Six

I spent yesterday doing what I always do, the day before his birthday: Frantically trying to collect dozens and dozens of video snippets from a variety of recording devices, cursing myself for having so many dang recording devices in the first place, for not keeping things better organized throughout the year, and for not yet having the courage to say ENOUGH, NO MORE on the dumb montage thing. 

I came close this year. I really did. Five years seemed like a good stretch, a nice end point, and most of the video footage we took of Noah this year doesn't work with the actual audio stripped away. He's talking in almost all of it, chattering away about Star Wars and Frodo and Harry Potter and dinosaurs and Legos and school and camp and swimming and the beach and fireworks and movies and Ezra and Baby Ike and lost teeth and Angry Birds and and and.

This is the first year I've had that problem. And oh, what a good problem it is to have.

I flipped through photos instead, surprised at how much he changed this year -- you always think it's slowing down, that they are already "big" and no longer hurtling towards "bigger" as fast as they did during the first couple years, but it isn't, and they are.

Noah shot up like a weed, then bloomed, blossomed, whatever, doing so many things he's never done before that, in retrospect, this year was more jam-packed with momentous "firsts" than any year so far. He enjoyed a birthday party. He learned to swim. He discovered drawing pictures is kind of fun. Karate. Kindergarten. Lost teeth. New babies. Lost grandparents. And for the first time, he could tell us all about all of it, in his own words.

There's simply no way to fit everything into a short little video. Life is simply too big now. It's as big as he is, at a tall, gangly, talkative, frustrating, hilarious six years old. 

And oh, what a good problem that is to have.

Six! from amalah on Vimeo.

Music: 2 Atoms In a Molecule by Noah & The Whale

Starting To Sense My View of the World May Be Slightly Skewed

PART THE FIRST: ANGRY BIRD IS ANGRY, MENACING

Scene from Ezra's play kitchen this morning:

SOON.

OH YEAH? FUCK YOU, BIRD.

PART THE SECOND: ATTACK OF THE TURBO HORK

I am feeling better. But also wondering if Baby Ike had a touch of whatever THAT was, because dear God. IN HEAVEN, EVEN. The happy spitting/reflux/spewomatic reached epic proportions yesterday. Truly Exorcist-levels of bullshitvomit.

At some point in the afternoon I gave up on remaining upright and functional and crawled in bed with Ike, hoping he would maybe just let me lie there and doze for awhile if I kept my shirt off and let him drain my life force to his heart's content. He would nurse, then barf. Nurse, barf, nurse, barf. I kept staggering down the hall for more burp rags until I literally made him a nest out of a fresh half-dozen of the heavy duty ones, and still. STILL. We ended up scooting around the bed in search of a fresh dry patch, which would soon be similarly befouled.

It was disgusting. It put every hork-o-fest thus far to shame. And then he was all, "Well. That just happened. I'm hungry. More milk, please." And on and on it went. Jason came home and I handed him the baby and hid in the other room, counted back from three and...

HIM: HOLY SHIT IKE.

There is no point to this anecdote. I just needed someone else to be as grossed out as I was. Did it work? 

(He has his four-month check-up early next week. We'll of course check his weight gain [which has always been perfect] and I will again try to explain that no, seriously, this kid's a milk geyser, HALP. Though last time he projectile puked all over my shoes right in front of the doctor and she was like, "Yep. I remember those days! They were fun!" And then handed me some paper towels.)

PART THE THIRD: HELP ME OUT HERE.

ME: Ike has Spock eyebrows.

HIM: What?

ME: Spock eyebrows! Like Spock!

HIM: ...

ME: SIGH. He only has the up part. Not the down part. SPOCK EYEBROWS.

HIM: Up part? What are you talking about?

SPOCK.

EYEBROWS.

This is not a difficult concept, amirite? 

The Ides of September

Can't blog. Busy clinging to bed for dear life, pleading with room to stop spinning and for bathroom to stop being so goddamn far away. And to also stop spinning. 

I spent most of the morning in Am I Sick? I Think I Might Be Getting Sick. limbo, not sure if I was just extra kinda tired, or queasy from too much coffee and not enough bagels, and then. Okay. Yes. Sick. Glad we cleared that up. Everything is nice and definitively terrible now. 

I'm not sure which child brought home the pestilence -- my money's on Noah, who said he felt like he needed to throw up on Sunday but did not actually throw up, because that's how it works. Their mild discomfort is your wishing for death. They sneeze once, your sinuses set themselves on fire and explode out your head holes. 

Wait. Why am I still talking? Why am I even trying to type right now? Everything on the screen looks like a spiraly black-and-white soup right now anyway, probably full of typos and delirious nonsense about karate kaftan tampon popsicle. Harpsichord! Whatever, ceiling fan ocean farquat tomorrow, zzibbt.

Whole Lot of Nothing

I know this blog is the equivalent of a crazy person on the bus* forcing you to look at wallet-sized photos of children whom you possibly suspect came with the wallet, but...Noah had another belt test this weekend:

Practicing for the big board-breaking moment.

Seconds before the big board-breaking moment...

And...yes. So that went well.

EEEEEEEEEE.

