Doing Away With Diapers (I Wish)

The Diaper Free Baby by Christine Gross-Loh
Grade: C+

When I was expecting my first child, I had this notion that I was going to use cloth diapers for my son. Well, that was a great idea, except that the “hot” water going into our washing machine barely qualified as warm, and we can’t use bleach because it reacts with the metals in our well water (not to mention that it’s bad for the septic system). How do you get soiled diapers clean without hot water or bleach? I don’t think you can.

My next thought was that we’d get a diaper service. That was also a great idea, except that there’s not a single diaper service in the whole state of Rhode Island. Apparently, everyone here uses disposable diapers now. Everyone. Good for them, bad for the planet. Oh, well.

The lack of hot water for the wash was a serious problem, though. We couldn’t even get our towels clean without it, so we bought a special water heater. To use the heater, we had to upgrade our electrical service, and that was expensive. So it was a good thing that we were going to use cloth diapers for our second child, and thereby save some money, right? Except that we’d gotten used to the disposables. It was painful just to contemplate switching to cloth. We already had enough laundry to do without adding piles of reeking diapers. Even if I could have guilted myself into it, I knew there was no way I’d convince my husband. Sorry, planet.

But then one day it hit me: what do they do in Asia? I mean, they can’t afford disposables, and they don’t have the water resources to handle all the laundering. So what do they do? I looked it up on the Internet and it turns out that they toilet train their babies. They literally teach their kids to pee and poop on command. Supposedly everyone on earth used to train their kids that way, but we in the West have lost the technique.

“Awesome,” I thought to myself. “I want to do that! Imagine if I could get both kids toilet trained right now! Fantastic!”

And that is the story of why I borrowed The Diaper Free Baby from the library. It was supposed to solve my problem by giving me an environmentally friendly and relatively easy alternative to disposable diapers. I hoped it would eliminate my guilt, save the planet, and keep a little bit more of my paycheck in my pocket.

But it didn’t.

There are so many problems with this book, I barely know where to start. First, I guess, is the premise. The author tells us that babies have a natural disinclination to soil themselves. Supposedly, babies naturally communicate their wish to eliminate, and we, the parents, can learn to recognize those signals. If we then take our children to a place where they can eliminate comfortably, such as a toilet, and let them do their business while we make a sound, such as a “Psssssst,” the child will associate that sound with the activity. They will then know that hearing “Psssssst” means it’s time to eliminate. This technique is known in America as EC (short for “Elimination Communication”). This sounds reasonable, I think.

But the next part is not so reasonable. EC is an awkward name, and I would actually prefer “toilet training,” but the author insists that the goal is not to toilet train your child, but rather to communicate with your child. That’s so nice and touchy-feely, but not realistic. Parents communicate with their children in a multitude of ways. They don’t need EC  for its communication potential. They need it because their children have to pee and poop somewhere, and they’d rather it was in the toilet!

But let’s accept the author’s premise and the idea that this technique is about communicating with your child, at least while we consider the second major flaw of the book. Another big point that the author makes is that the EC technique can be practiced part-time. She say that you don’t need to EC all day, or at night, or even more than once  per day. So if you’re too busy, or have other things on your mind, or just can’t be bothered, it’s OK.

This is the problem with being inclusive and trying to make everyone feel good, even when they fail. Because if the author is right, and your baby wants you to take her to the potty rather than letting her soil herself, then to ignore her communication signals because you don’t feel like practicing EC right then is downright cruel. And how can you expect her to continue communicating with you if you ignore her half of the time? Talk about a breach of trust!

The third major flaw with the book is the content. I borrowed the book because I had heard of the concept and I wanted someone to teach me the technique. Consequently, I didn’t need to read page after page of reasons why I should try it, but I expected the author to lay out the technique in detailed and orderly steps, something like this:

“First you do this, then you do that, then you do the next thing, and ta-da! You’re baby is now environmentally friendly. Enjoy!”

The author gave information and I got the gist, but she didn’t lay it out in a way that was memorable or easy to follow. She was so concerned with convincing the world to try EC and making the part-timers feel good about their lazy approach that some of the details were either lacking or buried under pages of filler.

This book is due back at the library in a few days. I should have returned it earlier, but I kept thinking I’d go back and look for the steps which must be hidden in there somewhere. Then I could write them down for myself and consider whether the technique could really work for my family. I think it could, and I haven’t completely given up on the idea yet, but I can’t face reading the book again. It’s a shame. I think the people of this country need to relearn this technique, but they need a better resource than this book.

P.S. The subject matter of this book offered many opportunities for cheap, vulgar jokes. I resisted the temptation, but please feel free to make up your own and laugh over them as you please.

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Mother’s Day Memories

To celebrate Mother’s Day to its fullest, here are some wonderful things that my kids have done recently.

