your baby at 2am"), but unfortunately, I just can't do it unless I'm so dog tired I barely hear him. I may be sleepwalking, but my body, soul, and mind just can't refuse that sweet little cry. I try to do the 5, 10, 20 minute check thing, but then you are losing sleep anyway. I know everyone says that if you can endure three days, then you're good to go. Obviously, I can't even endure three days.
But, of course, the caviat is, I'm exhausted, our toddler still doesn't sleep through the night, and sometimes our 5 and 7 year olds wake claiming 'bad dreams.' We could do some serious damage in a musical beds competition.
Yet, other writers of pro-co-sleeping books, claim that kids will eventually settle into their independence if you don't push them out of your bed too early. Like when? When they go to college?
But if you're like me, the 'booby call' is just too hard to resist. But I'd sure love to get some sleep.
So where is the grass greener? Let them cry and eventually they'll just sleep through it? Or keep going to them, and giving in to that nuturing instinct? And just accept that you might share a bed with your husband alone again when you're at retirement age.
I guess I'm just a softy.
So last night as I once again scooped up my 6-month old for a 2am breastfeeding, these are the words that came to my mind. Up again for Andrew's 2am 'booby call'.
I had to laugh. Those words brought back vivid memories of the college days, and of what everyone joked about being 'the booty call'; the extremely unfortunately event that occurs as a result of dialing the phone after a late night out with friends, usually to your latest crush. Generally, nothing comes of the 2am 'booty call', with the exception of your head buried in your books at your 8am biology class the next day to shield embarassment. In fact, you think you just might die if the person on the other end of the line only 6 short hours ago was able to get out of bed and to class at all. Whew...thank goodness those days are long gone!
The'booby call' is ever so much less humiliating. It is actually beautiful. So where my dilema is in the 'booby call' is a result of reading Dr. Marc Weissbluth's Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child. I'm not sure how I escaped knowing the existence of the fascinating and potentially life-saving book prior to my fourth, yes fourth, child, but it sure would have been nice to discover say, eight years ago, when I was pregnant with number one!
Despite I have only discovered it now, it has helped tremendously in developing sleep habits for our 6-month old that in turn help us deal with the rest of the clan. Although I do not follow it exactly. Being co-sleeping parents for nearly eight years, I can't let him cry through the 2am 'booby call'. Dr. Weissbluth so tenderly pleads (and I mean he actually says "please do not go to your baby at 2am"), but unfortunately, I just can't do it unless I'm so dog tired I barely hear him. I may be sleepwalking, but my body, soul, and mind just can't refuse that sweet little cry. I try to do the 5, 10, 20 minute check thing, but then you are losing sleep anyway. I know everyone says that if you can endure three days, then you're good to go. Obviously, I can't even endure three days.
But, of course, the caviat is, I'm exhausted, our toddler still doesn't sleep through the night, and sometimes our 5 and 7 year olds wake claiming 'bad dreams.' We could do some serious damage in a musical beds competition.
Yet, other writers of pro-co-sleeping books, claim that kids will eventually settle into their independence if you don't push them out of your bed too early. Like when? When they go to college?
But if you're like me, the 'booby call' is just too hard to resist. But I'd sure love to get some sleep.
So where is the grass greener? Let them cry and eventually they'll just sleep through it? Or keep going to them, and giving in to that nuturing instinct? And just accept that you might share a bed with your husband alone again when you're at retirement age.
I guess I'm just a softy.
Be consistent. Be exhausted. Be rewarded.
There are a gazillion books on parenting with conflicting ideas, points of view, suggestions, and styles, and as parents, it is up to us to choose which one fits our values, beliefs, and physical and mental ability to comply. Co-sleep/don't co-sleep, let cry/don't let cry, spank/don't spank, let siblings fight/don't let them fight, potty train by age 2/potty train when they are ready, eat only organic/fine, eat some Cheetos ever now and then. Sheesh! If there were ever an area of life to which the widely known saying 'more than one way to skin a cat' is applicable, it would be to the daunting, yet ever so critical role of parenting.