It just never gets old. Or maybe it does, sometimes, when it's Monday afternoon and his uniform is in the laundry hamper and he's whining that he doesn't waaaaaaaant to go to karate, and I secretly don't waaaaaaaaant to go either because GUESS WHAT KID, your mom wouldn't mind just staying home on the couch instead of sitting in a chair in a sweaty karate studio, searching for Elmo videos on YouTube to keep your brothers occupied. At least YOU get to take your shoes off and punch things.

And then the next belt test rolls around, and we get to watch our kid fly through the air and crack a board in half on the way down, and then watch him jump around like a ping pong ball because YOU GUYS DID YOU SEE WHAT I JUST DID???? and suddenly it all seems like slightly less of a giant pain in the ass. 

THAT'S HOW THEY GET YOU. 

(Also, it's Monday and his uniform is in the laundry hamper and so are all of my pants. Goddamn it.)

*After typing that sentence I felt like maybe I had already made that comparison here on my blog somewhere. Self-deprecating reruns! How meta. So I did a quick search for it in the search bar and while I couldn't find that specific reference, I did learn that there are 10 PAGES' WORTH of search results for the words "crazy person on bus" on this blog. 

***

Things that also went well: I had a little girl in my house for four whole days. A little girl who looked like she could be MY little girl. A little girl who wore tutus and sparkly shoes and who, when I told her that I was sorry, but I was going to have to eat her face off because she was so delicious, laughed and said I was funny. And then scrunched up her eyes and offered me a cheek. Which I ate. It was only fair, because her mom was busy gnawing on Baby Ike's neckrolls. Cannibalism! It's way normal and stuff.

***

Things that did not go so well this weekend: Once our company left, we went to see The Lion King. We had to bail just after Hakuna Matata, because the movie managed to successfully scar both of our children in just the first half alone! I'm not sure Disney's managed a more efficient record since Bambi. 

***

Oh, crap. I had another whole story to tell but Ike is awake and I have to go meet Noah at the bus stop and promised him one of his friends could come over MAN. Shame that my super-exciting life keeps interfering with my incredibly-boring blog. Where I...blog about said super-exciting life. Hmm. One of those hyphenates is probably not entirely accurate.

But hey! Look how round Baby Ike is getting! That's update-worthy, right?

Maybe not? 

I don't even know the difference anymore.

AND THEN HE BARFED. THE END.

CLEAN ALL THE THINGS

We have family coming to visit in about...oh, NOW. Family who have never actually been to our house, live and in person, since we moved here almost five years ago. Which means I have spent the last five hours FRANTICALLY trying to clean and organize everything so it actually looks like we've lived here for five years. Instead of...five hours. It's your lucky day, unlabeled box of mystery that we never unpacked because clearly your contents were never missed! You're finally getting unpacked moved to an out-of-the-way spot in the basement!

They have a three-and-a-half year old little girl. So that's four children, all five years old and younger. Here. In the house that I am now questioning cleaning up in the first place. WELCOME TO HELL, NOW WITH 25% MORE PRINCESS CRAP. 

Even the dog got all fancied up for the occasion. By which I mean bathed.

WAT DOIN?

WATER MAKES IMPOSSIBLY TINY LEGS MOAR IMPOSSIBLY TINY

I HAZ NO IDEA WAT JUST HAPPEND

Anyway, I better go take out the last of the trash and re-check that the liquor cabinet is stocked locked. 

PRAY.

Unexpecting the Expected

Confession time: I really let Ezra down this past week, during the beginning of school.

I mentioned already that sometimes I FORGET. I forget that for all of his highly-verbal-ness and typical-development-ness and bubbly cheerfulness, I can't go and turn on the auto-parent cruise control. 

Too often, Ezra is The One I Don't Worry About.

I mean, not really. That sounds worse than what I'm really trying to say. It's just, as a younger sibling of a special-needs child, each new stage of Ezra's development was met with a big sigh of relief. He talks! He eats! He runs! He holds a crayon! He uses utensils! He thinks other kids are fun! He has a wild imagination and an even wilder appetite for full-tilt adventure and destruction! 

At some point, I was just like: Okay. We're good. I can stop looking for things. 

I have conversations with Ezra that you wouldn't even believe. I feel like I haven't even come close to capturing how amazing he is through my own words here. At not-even-three, he is better at expressing his emotions and telling you about his day than Noah is at almost-six. His occasional toddler stubbornness and temper outbursts are nothing compared to the fits Noah would throw, back in the day. HOOOOboyfuckballs, not even close.

Noah would get mad because a light bulb was flickering or a clothing tag was bothering him or he was convinced we were taking him someplace that might possibly maybe require him to sit in a chair. There was never a full-proof way to reach him during a tantrum, to calm him down, other than to completely remove him -- physically, kicking and screaming -- from the situation and wait for the adrenaline to even itself back out.

Ezra, on the other hand, gets mad when I tell him he can't have another cookie. He'll look me in the eyes and say "I'M MAD," and then maybe kick the side of the couch. "UH!" he'll add, for emphasis. I raise my eyebrow at him, like, is that all you got, dude? And then he silently goes and puts himself in time out. 

Oh, this sounds so cold, like I don't take Ezra's moods or emotions seriously, because I do. I DO. I'm actually the world's BIGGEST SUCKER around that child, because when his sweet little face turns sad, I turn into mush.

