Belated Wordless Wednesday - Chocolate + Car = Rookie Mistake

I am f&*king lame

I am.

I just read 64 reviews of steam mops.  Which, in and of itself, is pretty goddamned lame, but then I ran across this.  I totally want one.  I was so excited about it that I even emailed it to my husband.

Now he probably thinks I'm lame, too.

I need another hobby apparently.  Not saying that my hobby is mopping floors, 'cause it's certainly not.  My floors are in desperate need of mopping, and I don't mean that in any metaphoric sense, I just mean that seriously, my floors like crunch when you walk on them right now.

Maybe I should actually you know, mop, instead of just reading reviews by people who do.

Yeah, I'll get on that now.

Children of the Cloth*

There are whole blogs devoted to cloth diapering.  Really.  Whole blogs.  And yes, I have subscribed to some of them.  Why?  Well, anybody who reads this blog (all 2? of you--hi!) knows that I do cloth diaper my babies, and have for quite some time.  I thought that these blogs might have some useful tips and/or tricks**, but really, they don't.  They do have product reviews, which could be nice if you're in the market for new cloth diapers.  But mostly it's just OHMYGODMYCLOTHDIAPERSARESOFREAKINGCUTE wanking.

Over diapers.
You know, the things babies shit in and you have to either wash or throw away.
Yeah, those.

I mean yeah, they're cute and all, and maybe it's me who's weird, but I just can't get all worked up over them.  In my mind they're for befouling, not for mixing, matching and obsessing over.  Yeah, occasionally I know that Maggie's diaper is going to be visible underneath a dress, and I might choose a diaper or cover that kind of matches, but I certainly don't go out of my way to do it.  I have one of the simpler diaper stashes*** around.  Basically two kinds, and 3 colors.  And I see absolutely no reason to go beyond that.  For me, cloth diapering was about simplifying my life, spending less money and maybe, just maybe leaving a slightly smaller footprint than one normally does with three kids.

But for some people that's not so true.  There seems to be a whole subculture of people who have made cloth diapering a hobby.  They're willing to spend hundreds, even thousands of dollars on a huge stash of diapers in different prints and colors.  One company**** has really cashed in on this and offers limited edition diapers that go for $25-$35 dollars.  These things get wait-listed.  Waist-listed, people, for diapers.

Now don't get me wrong, if you have the money, and you want to spend it this way, more power to you.  There are far worse things to collect (and let's face it, that's what you're doing at this point--collecting) than cloth diapers (Precious Moments figurines come to mind).  But I think that these types of blogs and cloth diaperers (not a word, I know--stop judging me) do a disservice to cloth diapering.  When I first went searching for advice I was completely overwhelmed by what seemed to be an endless supply of options.  Expensive options.  These women own a lot of fucking diapers (a shitload?).  I was looking to save money, not spend it.

Fortunately there are a couple of forums out there that have reasonable advice from average everyday cloth diapering families.  Using a lot of this information I was able to put a very reasonable (boring) stash together for relatively little money.  There is really noo need for a ton of diapers, 'cause no matter how many you have you've still got to wash them pretty often 'cause people shit in them.  No need for fancy either, just soft and absorbent.  If this type of information were more available to the average "cloth diaper" google-er that more people might try it (I'm going to assume that a person who's gone out of his/her way to actually google cloth diapers has already gone beyond the OMG there's poop factor).  And that's not a bad thing.


*This is a bad reference to Children of the Corn.  No, I don't usually compare that movie to my kids' diapers, but I was also thinking that it feels like early fall today and that soon it would be time to watch that movie.  I watch it every year in the fall.

**There can definitely be tips/tricks involved in cloth diapering.  Yes, I do realize that the mechanics behind it are crazy simple.  Insert cloth, shit, remove, wash, repeat.  But, there can be washing issues, fabric issues, putting them on issues, etc.  Unfortunately the typical cloth diaper blog answer to these questions involves buying more stuff that you can only get from online companies.

***Stash in this case does not refer to the same thing it did when we were in college.  Amongst the mommy spends too much money circles (cloth diaperers, babywearers) it also refers to your collection of cloth diapers or baby carriers.  I don't know how that term came into use.  I have theories.  I'd go into them, but my son is climbing on the counter.

****Yes, I know they're handmade with organic fabric by WAHMs (work at home moms) who get a living wage, etc.  But I don't care.  Let those bitches go to Tot Lot and make silly blogs like the rest of us.

Plastic Bags and Chewing Gum

On Monday we went to the co-op.  The Iowa City one.  Definitely not the one in Coralville.  Still can't bring myself to re-visit the scene of that crime.  Well, they also don't carry what I was planning on buying.  It was a pretty enjoyable trip on the whole, kids were good, found what we needed, etc.  Oh, and I got a Blue Sky soda.  I know I've mentioned my Blue Sky love before.  Unfortunately I committed one of the larger co-op faux pas.  I forgot to bring my own bag.