However, there is one area in which all books actually agree. Across the board, they will all say that 'consistency' is key. It is crucial. It is do or die. Not one book that I've read, and trust me, my library of this child psychology/parenting stuff is cluttering my existence these days, but not a single one says, "whatever you do, don't do it consistently."
Well, duh. You would think, right? Once it is no longer broken, why re-fix it? Well, because we are exhausted, overwhelmed, mentally and physically drained parents and sometimes our kids just simply have more energy than we do. Simple enough. But unfortunately, no one wins that battle.
My husband and I have struggled to get a bedtime routine that works for years. We have fours kids of varying ages, which definitely deepens the cavern of nighttime despair, but we still slave away at a strategy that will finally be 'the one'. I've read many sleep books that vary in beliefs, from Three in a Bed to Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child to much harsher 'let them cry' philosophies. I am not sure how many times we have had a fairly successful evening at bedtime and as we plopped into bed, not even up to brushing our own teeth, and said, "Okay, that worked. Let's stick to that." But then the next night, something comes up, and one kid is on strike to brush teeth or put on pajamas, or they want juice, or water, or to build a fort, or show us their new gymnastics move that we have to see right that minute, and by the time we say 'no' a million times, it's late, we're tired, and we totally shift the routine so we can 'just survive' the night. Then we decide we are tired of being tired so just forget it, let the kid rule the dang household for all we care!
Well, it always backfires, and we'll have to wade through a few nights of deep waters until we find the shallow end again, but then we flop onto the bed, barely able to move our limbs, and say, "Okay, this time, really, we are sticking to it." Urch! Not so fast. If there is one thing we are good at, it is that we are consistent at being inconsistent.
I wish inconsistency was the 'new black', but it's out and has been forever as far as child-rearing is concerned. There is around-the-world agreement that kids thrive on routine and boundaries. And when raised with both of these, they have the best chance of turning out to be responsible, compentent adults.
So, we continue to work hard each day to keep as much routine as possible to their well, routines. And we're totally spent, tired, exhausted, bleary-eyed parents. But one day, maybe when we're 90, we'll rest easy. Just maybe if we can continue to just give our best effort at consistency, not even perfection, just effort, then maybe even as soon as 20 years from now, we can sit back and enjoy that foreign concept called 'relaxing', and reap the rewards of our exhausting hard work.
However, there is one area in which all books actually agree. Across the board, they will all say that 'consistency' is key. It is crucial. It is do or die. Not one book that I've read, and trust me, my library of this child psychology/parenting stuff is cluttering my existence these days, but not a single one says, "whatever you do, don't do it consistently."
Well, duh. You would think, right? Once it is no longer broken, why re-fix it? Well, because we are exhausted, overwhelmed, mentally and physically drained parents and sometimes our kids just simply have more energy than we do. Simple enough. But unfortunately, no one wins that battle.
My husband and I have struggled to get a bedtime routine that works for years. We have fours kids of varying ages, which definitely deepens the cavern of nighttime despair, but we still slave away at a strategy that will finally be 'the one'. I've read many sleep books that vary in beliefs, from Three in a Bed to Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child to much harsher 'let them cry' philosophies. I am not sure how many times we have had a fairly successful evening at bedtime and as we plopped into bed, not even up to brushing our own teeth, and said, "Okay, that worked. Let's stick to that." But then the next night, something comes up, and one kid is on strike to brush teeth or put on pajamas, or they want juice, or water, or to build a fort, or show us their new gymnastics move that we have to see right that minute, and by the time we say 'no' a million times, it's late, we're tired, and we totally shift the routine so we can 'just survive' the night. Then we decide we are tired of being tired so just forget it, let the kid rule the dang household for all we care!
Well, it always backfires, and we'll have to wade through a few nights of deep waters until we find the shallow end again, but then we flop onto the bed, barely able to move our limbs, and say, "Okay, this time, really, we are sticking to it." Urch! Not so fast. If there is one thing we are good at, it is that we are consistent at being inconsistent.