Earlier this week, I recorded myself reading Dear Zoo to Marshall. The recorder picked up not only my voice, but also Marshall roaring like a lion, laughing, making monkey noises, and shouting, “Puppy!”

A couple of days ago, I asked Marshall if I could have one of his goldfish crackers. He picked one out of his cup and started to hand it to me, but pulled it back at the last moment and put it in his mouth. I told him that made me sad and asked for another one. This time he gave me the cracker, and after I was done eating it, he offered me another!

Last night, Livia rolled from her back onto her tummy for the first time. She hates being on her tummy, though, Poor Thing. She started crying and I had to go “rescue” her.

This morning, I was preparing to feed Livia and said to my husband, “I need a bib.” Marshall ran out of the room and came back with a bib for her.

Also this morning, my husband was playing a game with Marshall, writing the letters of the alphabet, one at a time, on the “Elmo pad” and asking Marshall to name them. We were both surprised by how many letters he recognizes. He knows almost half of them!

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Watch What You Say!

Poirot says,

Oh, my dear friend, it is impossible not to give oneself away—unless one never opens one’s mouth! Speech is the deadliest of revealers.

from Cards on the Table

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Mother’s Day

I’m beginning to understand why they say that you shouldn’t be judgmental of how other people raise their children. In parenthood as in other aspects of life, what works for other people may not work for you, and vice versa. This can be difficult to understand and accept until, like me, you find yourself on the “wrong” side of a controversial issue.

I believe breast milk is better than formula. I believe all mothers who are physically able to breastfeed should at least try it. I know from experience how difficult it is, how it clashes with a modern lifestyle. But it’s better for your baby, so if you can make it work, you should.

But for some people, it just doesn’t work, no matter how hard they try. And for those mothers like me, heartbroken over their inability to adequately nourish their babies with breast milk, using formula is a painful, but necessary, choice. Babies need food.

I still tear up when I think about it. I wanted so badly to do what was right for my son. But, as I still have to keep reminding myself, I did. “Right” just wasn’t what I had thought it was. After all, what’s more important? Breastfeeding or nourishing your child? Because if breastfeeding isn’t nourishing your child, then it’s not right.

And, oh, the difference it made in our lives when we switched to formula! Our son started gaining weight. He started sleeping more and crying less. My husband took over some of the nighttime feedings and I finally got some sleep. And with sleep, I started to feel human again. Alive. Happy to have a baby. So much better!

Now, when I hear other people criticize those of us who use formula, it just makes me angry. How dare they judge! They weren’t there every night trying desperately to rock a hungry baby back to sleep. They weren’t there to see our son grow thinner and thinner. They weren’t there when our pediatrician said we absolutely needed to give him formula. They weren’t there to see me cry when he gobbled down his first bottle. And they have no business trying to make me feel bad about doing what I had to do.

So today, on this lovely Mother’s Day, while you’re celebrating your awesome mother (or your awesome self, if you are a mother), try to remember also to be more tolerant of those mothers who don’t do things exactly the way you think they should. They have their reasons. And sometimes those reasons are so much righter than you know.

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You Mean Me?

As she worked on my hair, my hairdresser asked me what I was doing for Mother’s Day. I replied, “Oh, nothing much. We’re just sending cards to our mothers.” And she said, “No, I mean for you.”

Duh.

I’m a mother now.

Mother’s Day is about me.

Weird.

I still don’t know what I’m going to do, but whatever it is, it’s going to be relaxing. This mother needs some downtime.

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Brother and Sister

Dear Livia,

It took hours and hours of effort, but I finally got our pictures of Marshall in order and put them into a photo album. I also made an album for you, but there weren’t a lot of photos to go in it. That made me wonder, have we taken fewer pictures of you than we did of your brother?

Probably.

Sorry, Sweetie, but that’s just the way it goes. We have less time for picture-taking now than we did then. You may as well get used to second-hand stuff, too. You’re sleeping in Marshall’s old cradle, riding in his old car seat, relaxing in his old bouncy seat. A lot of your washcloths, towels, blankets, and onesies were his. I hope you like trucks, blocks, and trains, because you’re going to get his old toys. Over the next couple of years, you’re also going to wear a lot of boyish pajamas. And boyish shoes. Just accept it now.

But don’t for a second believe that we love you any less, and never resent that he was first. If anything, you’ve gained by being second. Marshall taught me how to take care of a baby, so by the time you were born, I was prepared. I knew how to handle you. I wasn’t overwhelmed, freaking out, or run ragged. When you came home from the hospital, you were jaundiced and losing weight, just like Marshall had been, but this time I knew what to do. I started supplementing with formula right away. You never had to go hungry, and we never had to stay up all night with you screaming. I was able to enjoy you in a way I didn’t get to do with Marshall.

And you also have the love of a big brother, and you will learn a lot from him. I hope the two of you will always be close. You can be companions and protectors of one another, and have tons of fun together. Yeah. Don’t you know what they call it when brother and sister get along really well? Sibling revelry!