I'm really not a wasteful, terrible person who wants to paper our earth with little plastic bags of death or anything.  I did have a nice reusable bag with me that I intended to use.  I just forgot it in the car because I spent so much time trying to get everything else all NewPi ready, which is quite a process with three kids in tow.

First, I rearranged the clothes on the two younger ones so that a good chunk of cloth diaper was sticking out.  That way everyone would know that I totally love earth and am trying not to overflow our landfills.  Then I made sure to put not one, but two children into carriers, one on back, one on front.  No stroller for me in the co-op, I made that mistake once.  Nobody likes a NAV* in the co-op, somewhat understandably as it does have small aisles. I then talked Molly out of bringing a Disney Princess Barbie with us.  Too bad I don't have any Waldorf dolls to use as props.  And lastly, I pulled my faux leather wallet out of my real leather purse so as not to offend any wandering Vegans.  And then I forgot the reusable bag.

I was so ashamed at the check-out counter when he asked if I needed to purchase a plastic bag.  When I told him that I had forgotten mine in the car he so didn't believe me!  There was a bit of an eyeroll.  But he wasn't so bad.  It was the older woman behind me.  She totally gave me a 'bitch, I know you club baby seals while shamelessly spraying Aqua Net' look.  It's just a bag.  One bag.  That I've reused already.  Twice (well, the last use was as a garbage bag--does that count?).  Besides, I have two kids in cloth diapers.  I've built up some environmental karma (that I totally squander by being a terrible recycler--I plan on changing that, really, I do).

Then we skulked out of there with our plastic bag of shame.  Somewhere between the door of the co-op and our car (about 30 feet) my daughter found a prize.  She tucked it away in her hand and waited until I was on the other side of the car, getting her brother into his car seat to pull it out.  Pretty clever plan on the whole.  Except for the I have a sense of smell part.  Because even though the gum she found was already chewed, it was still quite fragrant having sat in the hot sun for who the hell knows how long.  That was awesome.

*NAV = Natal Assault Vehicle

Puddle Jumping

I stepped in a puddle the other day.  Doesn't sound like a big deal, does it?  Except that this puddle was at the Tot Lot in a gymnasium filled with toddlers and preschoolers.  I was giving the kids their we're going to leave in 10 minutes warning, felt something splash on my toes, looked down and found my Reef flip-flops totally surrounded by liquid.  Mystery liquid.  In a room with toddlers.

Be proud of me, I didn't say what I was thinking, which involved a lot of not-so-nice words, including one or two that start with "mother" but don't end on such a pleasant note. I shuddered, calmly walked back to my stuff and wiped my foot off.  Then I grabbed the kids (screw their 10 minutes) and went home where I could scrub my foot in the comfort of my own bathroom. 

Overreaction much?  Yeah, probably.  I know it was likely water from somebody's sippy cup.  I know it wasn't juice, because it wasn't sticky.  But there is still the possibility that it may have been urine.  Toddler urine.  From a toddler that is not mine.  I get the chills just thinking about it.  I find pee disgusting.  Worse than poop for me.  I know, I have my own kids, I must see quite a bit of toddler urine and I do, but I deal with the pee from my own kids 'cause I love them and we share DNA and stuff.  I can even deal with pee from kids I know if I have some advance warning, but stranger pee* crosses the line for me. 

Also, who the hell spills (bio- or otherwise) stuff all over the gym floor and then doesn't clean it up.  They're pretty lenient about food and drinks at that tot lot (as opposed to Coralville, where the woman in spiked heels crossed the gym floor just to tell my kid to put the raisin box away), so come on, clean your damn spills up.

And speaking of urine, I need to go wash diapers.


*I wonder if the phrase "stranger pee" will get me any kink-search hits.

Can I have a hall pass?

I haven't meant to abandon this blog, I've just haven't used my laptop much this week.  Partially because it's not holding a charge much, but mostly because I'm cheating on it with my new phone.  In theory, I could blog from my phone, but I'm not a great writer, so I tend to edit a lot (no, really).  That would just get tedious on a wee screen.

But anyway, I've discovered I have a problem.  I probably have a lot of problems, but I have one immediate one that's been on my mind quite a bit lately.  It's silly, it's very silly, and you're going to think I'm insane, but nonetheless, it's been bugging me, so I'm going to share it with you.

I can't pee.  No, I'm not sharing some weird intimate health secret with you, and it's not that I can't pee, 'cause I can, it's that I can't find a good time to do so.  And it's only when we're out and about, not at home, believe me, my mama-martyr flag doesn't fly quite that high (oh noes, I'm so busy, I can't even pee).  Basically it boils down to a problem of logistics.  On the whole I'm pretty good at carting all three kids around, but when it comes to getting all three of us, plus our assorted gear into the bathroom for me to go, I just can't get it done.