Noah requires so much effort on my part to be perfectly consistent and even-tempered and patient and digging through my knowledge stores about sensory processing to come up with the appropriate, non-shit-losing reaction. Ezra gets the fun, impromptu Mommy who figures maybe it isn't the biggest fucking deal in the world to let him have another cookie, at least he's not screaming at me because our neighbors are playing the radio outside and it's completely unacceptable that I cannot make them turn it off. 

This past week, though, Ezra also got the hurried, oblivious Mommy who was completely blindsided by a wicked case of separation anxiety.

After the first couple "introductory" days of school, Ezra was expected to separate from me outside of school, either at the front door or curbside. A teacher or aide escorts the kids the rest of the way. 

Our first attempt at the new drop-off order resulted in him sobbing his face off and screaming my name and begging me to take him home.

BECAUSE IT HADN'T OCCURRED TO ME TO TELL HIM I'D BE DROPPING HIM OFF, THAT THINGS WOULD BE DIFFERENT THAT DAY.

Me! The queen of visual schedules and social stories! The one who hasn't driven ANYWHERE without briefing Noah on full detailed run-down of where we're going and what we'll be doing since oh, 2007? Who prepares for each and every little transition like some people prepare for hurricanes! 

Nope. Sorry Zah, we'll just have a little conversation about cars and trees and then Imma gonna pull up to school and let a stranger reach in and carry you off. You're cool with that, right? 

*headdesk*

Yesterday was our first day with no crying at the drop off. Today was pretty good too. I can still sense his anxiety all morning about going to school, though. I can tell that he's worried someone is going to change all the rules on him again, like today's the day I'm going to launch him out of the car towards the school on a giant slingshot, Angry Birds style. 

His teacher reports that he's completely fine once he gets to the classroom -- he's very into the shoe-changing ritual where he puts on his special "school shoes" -- and says that really, he's integrating into the Montessori way of doing things at exactly the usual pace, for a child his age. He's independent, yet eager to learn and happy to please. Stubborn, yet social and charming. Typical. Nothing out of the ordinary. As expected. 

The school director (whom I think completely loves us and Ezra thanks to our South Park bonding moment. boo-yah), did tell me about one incident when she was leading the class: Ezra had a bit of a meltdown after snack because he wanted more snack and there was no more snack. Instead of putting himself in time out, though, he threw himself at her legs and asked to be picked up. She obliged and he snuffled on her shoulder for a minute, then announced that he was "all better" and ready to go to the playground. 

"I FORGET," she said. "He's so highly verbal and everything that I forget that he's not even three years old yet. He seems so...beyond that, sometimes."

Yes. Exactly. Beyond. Just complicated, unique and amazing little Ezra, going beyond my wildest dreams and expectations.

 

As usual. Just like I always expected. 

THINGS THAT ARE NOT CLOTH DIAPERS

THING #1: LIFE INSURANCE. WAIT WHAT?

In perhaps the ultimate "try to make THIS topic interesting" challenge ever, the folks at Lifehappens.org asked me to contribute a blog entry about life insurance. How did I do?

Don't answer that.

But maybe just go read it? It's about Ceiba? Remember her? She remembers you. Aww, wookit.

THING #2: SHOPPY SHOPPY SHOPPY

And then! In perhaps the ultimate "Amalah can be bought very easily" example, Old Navy sponsored a series of posts over at Babble Voices about going shopping with your children. So I went shopping with my children. Then I wrote about shopping with my children. See how that works? ASTOUNDING, I KNOW. 

My post went up today. And while I don't want to spoil anything for you (since my blog posts tend to be so high drama and suspenseful and all), Ike totally got a onesie with a mummy on it.

Dude, don't move, but I think Mom has finally gone up and around the bend with this stripey clothes business. 

THING #3: BOOBS

Yep. 

THING #4: TORNADOS WITH FRICKING LASER BEAMS ATTACHED TO THEIR HEADS

It's Back To School Night at Ezra's preschool. I hope there are snacks.

There were no snacks at Noah's Back To School Night, though we were given the chance to write a little letter for him to find when he came in the next day. I illustrated our letter with a doodle of an Angry Bird, but was informed by Noah that I'd made the Angry Bird look HAPPY and this bothered him greatly. In fact, my incompetance at drawing properly angry Angry Birds just about ruined his whole morning, because he spent most of Journaling Time attempting to correct my drawing AND THEN HE HAD NO TIME TO JOURNAL, MOM. GOD. 

I asked him what he usually writes in his journal and he said Angry Birds.

Anyway, none of this is making me feel very confident in my artistic ability, or that Ezra's teacher doesn't secretly think I am some kind of batshit crazy person.

THING #5: WAIT FOR IT...

WAIT FOR IT...

*BARF*

*OHCOMEON*

Adventures in Newborn Cloth Diapering, Part Three

Not going to lie: Running out of steam here. I committed more words about cloth diapering last week than any sane human being ever should. (I even went off on a whole big woolie-pant tangent at AlphaMom. SOMEBODY STOP ME.) I kind of just want to go lie down and not listen to myself for awhile.

But okay. Ike is now three-and-a-half-months old. This is what my diapering stash/area/fortress of crazy looks like...

