I love cloth diapers.
I know. What a ridiculous thing to love, right? But if you ask any mama who does it nowadays, she’ll probably tell you the same thing.
Not only are they easy to use (no, really – they are), but they are ridiculously cute! Crazy cute. And who can resist an already adorable tushie that is covered with soft goodness in your favorite colors? Makes the Charmin look unappealing at best.
Yes, the cult of the cloth is firmly entrenched in even the mildest of crunchy families. But a new cult is forming.
It’s called “Elimination Communication,” or EC for short.
Basically, it means that you pay attention to your baby’s signals and learn when they need to eliminate, then you take them to the potty and let the potty begin. There are also cues you develop to let baby know it’s okay to shake the dew from her lily or let loose the bowels of hell.
I’m all for being close to your babies, listening to them and trying to understand what they need. I think it’s absolutely necessary in fact.
But maybe there are just too many distractions in modern life for this to be really workable for me.
I ask my friends who do this if there are accidents, and the answer is always, “Sometimes,” but she will sort of look at the floor, or her eyes will suddenly start darting around as if the woman is contemplating chewing her arm off to get away.
Because she doesn’t want you to know the truth.
In my house, within seconds of taking off the diaper, there is poop on my floor, or I get urinated on, and not in a good way.* I just figure some airing out does a body good now and again, but dammit, every time I let him go commando I have a mess to clean up.
There. If I can admit it, anyone can. Except I guess not everyone has that whole “lack of shame” thing going on like I do. So unless I can get some serious help up in here and have time to do absolutely nothing but stare into my baby’s eyes all day…well. I know not what others may choose but, as for me, give me diapers…
or give me a maid.
*I’m kidding! About there being a good way to be peed on, I mean. Like I really had to tell you.