I wish inconsistency was the 'new black', but it's out and has been forever as far as child-rearing is concerned. There is around-the-world agreement that kids thrive on routine and boundaries. And when raised with both of these, they have the best chance of turning out to be responsible, compentent adults.
So, we continue to work hard each day to keep as much routine as possible to their well, routines. And we're totally spent, tired, exhausted, bleary-eyed parents. But one day, maybe when we're 90, we'll rest easy. Just maybe if we can continue to just give our best effort at consistency, not even perfection, just effort, then maybe even as soon as 20 years from now, we can sit back and enjoy that foreign concept called 'relaxing', and reap the rewards of our exhausting hard work.
How We Bring Our Children Into This World.
In leiu of my birthday this week, it got me thinking about, well, birth.
I didn't give much thought to child development, behavior, and psychology until I had one growing inside of me. But four kids later, I can't help but wonder how much of their development, behaviors, and psychology is determined by how we bring them into this world. How much do the choices we make for them in the beginning affect how they turn out in the end?
Well, there's no doubt that this is a very deep, complex, comprehensive topic full of scientific research and statistics. For example, if you look up 'Natural Childbirth' on Wiki, you can find stats like, "A recent study revealed the rates of medical intervention in childbirth in the U.S. found that 93% of mothers used electronic fetal monitoring; 63% used epidurals; 55% had their membranes ruptured; 53% received oxytocin to stimulate labor progress; and 52% received episiotomies." And then you can say, great, but how did these women feel their choice impacted the future of their child? And, how are those kids doing now. Well, there are a gazillion of online communities that have another gazillion differing opinions on that subject. And let's face it, most kids who came into this world by a calm, drugged-up mother are just potentially brilliant as the one who was pushed out with momma on her hands and knees, wailing in pain, flailing her arms and legs in utter disillusion, and screaming for God to just 'take her now'.
At www.givingbirthnaturally.com, they offer up all the reasons, that are stated as factual and not opinion, why I chose to have my first baby naturally. I was in a hospital, but I received no medical intervention. Check it out at http://www.givingbirthnaturally.com/birthing.html. They say at the bottom of the page that they hope these facts are disturbing. Well, of course they are, but so is the hair that grows out of my mole that I don't see for about a month. We get a little overcome by all that is going on in our lives that we miss the details every now and then, even on the truly important things. Not to mention that some of us are just wimps.
So rather than get into all that, let's just discuss it from how we mothers, on a day-to-day reality-check basis, must deal with our children's arrival, and the thereafter. Let's find where the grass is greener when it comes to that crucial moment of saying hello to that human being that you suddenly love more than anything else in the whole world, and knowing that everything you just did in the process has an everlasting effect.
I will do so by giving personal examples.
My first child, as I mentioned before, was a natural birth. Not a home birth, but one free of drugs, tools, and machines. Just me and the hands of my midwife. I was the woman described earlier. You could hear me for miles. I'm pretty sure I saw one nurse covering her ears. My daughter faught my urges for her to enter this world, getting a shoulder stuck and just hanging out when I was at a 10. She took her sweet time. She wanted to come into this world perfect; and what do you know, afterwards all everyone could comfort me with, despite all my pain and misery and exhaustion, was that I had a TEXTBOOK labor. Well, woohoo.
To this day, her teacher's say she takes such time and caution with her work. She can navigate any situation with ease, stay in the driver's seat, and doesn't feel the pressure to be hurried. She is a perfectionist, and will work through her frustration to get it right. Yet she is compassionate, and kind. When it comes to the supposed myths of birth order of the first child and the type A personality, she's textbook.
The second time around, I didn't want to go all nat-u-ral, but I couldn't convince myself to do the epidural. So I labored for hours and hours and finally got the intrathecal; just a spinal block. Ahhhhhhhhhh! Baby came three hours later. It had worn off then, so the end had a bit of a bite to it, but at least I had some relief prior to it, a calm before the storm.
This child has a compassion and sweetness undefined, and many comment about her being 'an old person in a young person's body." However, she is not passive. You mess with her or her friends and family and she 'bites' back. Hmmmm.