ACTUAL DIAPERS:

Two dozen newborn-sized prefolds

Nine one-size fitteds

Six one-size FuzziBunz

Two one-size Charlie Bananas (hand-me-downs from Ezra)

One GroBaby all-in-one (same deal)

One BabyKicks hemp fitted (one of Temerity Jane's cast-offs, similarly not adored here, but used)

COVERS:

Two Thirsties Duo Wraps, size one

Two PUL covers from Fluffy's Diapers, size small

Three upcycled wool covers from Ocean Babies, size small

Four fleece covers from Pumpkin Pants, size small

STILL NOT YET IN FIRST-STRING USE:

12 refurbished one-size bumGenius

15 FuzziBunz, size medium

Yes. This is (wait for it) a shitload of diapers. This is way, way more than I need. Way more than anybody needs, for just one measly baby.

This is, however, NOT some damning proof that everything sucks and is wrong and you will hate your life and make ALL THE WRONG CHOICES.

No. This is just damning proof that I need to stop buying so many damn diapers, is all. More of a testament to how much I ENJOY cloth diapering Ike.

There's something addicting about it. Something perversely...fun about the experimenting and the promise that this! THIS diaper! This cover! This laundry process! This will be the perfect one, solving every problem or minor quibble I've ever had with the others! Together, we shall build THE CUTEST MOSTEST PERFECTEST DIAPER IN THE WORRRRRLD!

When Noah was in disposables and I had complaints, it was like, "Well, he's having blow-outs in the Huggies, so...Pampers, I guess? Luvs or generics? Whichever ones have the least annoying cartoon character on them?" And then you switch and really, they're all kinda the same. Whatever.

This time, it's like, "ETSY SHOPPING TIME YAAAAYYYYY!"

But really, we're soooo obviously set. More than set. I do diaper laundry about twice a week, every three days or so. No big deal at all, with a family of five: I'm easily doing laundry almost every day anyway. The diapers just get an overnight soaking first. Other than that, they simply blend in with our regular onslaught of dirty clothes.  

(DIAPER PAIL ASIDE: Metal trash can with lid from Ikea. Pail liner from Planet Wise. Spritz wet and soiled diapers with Biokleen Bac-Out to kill odor. We have a secondary pail in the basement, next to the washer, where I sometimes put especially evil diapers, or just the ones we change in places other than Ike's room.)

So, what worked 100% the absolute BEST, when Ike was brand-new? Newborn-sized fitteds, hands down. They were our ultimate solution to the blow-out problem. Turns out Ike needed more elastic around his legs than just a cover alone. They also featured a snap-down for the umbilical cord. 

Leanne (Rebel Baby Co.) gave me three of her newborn-sized diapers as a gift, and if I were to cloth diaper a newborn again I would DEFINITELY invest in a few more of these, even though they do seem pricey for something you may not use very long. But we used them A LOT. More than any single onesie or cute little romper. So I'd skip some of the wardrobe purchases next time and buy more diapers.

(I love how I keep saying shit like "next time." No, self. Just...no.)

I was so sad when Ike outgrew the newborn fitteds after a couple months...I could still snap them up just fine, but he is just sooooo loooooong, and they kinda didn't cover up his butt crack all the way. Oops. So I upgraded to (and paid for, though Leanne gave me a discount because she's awesome) the one-size fitteds that we're still using now. Adjustable in the rise, around the waist, snap-in soaker...they are fantastic and worth every penny.

(I know Leanne is on hiatus and probably won't be able to accept a ton of orders right now, so if you absolutely must have something similar to our fitteds RIGHT FREAKING NOW, you can find them at other shops on HyenaCart and Etsy. Perhaps some commenters can some more specific URL guidance?)

Ike, six days old, in a newborn fitted, and just thrilled as anything about it.

We tend to save the fitteds for nighttime or going out, but I also occasionally treat them like a little outfit unto themselves and let Ike kick it in a cover-less fitted and a t-shirt. Maybe some legwarmers, now that he's plumping up a bit. SO CUTE.

During the day, at home, Ike wears prefolds with a cover. Jason likes just folding them in threes and using the PUL covers, swearing that's the "easiest" of any of the options we own, pocket diapers included. (He gets a bit weary of snaps, and misses the velcro on the bumGenius. The reason we own as many PUL covers as we do is because I ordered two velcro ones just for him. I'm so romantic, you guys!)

Me? I prefer the breathable covers: the fleece and the wool. Those pull on like little pants, so I have to use a Snappi to fasten the prefold. It took some practice, but I am now ready for the Diaper Folding World Championships, Speed & Accuracy Devision:

(I just timed myself. 11.4 seconds, motherfuckers.)

(Click here for a more detailed look at various ways to fold a prefold.)

Every day I am warming up to the FuzziBunz one-size diapers more and more. Ike has hit the point where his growth will come more in spurts, rather than just CONSTANT NEVER-ENDING EMBIGGENING. It occurred to me, after I wrote about how much I hated messing with all that infernal elastic that it has actually been awhile since I had to mess with it. Figures.

I'd give the Charlie Banana diapers a slight edge over the FuzziBunz in this regard -- they have adjustable elastic around the legs only, and you can tighten the waist enough using just the snaps, because the flaps can actually snap OVER and ONTO each other. (Our fitteds so this as well. It's...just stupidly brilliant and I don't know why the FuzziBunz haven't added this feature yet.) (Velcro diapers are also great in this regard, because you can fasten velcro on top of velcro. Our velcro on the bumGenius diapers was just BEYOND DEAD and had to go, but sadly, with snaps, they just don't fit a tiny skinny baby as well as they used to.)