😉

Love,
Mom

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Ticked Off

My husband went for a walk in the woods and then found a deer tick on his pants. I went for a walk in the woods and then found a deer tick on my pants. My father went for an extremely brief walk in the woods and then I spotted a deer tick on his shirt, after he held my baby girl!

Do you sense a theme here?

Ticks! Ticks! Ticks!

After these three incidents, I was starting to get a little paranoid about ticks. So Monday of last week, thinking that it might be good to stay out of our woods for a while, I decided to take my walk at the local nature trail instead. It seemed like it ought to be safer, because all the vegetation is trimmed back away from the trail, which is wide and gravel-covered. After my walk, I went to the grocery store and then home. As I was getting out of the car, guess what I saw? A deer tick on my leg!

I’m ticked off about getting ticked on!

I’m also ticked off about feeling like it’s not safe to take my daily walk. I need my exercise and outdoor time!

I’m also ticked off about having been misinformed about deer ticks. I had been told that they lived on plants and got on you when you brushed by. This is true for adult ticks, but not for the nymphs. I had thought that if I just cleared a path from my house to the trail in the woods, I’d be OK, because then I’d never touch any brush. So there I was, pushing aside mounds of leaves with my feet to better mark my trail. Then I found out that it’s in the leaves that the nymphs live, and they’re the ones to worry about. And I knew that ticks could be small, but I had no idea how tiny the nymphs are (about the size of poppy seeds!)

I’m also ticked off that the symptoms of Lyme disease are so common that there’s no way you’d know you had it unless you got a bull’s-eye rash. Flulike symptoms, headaches, fatigue, joint pain—all of these could be caused by anything, including things like the common cold, lack of sleep, and simply growing older! But if you don’t get diagnosed, the consequences of long-term Lyme infection can be brutal.

I’m also ticked off that the one thing I truly loved about this house (its woodland setting) is now my least favorite thing about it.

I’m also ticked off that there’s so little we can do to protect ourselves. We’ll do our best, but I don’t know if it will be enough. We will work on the yard and try to create a barrier between us and them. We will avoid planting things that deer like and try to plant things that repel them. We will dress appropriately when outside. We will check ourselves for ticks after each outdoor excursion and again at night before bed. We will use a bug spray with picaridin (an alternative to DEET) if we go into the woods. I will ask my doctor and my kids’ pediatrician if we can get routine Lyme disease tests.

There’s little else we can do. We’re just going to have to learn to live with the risk. The world is too beautiful to stay indoors all day, and life is too short to be always fretting over ticks.

But I’m still ticked off.

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All About Your Baby Self

Dear Livia,

Here are some facts and stories about you.

  • The words most often used to describe you are “adorable” and “alert.”
  • When you were a newborn, if you were hungry, you’d try to eat anything that got anywhere near you, including peoples’ faces. We used to joke that you were a face-eating alien.
  • Also when you were a newborn, you frequently frowned and knit your brows together, as if worried. You did this so often that I called you “a natural frowner.” But not anymore. It’s amazing how often you smile now. You’re a joy to be around.
  • You love having your clothes changed. It makes you laugh and smile even more.
  • You have a cute little strawberry mark on your belly.
  • Your lashes are already thicker and longer than mine.
  • You are a social butterfly. At your cousin Colby’s first communion party, you smiled and cooed at everyone who held you. That made you very popular. You even slept like a little angel in your Auntie Jeanne’s arms. You should have seen the look of utter adoration on her face! We were lucky to get you back from her.
  • Marshall adores you, too. At the time you were born, he couldn’t say a lot of words, but the moment we brought you into the house and introduced him to you, he started saying your name. Now, to distract and/or motivate him, we often say things like, “Where’s Livia?” and “Let’s go get Livia.” Sometimes when you’re napping he goes looking for you, barging into rooms calling, “Li’ia! Li’ia!”
  • You have long feet and slender, ladylike fingers.
  • Your nickname is Livluv.

Love,

Mom

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Sounds

Nowhere do the frogs sound creepier than on the nature path where I took this video. Listen and enjoy!

sounds

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We Meet Again

My husband brought me an old spice jar, saying “Look who’s been stalking you!” There was something in the jar. Since the last thing that jar had held was a deer tick, and because I’ve been fretting over ticks lately, I jumped to the conclusion that he’d brought me another tick. I was not pleased.

But it turned out to be a six-spotted green tiger beetle, star of a recent Mystery Thing post. He had brought me the bug so I’d have another opportunity to take pictures of it. Wasn’t that sweet in an icky buggy way?

So I took some pictures of Mr. Greenbug. Here he is in the spice jar.

And here he is on the patio after I released him.

After taking this picture, I turned away for a moment, and he was gone. Good-bye and good luck, Mr. Greenbug!

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