Number three. Okay, I must admit, I just wanted to be reading people magazine and, boom, out pops the babe. So I got the epidural. But surprise, surprise, it didn't work. So my right leg was high as a kite but my birth canal was on fire. The epidural didn't cooperate, and guess what, neither does my third child. But she's still precious and only three years old, so let's just call her 'spirited'.
Here we come to the euphoric ending. My fourth. My only boy. This time, I was reading People magazine, and my midwife came to check me and said, "oh, well there's a head". Peaceful. Easy. Lovely. Quiet. Instantly breastfed with ease. And at 5-months old, he is still all of these things. Thank you, God!
So, in regards to point #1, does our childbirth choice affect our babies. I'd have to say yes, it does. For point #2, where is the grass greener in childbirth choices, I'd still have to say that it's debatable and personal, but for me, and remember, I'm a wimp, the fourth time was a charm. And despite four totally different birth experiences, I have four charming children.
I didn't give much thought to child development, behavior, and psychology until I had one growing inside of me. But four kids later, I can't help but wonder how much of their development, behaviors, and psychology is determined by how we bring them into this world. How much do the choices we make for them in the beginning affect how they turn out in the end?
Well, there's no doubt that this is a very deep, complex, comprehensive topic full of scientific research and statistics. For example, if you look up 'Natural Childbirth' on Wiki, you can find stats like, "A recent study revealed the rates of medical intervention in childbirth in the U.S. found that 93% of mothers used electronic fetal monitoring; 63% used epidurals; 55% had their membranes ruptured; 53% received oxytocin to stimulate labor progress; and 52% received episiotomies." And then you can say, great, but how did these women feel their choice impacted the future of their child? And, how are those kids doing now. Well, there are a gazillion of online communities that have another gazillion differing opinions on that subject. And let's face it, most kids who came into this world by a calm, drugged-up mother are just potentially brilliant as the one who was pushed out with momma on her hands and knees, wailing in pain, flailing her arms and legs in utter disillusion, and screaming for God to just 'take her now'.
At www.givingbirthnaturally.com, they offer up all the reasons, that are stated as factual and not opinion, why I chose to have my first baby naturally. I was in a hospital, but I received no medical intervention. Check it out at http://www.givingbirthnaturally.com/birthing.html. They say at the bottom of the page that they hope these facts are disturbing. Well, of course they are, but so is the hair that grows out of my mole that I don't see for about a month. We get a little overcome by all that is going on in our lives that we miss the details every now and then, even on the truly important things. Not to mention that some of us are just wimps.
So rather than get into all that, let's just discuss it from how we mothers, on a day-to-day reality-check basis, must deal with our children's arrival, and the thereafter. Let's find where the grass is greener when it comes to that crucial moment of saying hello to that human being that you suddenly love more than anything else in the whole world, and knowing that everything you just did in the process has an everlasting effect.
I will do so by giving personal examples.
My first child, as I mentioned before, was a natural birth. Not a home birth, but one free of drugs, tools, and machines. Just me and the hands of my midwife. I was the woman described earlier. You could hear me for miles. I'm pretty sure I saw one nurse covering her ears. My daughter faught my urges for her to enter this world, getting a shoulder stuck and just hanging out when I was at a 10. She took her sweet time. She wanted to come into this world perfect; and what do you know, afterwards all everyone could comfort me with, despite all my pain and misery and exhaustion, was that I had a TEXTBOOK labor. Well, woohoo.
To this day, her teacher's say she takes such time and caution with her work. She can navigate any situation with ease, stay in the driver's seat, and doesn't feel the pressure to be hurried. She is a perfectionist, and will work through her frustration to get it right. Yet she is compassionate, and kind. When it comes to the supposed myths of birth order of the first child and the type A personality, she's textbook.
The second time around, I didn't want to go all nat-u-ral, but I couldn't convince myself to do the epidural. So I labored for hours and hours and finally got the intrathecal; just a spinal block. Ahhhhhhhhhh! Baby came three hours later. It had worn off then, so the end had a bit of a bite to it, but at least I had some relief prior to it, a calm before the storm.