So the CB diapers fit just great and work like any other pocket diaper system (all the inserts are compatible across all the brands -- you don't have to try to keep them straight or anything, just wash and stuff), but my only quibble with THEM is that they're made in China. The company seems like a very good one, but as I mentioned in Part One, I also like knowing my money is going to fellow moms. 

The next project is to really attack the mystery of the leaking one-size diapers: I THOUGHT the leaks were all fit-related, or because the leg elastic is shot in some of the hand-me-downs. But last night Ike wore a double-stuffed FuzziBunz (which is new) and woke up soaking wet. That suggests we've got a repelling problem and it's time to strip them. (This has always happened periodically with the pocket diapers, but not once with prefolds or fitteds. Is that...weird? Normal? Still just a matter of time? Dunno.)

It's ALSO possible that our microfiber inserts are simply toast and I should replace them with some new hemp ones...or maybe just start stuffing the pocket diapers with a prefold. Or it could be a combination of issues and I'll still have to decide whether to replace all that elastic in the hand-me-downs...or just buy the next size up in prefolds. 

But you know, for a stash of diapers that saw CONSTANT ROUND-THE-CLOCK USE for over TWO YEARS, they served us very well. I salute you, beat-up, broke-down diapers! I salute you. 

***

So it's obvious that you can basically just wind me up and I will ramble all over the place until I fall asleep or get distracted by something shiny. Like wine. Shiny, pretty wine. 

What? Oh, right. Okay. How about I try to write out a little timeline and leave it at that? Kind of structured and organized, though not 100% to-the-day accurate, because I was kind of too busy keeping small human beings alive to keep notes. But if you're trying to guesstimate what will fit when and for how long, this might help. Or confuse you even further when your baby turns out to be a completely different size or body type than mine: 

Day One: Meconium poops. Black, tarry disgustingness. Screw that. Go with disposables until it's over. 

Day Leaving The Hospital: STEAL ALL THE DIAPERS. 

Day Yay We're Home: OMG, he's so small. Barely seven pounds, no meat on his bones to speak of. Preemie fitteds and covers are the only things that don't gap around the legs or cover the stump. Not sure I'd bother buying those again, even though they weren't that expensive, because we had PLENTY of free disposables to tide us over. Then again: The earth, and stuff. 

Day Hazy Newborn Fog: Poops are expode-y bursts of mustard water. Leak out prefold legholes every time. Need new cover every time. Out of clean covers and it's only lunchtime. Hmm.

Day First Well-Baby Visit: Figure out that newborn fitteds are where it's AT in avoiding leg-hole leaks. They become go-to diaper for any time we leave the house, because prefolds simply cannot be trusted. Quote from pediatrician: "Oh my God, that is the cutest diaper I have ever seen in my life."

Look at those scrawny legs, and you'll realize what we were dealing with.

Day Seven: Dear God, we need more fitteds. Prefolds no match for poop onslaught. One-sizes still comically gigantic, bad position for stump.

Day 14: Informed by pediatrician that Ike's umbilical stump is "extra substantial" and will take longer than usual to fall off. Indeed, it hangs on for almost a month, and even then needed "help" from Noah, who was promptly traumatized for life. Still limping around with combo of hospital diapers, prefolds and our three newborn fitteds, which have come to be known as MY PRESHUSSSSS around these parts. 

Week Three: Preemie size everything is retired. Poops decrease to once a day or once every other day. Still have to replace the cover when it happens in a prefold, but it's an improvement.

Week Four: Nine spanking-new one-size fitteds arrive. Angels sing, clouds part.

Week Five: Ike is nine pounds, five ounces. I keep trying the FuzziBunz but am still not happy with the fit. 

Week Six or Seven, What Am I, A Wizard? Begin reasessing our choice of all PUL covers. It's hot out. Ike's getting rashes. Start staring very hard at wool and fleece covers online. Slowly have realization that the different style leg hole might solve more than a few problems. Breathe heavily through mouth, do nothing. 

Week Eight: Go to the beach, stay at relative's condo. We've taken cloth diapers there before and recieved much enthusiastic support and the free reign of their washer and dryer, but Ike is still going through such a high number of diapers every day that I cheat and bring a jumbo back of generic disposables. I resent them for their highly not-cute appearance and think they smell chemical-ish, but still. Way easier.  

Two Months: Ike is 10 pounds, 15 ounces. Order fleece and wool covers from Etsy. Jason looks at me like I have lost my damn mind, aren't they going to be...hot? You want to put him in butt sweaters? I ignore him, but leave out the part about the wool covers needing to be handwashed, la la laaaaa.

Two Months & Five Minutes: A brand-new wool cover goes through the wash. OF COURSE IT DOES. I manage to stretch it back into shape, then realize that my worst fear has arrived: Re-lanolizing a wool cover, which sounds scary and complicated and...

Two Months & Six Minutes: Discover that "lanolizing" involves filling sink with warm water and squirting some goddamn leftover lanolin NIPPLE OINTMENT in there, then tossing the cover into the sink. Swish around, wring out, hang on towel bar. Uh. Okay. That was...easy. 

Two Months & Seven Minutes: Discover the joy of a fitted paired with a wool cover for overnight. Holy hell, that's some sweet-ass diapering.

Two Months & Eight Minutes: Prefolds make their grand reappearance, using a Snappi under the new covers. Old PUL covers suddenly fit well enough to go over a non-Shappied prefold, much to Jason's joy and delight. 