Yes, I know the mall has a family bathroom, and I know that handicapped stalls are fantastic for bringing "bathroom helpers" with you, but neither option is working for me.  The reason?  Max.  Max knows how to open all doors.  Having to squat-run, pants around my ankles to shut a bathroom door before any small children or pets are traumatized has gotten tiring.

I used to love the stinky family bathroom at the mall because I could just put the stroller in front of the door and turn on the hand-dryer.  That used to be enough of a distraction.  Well, now Max likes to sit on the little potty and get soaking wet (when he's not climbing the stroller to get to the door).  Having to follow up a trip to the bathroom with a run to Target to buy new pants can get a little expensive.
 
And I won't even go into Molly's running bathroom commentary on volume, fuzziness and who may or may not be pooping in the other stalls.  I've gotten used to that embarrassment and know that I can just hide in the stall a few extra minutes if need be.  Can't do that once people have seen you crab-walk your half-nekkid ass to the open bathroom door.

You're wondering what I've been doing instead of going to the bathroom?  No worries, I haven't been peeing behind bushes or anything, I've just been holding it while we're out.  So, if you see me in public, feel free to offer to watch my kids for a few minutes, 'cause I've probably really gotta go!

Today was a good day*

5 ways in which my day was far more awesome than yours:

1.  I woke up to a grinning, smiley baby snuggled up beside me and coffee already made.
2.  I enjoyed a leisurely picnic lunch in a beautiful park with good friends and good conversation.
3.  Our afternoon snack was ice cream at the mall (in front of 30 kids from Diabetic Camp. Really).
4.  Afternoon story and cuddle time on the couch with 3 of my favorite people.
5.  Taco Pizza from Happy Joe's for dinner.

3 ways in which your day was head and shoulders above mine:

1.  You probably didn't have to wash spit up out of your hair.  Or out of your baby's eyelashes.  And I won't even go into what I saw the dog do with the spit up on the floor.
2.  You probably don't have sand in your bra from the sandbox at the park.
3.  You probably didn't inadvertently pick up a large "piece of lint" from the bathroom floor that was less linty and more feculent than expected.



*I am completely unable to say or think the phrase "Today was a good day" without tacking on "I didn't even have to use my A.K."  I don't think I'm the only one.

Naked Ladies

Molly had daily swimming lessons the last couple of weeks.  At 9 in the morning.  That meant that I loaded up all three kids, swimming gear, plus any additional gear/meals we would need for any play dates we had afterward.  It went a hell of a lot better than you might think.  I take a really crazy amount of pride in saying that in the two weeks she had class we were always there and we were never late.


One of these mornings we go to the locker room after Molly has showered.  The locker room is completely filled with naked old women.  Seriously.  Very naked, very old women.  I'd like to know the exact hormone cocktail I need to take when I hit menopause to avoid the desire to be tits out naked in public.  It's apparently some primal urge that begins in toddlerhood, rears its head at frat parties or around Girls Gone Wild cameras, then returns, full force at about 50, unleashing itself upon innocent locker rooms all over the country.

But anyway, Molly stands up on one of the benches in the locker room (which she's not supposed to do) and promptly tumbles off.  She immediately laughs and stands up, so I know she's not been mortally wounded.  She then proceeds to dance around and dawdle, and gawk at the naked women. At this point I turn into the annoying hurry up mommy, and prod her to move it along as we were going to be meeting friends in the park.

One of the naked women decides to tell me that I need to relax and just enjoy my kids while they're young, they won't be that way forever, etc.  I just nodded and smiled, thinking that it was a nice sentiment, that she was just being friendly.  But as I thought about the incident later I started to get a little annoyed.  I mean here I am, standing in a hot, humid locker room, two kids strapped to my body, surrounded my oddly hairless naked old women.  I think I've earned the right to be a little impatient with my dawdling, gawking daughter.  Especially since I know that within 10 minutes of Molly getting dressed and out of the locker room that we will be at the park, enjoying a gorgeous day with good friends. 

Not to mention the fact that I do enjoy my children.  That's why I kept having them, and that's why my husband and I worked so hard so that I can stay home with them.  I am keenly aware that time is fleeting and that they won't be small and cuddly forever.  Eventually they will go to school and play sports and join clubs and do all sorts of things that don't involve me.  But for now we will continue to do fun things together, like go to the park, visit the library, make cookies and explore the museum.  Not on the list of awesome?  Being cooped up in a steamy locker room, listening to naked old women bitch at us.

Spills

Spills I have cleaned up today:

1. Milk
2. Spit up
3. Shit - Max has mastered the art of unsnapping his diaper.
4. Maggie - Either Molly is lying to me or Maggie has learned to leap from her swing. In her sleep.

Dine-n-dash

I absolutely refuse to kiss my son today. He has spent a large chunk of the morning attempting to (and quite often succeeding-bad mommy) eat from the garbage.

Screw you to all that mock me when I say having a dog is good practice for having a kid.