This child has a compassion and sweetness undefined, and many comment about her being 'an old person in a young person's body." However, she is not passive. You mess with her or her friends and family and she 'bites' back. Hmmmm.
Number three. Okay, I must admit, I just wanted to be reading people magazine and, boom, out pops the babe. So I got the epidural. But surprise, surprise, it didn't work. So my right leg was high as a kite but my birth canal was on fire. The epidural didn't cooperate, and guess what, neither does my third child. But she's still precious and only three years old, so let's just call her 'spirited'.
Here we come to the euphoric ending. My fourth. My only boy. This time, I was reading People magazine, and my midwife came to check me and said, "oh, well there's a head". Peaceful. Easy. Lovely. Quiet. Instantly breastfed with ease. And at 5-months old, he is still all of these things. Thank you, God!
So, in regards to point #1, does our childbirth choice affect our babies. I'd have to say yes, it does. For point #2, where is the grass greener in childbirth choices, I'd still have to say that it's debatable and personal, but for me, and remember, I'm a wimp, the fourth time was a charm. And despite four totally different birth experiences, I have four charming children.
The Birthday Bash at 38.
Boy, have birthdays changed. If you've read Koren Zailckas's book Smashed, then you'll get the idea of how I spent my birthdays from about age 18-28. Horrifying! Last Saturday night was much more like it.
Even a few years ago, I felt like having a night out with as many girls as possible, swigging IPAs and staying out late enough so that my husband had to put the kids (and himself) to bed was the perfectly manicured lawn of birthday parties. But I think I finally stumbled upon my grassiest birthday.
Last Saturday night, a friend and I had decided to finally try to get together and do a craft project we had been discussing for 18 months. I pondered a babysitter to watch the kids so we could have focused 'adult time', but decided to invite my mom too, who ensures that my crafts don't look like my 2-year-old did it, and also she was watching my niece and nephew that night so it's always fun to have them over to play with my kids. It was all set and then I ran into a neighbor, a single mom with one boy about the age of my oldest, and offered for them to join us.
Well, after we four women devoured two bottles of wine, it was project time. The kids were happily fueled up on pizza and sprite, wrecking havoc on our upstairs, which at the time I had completely blocked out from my conscious.
The two year old was the first to discover our project. We were doing decopauge, which involves glue, water, and basically equals a total nightmare for anyone ages 3 and under. Pretty soon, my toddler was in my lap, holding my paintbrush, glue in her hair and mine, my decopauge all wrinkled and ripped, and when it was finished, she held up the wine-corkboard we co-created and said, "It's so beautiful!" How could she NOT be right?! By now, all of the other kids were on top of each other around our kitchen table, grabbing everything from our craft drawers and inspiring one another's creativity, making everything from bunny rabbits to indian headbands.
So much for adult time.
Now I will never forget my 38th birthday, when I laughed harder than all the rest combined, and ended up with a 'beautiful' joint project that will forever mark a unique moment in the relationship between my sweet little toddler and me.
I also gained a new nickname. Before Caitlin decided to be my decoapuge assistant, I was already halfway though gluing on the wine corks before my friend even finished one side of her frame in decopauge. Of course, this was because she admitted to her obsessive-compulsiveness and how it had to be perfect. I commented that I don't have time for perfect, so when it comes to things like this, I alwasy just 'bust it out.' My hilarious neighbor yelled out, 'BIO, that's totally you'. My new nickname. It's perfect, BIO is my BIO, because with four kids, I have no time to write a BIO. That's my life, I'm just busting it out.
Everyone left by 10:30, which was already one and one-half hour past my bedtime, but my sweet mom had cleaned up my kitchen and my kids were dragging me to bed with them.
So what do you think? Is your birthday party grass greener with or without kids?
The only gifts I received were the laughter and joy of being with a couple of friends, my mom, and my husband and kids. That beats the gift of a hangover anyday.
Cloth vs. Disposable
Ok. So there is really no question as to what is obviously greener, in environmental terms, anyway. But this blog wants to know where the grass is greener for the mama.
