No, I don't drive one of these and squawk about how the country is finally heading in the right direction.
I have ventured... into...
I can just imagine what my Mom is thinking as she reads that. "Why would you do this? Where did I go wrong?"
I don't know, Mom. But it was obviously in a major way, wasn't it?
Because really, cloth diapers go against many of the things I believe in. I have invested much effort into thinking of ways to make my life easier and avoid contact with poop as much as possible.
But in truth, I have been a cloth diaper (CD) wanna-be for months. I don't know exactly how it started. On the parenting forum I visit, I would lurk at the CD posts, envying their excitement over snagging a new style or print. I couldn't imagine being that excited about diaper changes... but I kinda wanted to be. These are not your grandma's cloth diapers, my friends. The sheer amount of variety and adorability out there is mind-blowing. In fact, I think I stayed away so long because I was daunted by all those terms and acronyms to learn. AIO? Soakers? PUL? Doublers? Pocket diapers? Snappis? PB&E? Is this like the Star Trek language?
I told myself that I would give the cloth a shot when we have another baby. It's too late to make the switch now, I thought. But recently, one of the preschool moms (whose son is older than Bean) went to cloth, and she assured me it's worth it. And then what finally pushed me over the edge: What if I never do have another baby? Can I live the rest of my entire life knowing that I had never covered a tiny butt in a cloth diaper?
So on Monday, the Bean and I grabbed our ring sling and drove into Seattle to the gorgeous new location of Birth & Beyond. I had already gotten advice on a good diaper for
Upon returning home, I spent the next 24 hours washing them, admiring them, arranging them, taking pictures of them, posting the pictures on the CD forum, and congratulating myself on being so healthy, earth conscious, and financially responsible.
Then it was time to actually use them.
I put Bean on the changing table and grabbed the diaper and insert. He grinned up at me gamely. I frowned, looking at the snaps and velcro. I decided I was a little too hasty in putting him on the changing table before I had figured out the diaper, so I put my nakey boy in his crib to play while I worked it out. Luck was on my side -- it was pretty easy to figure out, and Bean didn't use the crib as his own personal urinal.
I snapped the diaper to the size I thought would fit him best and slid in the insert. I waited for a round of applause or balloons to fall from the ceiling to know I did it right, but nothing was forthcoming. After putting Bean back on the table and securing the diaper in place, I stood back to examine my handiwork. I was pleased with myself, but Bean was still skeptical about this whole deal.
I put him down on the floor and let him move around in it. His verdict: "I rock this thing!" And mama agrees.
The pooch sniffed Bean's butt to bestow her own approval.
"What are we going to do with these 'sposies now, Mom?" (That's what we cloth diaperers call them. 'Sposies. We are cool like that.)
In addition to saving the world, another benefit of the cloth is that they make his butt huge. Which means 1) his 12-month pants now fit him better and 2) he looks more like his mom.
Now I am on a quest to build my "stash" of cute fluffies. I've already had my first heartbreak. I was stalking the CUTEST DIAPER EVER by Bagshot Row Bamboo (that's BSRB for those of us in the know), anxiously counting down to when the Jungle Friends print would be on sale in their online store. Screen refresh. Screen refresh. Finally, it was time. My spirit was crushed to see it sold out in less than 5 seconds.
Okay, I can see this is going to be an addiction.
And I'm going to have to get a little nasty.
I know at least one of my friends uses cloth -- Sarah! Who else? Any tips for a newbie?