Three Months: Cruising right along with prefolds and fitteds. New FuzziBunz and old bumGenius finally seem to fit, but are more prone to leakage. (Pee, not poop.) However, they're easier to toss in the diaper bag and change while we're out. I'm surprised how much better I like the more "complicated" diapering options, though. Pockets were all I ever knew and I thought they were the Cadillac of diapers, given the price, but...there you have it. I am officially a cloth diapering weirdo.

Three Months & 19 Days: Today! I have no idea how much Ike weighs right now, but I know that he is very long, very lean and solidly in size 3-6 month clothing. Everything, save for the hand-me-downs, is working absolutely fine, at this size and stage.

He wears prefolds with whatever cover I grab out of the drawer during the day. He wears a fitted with a wool cover at night (and I have not needed to wash and/or lanolize a single wool cover again, so don't let the ZOMGHANDWASH AREYOUHIGH care instructions for wool freak you out). He wears a fitted or a FuzzBunz when we go out. After he wears them, I wash them. I dry them. I put them back in the drawer. No superpowers required, other than EPIC self-control when it comes to Etsy and all the handmade customized wooliepant covers with the designs on the butts and the fitted in the cute fabrics AH MAH GOD WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME.

And that concludes my manifesto on cloth diapering. As always, feel free to ask me specific questions over at the Advice Smackdown (and not just about cloth diapers, I'll yak about anything other there, really). 

For everybody else, thank you for putting up with this nonsense, and know that I will try my God's honest damnedness to talk about something -- ANYTHING -- besides cloth diapers for a good, long time.

Adventures in Playing Blog Hooky, Part Four Million and Three

Okay, so no part three today for the cloth diaper thing. I'm sure there are entire threes of you feeling something vaguely akin to disappointment, or maybe it's just indigestion. Or maybe your refrigerator died like mine did yesterday and you're having to sniff its contents and deciding if stuff is "okay" or not and maybe you made a bad call about the mayonnaise. I can't say for sure. BITCH I DON'T KNOW YOUR LIFE.

Anyway. I decided to take a certain blondish gentleman (and another small bald companion) out for a very special Pancakes & Strawberries For Lunch For No Particular Reason celebratory outing after preschool today instead.

 

WORTH IT. 

(I did write a new post over at Amalah's West, though, lest you accuse me of being a COMPLETE slacker, or even worse: A well-adjusted person who is perfectly able to get through a single day without feeling compelled to plaster long rambling blog entries across half the websites on the Internet. How dare you, sir. HOW DARE YOU.)

Adventures in Newborn Cloth Diapering, Part Two

ZOMG, YOU GUYS.

So immediately after finishing my epic manifesto (or at least PART ONE of it) (and I don't think "finishing" is correct, because it was more like I ran out of time and simply had to STOP TALKING SO MUCH and hit the Publish button), I dashed out to meet Noah at the school bus. While I was waiting, I pulled my blog up on my phone, just to double-check that everything had published okay...and to start spotting the inevitable typos that always suddenly become SUPER obvious the second after I've convinced myself that I've proofread enough. 

And that's when it fully hit me JUST HOW MANY WORDS I'd committed to the topic of cloth diapers. By the time I was done scrolling through all those many, many paragraphs to the comments, MY THUMB HAD A FUCKING CRAMP. 

Then I did this embarrassingly audible snarf-laff at myself, because FUCK YOU, BREVITY, and another mother gave me a look and asked what was so funny. 

I opened my mouth, ready to explain that "oh hi I just wrote a Great American Novel's worth of text about my infant's diapers on the Internet for no real reason," but then thought this would be a smart time to STOP TALKING SO MUCH.

So instead, I lied. "LOLcats," I told her.

Anyway! Welcome to part two! In which I admit that sometimes cloth diapering didn't quite go as planned. Not so much to discourage anyone out there, but...I just need to be honest. I felt like everything I read from other cloth-diaper users never seemed to admit that cloth has ANY limitations or drawbacks (besides the obvious having to wash them, teh horrozz). Like we're all too focused on trying to convince people that we're not insane. Shhh! Don't give them any ammo! Don't mention the leaks! You shut your whore mouth about the overnight diaper rash from a sopping wet prefold!

Likewise, the people who WERE talking about their less-than-great experiences almost had an axe to grind, because they TRIED cloth and they didn't LIKE cloth and so they QUIT and went back to 100% disposables ALL THE TIME and have never been HAPPIER, SO THERE, HIPPIE FREAKS.

The thing is (and this was echoed in the comments several times), cloth doesn't HAVE to be an all-or-nothing, either/or endeavor. No one is going to come in and take away your Exclusively Cloth Diapering Gold Star Hero Award if you mumble "fuck this bullshit" at two in the morning and reach for a disposable instead. No one cares if you keep an emergency stack of Pampers in the diaper bag, or buy a big jumbo sleeve of Target-brand disposables whenever you go on vacation. Because I have done all three of those things, and I would do them again. 

And I would cloth diaper a newborn again! Really! 

(Should a newborn ever miraculously come into my possession, that is, like in a basket on my front step. Because: No. I sure do like babies, but now that I've had three of them, I can definitively tell you that babies turn into children. All babies! Yes! Even yours. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.)