I must admit that I have most likely contributed about 500,000 diapers to the landfills. Ignorance is responsible for my first two babies, and pure laziness for our third. But now, thanks to the unintended motivation by a friend, I've joined the cloth wagon. And it's fabulous. First of all, you can save $15o0 to $2000 in diapers over the life of the average need for them. That is green mama point #1.
Then, of course, we can feel good about our contribution to the environment. But what are the other reasons? Trendy? Cute diaper covers? Better for baby's bottom? You tell me. I say all of the above. I'm not even going to begin to go back and figure out how much money we could have saved by going cloth from the start. Pretty sure it's enough to have put at least one of our four through college.
It could be recent findings about disposables, like this one I found on the website of Nicki's Diapers, that read: "Disposable diapers could be the cause of the sharp rise in male infertility over the past 25 years, according to an authoritative scientific study..." Wow. Don't know about you but I be wantin' me some grandbabbies---someday---my boy is 5 months old.
But if it really is that you're an authentic tree hugger, then these outrageous statistics should be enough: one baby can produce 2 tons of landfill waste, there is serious threat contamination due to human waste spilling over from landfills, and diapers can take 500 years to decompose. That is like when, your great, great, great, great grandboy walks this earth; but who knows, by then they will probably have diapers made out of renewable bamboo, that change themselves and disappear into thin air.
And then of course, it really is about the trees; each baby in disposables consumes 4.5 trees in their life in diapers (all this info also from Nicki's diapers website.)
We do still use a disposable at night. Mostly because I am one-eyed cocked tired at 12am and 4am when I feed the little man, and if I had to change a diaper, it might end up on his head. Some day care facilities do not allow cloth. Our preschool does not do cloth, the ski mountain day care was more than happy to, but the healthclub was a no-no. I don't blame them; a blow-out in cloth diapers can take over the whole diaper changing station. While it takes some getting use to, I say cloth is greener grasses. It's way easier than it seems, despite its intimidating prowl. Once you run a load and accept the smell of lavendery-urine as your laundry room scent, you're good to go, and one more step for the planet and your wallet.
I must admit that I have most likely contributed about 500,000 diapers to the landfills. Ignorance is responsible for my first two babies, and pure laziness for our third. But now, thanks to the unintended motivation by a friend, I've joined the cloth wagon. And it's fabulous. First of all, you can save $15o0 to $2000 in diapers over the life of the average need for them. That is green mama point #1.
Then, of course, we can feel good about our contribution to the environment. But what are the other reasons? Trendy? Cute diaper covers? Better for baby's bottom? You tell me. I say all of the above. I'm not even going to begin to go back and figure out how much money we could have saved by going cloth from the start. Pretty sure it's enough to have put at least one of our four through college.
It could be recent findings about disposables, like this one I found on the website of Nicki's Diapers, that read: "Disposable diapers could be the cause of the sharp rise in male infertility over the past 25 years, according to an authoritative scientific study..." Wow. Don't know about you but I be wantin' me some grandbabbies---someday---my boy is 5 months old.
But if it really is that you're an authentic tree hugger, then these outrageous statistics should be enough: one baby can produce 2 tons of landfill waste, there is serious threat contamination due to human waste spilling over from landfills, and diapers can take 500 years to decompose. That is like when, your great, great, great, great grandboy walks this earth; but who knows, by then they will probably have diapers made out of renewable bamboo, that change themselves and disappear into thin air.
And then of course, it really is about the trees; each baby in disposables consumes 4.5 trees in their life in diapers (all this info also from Nicki's diapers website.)
We do still use a disposable at night. Mostly because I am one-eyed cocked tired at 12am and 4am when I feed the little man, and if I had to change a diaper, it might end up on his head. Some day care facilities do not allow cloth. Our preschool does not do cloth, the ski mountain day care was more than happy to, but the healthclub was a no-no. I don't blame them; a blow-out in cloth diapers can take over the whole diaper changing station. While it takes some getting use to, I say cloth is greener grasses. It's way easier than it seems, despite its intimidating prowl. Once you run a load and accept the smell of lavendery-urine as your laundry room scent, you're good to go, and one more step for the planet and your wallet.
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