Anyway, here is what I started out with, on the day Ike was born (note that we were already set for stuff like cloth wipes, detergent, wet bags, diaper pails and liners, etc.):

Eight preemie-sized organic cotton prefolds, by Bummis

One dozen newborn-sized organic cotton prefolds, by Bummis

Two dozen newborn-sized unbleached Indian Cotton prefolds, diaper service quality

Three Thirsties covers (one basic extra-small and two Duo Wrap Snap, size one)

Three PUL covers from Fluffy's Diapers on Etsy, size x-small

Six Fuzzi Bunz One Size Cloth Diapers (link goes to Amazon but there are better prices out there)

Three newborn-sized fitted diapers from Rebel Baby Co.

Accessories: Bummis Bio-Soft Liners , Bummis Reusable Fleece Liners, 3-pack Snappi Cloth Diaper Fasteners,

Oooh, ahhh, whatever.

Looking over this list, I can definitely see what my plan was: I'd go halfsies the first week or two, with the preemie prefolds and free hospital disposables, depending on Ike's size. (He was 7 pounds even when we brought him home. Ezra was in the 6-pound range. And Noah? NINE POUNDS.) No matter what his size, we'd move up to the regular prefolds fairly quickly, most likely.

I picked all PUL covers because I couldn't wrap my head about putting a baby in fleece or wool in the summer, plus the Thirsties cut away for the umbilical stump. 

I cinched up the FuzziBunz to the recommended newborn setting and figured those would be our going-out-of-the-house diapers, or middle-of-the-night-I-don't-feel-like-dealing-with-prefolds diapers. 

The three newborn fitteds were a gift -- I hadn't considered buying fitteds because of the cost and the relatively small window of use. But for free? Giddy the fuck up. I set those aside for special occasions, like our well-baby visits at the pediatrician. (Shut up.)

That was a good plan, honestly. It was the result of months and months of needless obsessing, because I am crazy and refused to chill out and remember that I didn't need to have a cloth diapering system perfectly in place from day one. But still. Good plan.

A few tweaks and problems, though:

1) I didn't need the liners, flushable or fleece. Liners are fantastic for older babies with more, ahem, substantial, solid poops, but there's no real need to fuss with them for breastmilk baby poop. I have MAYBE felt the need to pre-rinse about two or three soiled diapers TOTAL before tossing them in the washing machine. I've dunked one in the toilet, I think, and the others I still simply put in the diaper pail and then rinsed them off in our utility sink right before washing. Everything else goes in the pail, then in a cold soak cycle and a hot wash with a tablespoon of Charlie's Soap. Everything nasty washes away like mustard-colored water, no biggie. If your diapers look stained, let them dry outside in the sun. 

For diaper stink, I strip them every couple months with Rockin Green' Cloth Diaper and Laundry Detergent according to the package directions. (Weirdly, I tried switching from Charlie's to Rockin Green full-time, but the stink just came back faster when I used it all the time. Charlie's keeps them smelling better for longer, but when the inevitable build-up happens, only Rockin Green can de-funkify them.)

2) I hated the Bummis organic prefolds, both preemie and newborn. HATED. Still do. They got demoted to burp rags almost immediately. They don't fluff up as nicely as the diaper-service-quality prefolds, but they shrink more, absorb less and don't have much "give" to them, which meant I couldn't use them with a Snappi fastener. I had to lay them in the cover tri-fold style, and when your covers are too big and your prefold too skimpy, well...

3) Blowouts. God, if there is anything to make a newbie cloth diaperer wonder what in the SAM HILL SHE IS DOING WRONG, it's the newborn poop blowouts. Which everyone assures you only happen in disposables! I mean, that was true for us and Ezra, but not with Ike. I had six covers, which was SUPPOSED to be more than enough to last a few days because you only had to change the cover when it got poop on it, right? 

YEAH. COOL STORY BRO. Newborn babies poop approximately a billion times a day. Our covers got poop on them every. Time. He. Pooped. So did his clothes. Not up and out the back, like a disposable, but out the leg holes. In the preemies, in the newborns, in the Bummis and in the "good" prefolds. There was no snap setting or extra gusset or special fold that was any match for Ike's scrawny little chicken thighs. 

In a panic, I ordered a couple Proraps in the preemie size, hoping that they'd fit a little better and keep the poop contained. The order got held up by Amazon for some reason, so by the time they arrived, Ike was a week old. They DID keep poop from getting on Ike's clothing...but poop still got on THEM, the covers, every time, so I was once again left with a pile of useless prefolds and no clean covers by mid-morning. Plus, the preemie size probably only fit him for another week, two tops. Bah. 

The rapid-fire poop-changes were a temporary problem -- (most) babies do eventually stop the poop-after-every-meal thing within the first month, so the onslaught of blowouts slowed to about one a day, then every other day, but they were simply...BIGGER blowouts. After about three or four weeks we abandoned prefolds entirely in favor of all fitteds with covers because GAAAAHHHHHH. 

By the time I dared revisit the prefolds again (sans the Bummis), about a month later, everything mysteriously worked like clockwork, and Jason and I both now rank the prefolds as among our favorite option to use (he likes the tri-fold/PUL option, I'm all about the angel-wing-fold/Snappi/wooooooooliepants).

 

The "good" prefolds, with the hated Bummis banished to the very bottom of the stash. This is called staying organized, passive-aggressive style. 

I still don't really know what was wrong at first. Was Ike too small and skinny? Covers too big? Should I have had the preemie size on-hand from the start? Should I have opted for some newborn fleece or wool soakers instead of the wrap-style PULs? Did Ike just...poop more enthusiastically than your average baby? Were we just idiots? 

(Don't answer that.)

4) Other people. Jason and my mom stabbed themselves with the Snappi fasteners, not realizing that a replacement for diaper pins might still be a little, you know, SHARP. Our babysitter (who loves the one-sizes for Ezra) took one look at the prefolds and was like, fuck no. (She's since come around, though I can tell she haaaaates the fact that we have more than one "system" going. I revel in having options to pick and choose from; other people, not so much.)

Everyone besides Jason and I seemed easily confounded by the snaps on one-sizes and the soaker pads on the fitteds and would NEVER EVER EVER fasten the diapers up tightly enough because they were afraid of hurting the tiny newborn. Of course, the diaper would then gap and leak all over and everybody would glare at ME, THE CRAZY PERSON, who was insisting that cloth diapers really were the way to go. That was fun.

I don't think there was any way to solve this except to 1) personally take care of every diaper change, 2) accept and embrace my role as the crazy person or 3) hover behind people at the changing table all, UR DOIN IT WRONG. I think I went with a combination of two and three, but I don't know. I was pretty tired. 

5) Rashes. Ike gets a vicious rash if he's left in a diaper for too long -- disposable or cloth, and particularly in a PUL cover. Not on his butt, but in the front, below his belly button and above his bidness. This is not great for nighttime, when you never know if your newborn will sleep for 45 minutes...or four hours. Again, everyone praises cloth diapers to the SKIES for their rash-preventing qualities, and AGAIN, this was true when I cloth diapered an older baby. Ezra NEVER got rashes. But a newborn? Some newborn skin is just that dang sensitive that it doesn't matter. 

Last night Ike slept for an astonishing NINE HOURS in a fitted diaper and a wool cover. Nothing leaked, amazingly, but yeah, there was that pesky, nasty, chapped-looking rash again. 

I recommend Grandma El's Diaper Rash Remedy (which I should have applied before bed last night). It's safe for cloth diapers and clears things up right quick, but I consider it a miracle of OCD over-preparation that I even had the stuff on-hand when Ike needed it, because ho ho ho, we won't need diaper rash cream because we cloth diaper, smugface, hurr hurr durr.

6) FuzziBunz elastic drama. This was, perhaps, the most surprising bit of our Cloth Diaper Journey (coming this fall to CBS!)...I assumed the uber-expensive FB one-sizes would be worth the investment, because I loved the sized version we used for Ezra. The improvements made in the one-size style could only be better, right?

Uh, yeah. Jury is still out on that one. These diapers are amost TOO adjustable. The waist and leg holes all have adjustable elastic that you can pull and button on both sides. Like so:

Before, at the largest setting.

Adjusting, adjusting...

Adjusting, omfg, trying to forget just how many of these fuckers I purchased...

Wookit the wittle diaper! Wookit it!

So that's...six different buttons and adjustment numbering options. And every time I put one of these diapers on Ike, I find myself second-guessing the fit. He grows so fast that I seriously end up rebuttoning and retucking in at least two or three places each time they come through the wash. That is, if the diaper is lucky enough to GET through the wash without the elastic accidentally unbuttoning and disappearing into the diaper, requiring me to dig it out with a safety pin and a lot of curse words. 

Plus, tightening elastic is not MAGIC. All that fabric? Designed to fit a potty-training two-year-old? Doesn't VANISH or anything. It's still there, just cinched and puffed up in the back. I don't mind the little roundy fluffybutt shape a baby gets in bulkier cloth diapers, but these were RIDICULOUS on Ike as a newborn. Like, I wanted to point and laugh at him. HA HA, your mom dresses you funny. I first tried them at around 8 pounds, but I really don't think they were realistic until at least 10 pounds.  

That said, these diapers are the favorite of grandparents and caregivers, because they seem like the "easiest." Just stuff, snap and done, no scary folding or additional cover. So fine! I leave these in the drawer for them, most of the time. (Or in the diaper bag, for changes when we're out.) I figure I'll like them better later, when Ike isn't growing so quickly and making me feel compelled to futz with the elastic so often. Eh, I KNOW I'll like them better, because they really are fantastic diapers. (Though by that point, my hand-me-down batch of Medium FuzziBunz will probably fit, meaning I really could have saved the money I spent on the one-sizes.)

I could just do without ALL THE OPTIONS and go for a little more honesty: Your baby WILL fit into these diapers at some point, but that point is probably not fresh out of the womb. You can buy these diapers a couple months later and not worry that you haven't gotten EVERY PENNY'S WORTH from them, you know? 

AH CRAP BUS TIME AGAIN GOTTA GO. This is a nice little tradition I've got going for myself. Perhaps today, when I gasp in horror at this entry's length and wordiness, I'll pretend I'm seeing goatse for the first time, or something. 

Tomorrow-ish: The stuff that worked. Or else just looked the cutest. Plus some reader questions/requests, so shout 'em out if you've got 'em (or send follow-ups to the Advice Smackdown [amyadviceATgmail.com], and I'll try to cover any specific topics there when we're not feeling quite so CLOTH DIAPER OVERLOAD MAKE IT STOP anymore).