On Friday I thought, "Hey, you know what? People keep asking and asking for my opinions about cloth diapering a newborn, and I keep putting it off because I don't necessarily have 'OPINIONS' as I have many, many meandering pointless thoughts, but...whatever. I am writing those thoughts DOWN and getting it all out of the way and then many people will stop asking me for my important opinions that I do not actually have."
2,500 words later, I realized that maybe, JUST MAYBE, I had a little more to say about cloth diapers than I originally thought. Right now it's looking like a three-part series. I KNOW. I KNOW AND I AM SORRY.
Back when I started this blog, I never in a million years would have dreamed that I would one day be the sort of person who wrote three-part series on cloth diapers. Perhaps, if I'd known, I would have re-thought the whole blogging thing in first place.
But I didn't, so here we are. It's not my fault no one invented time travel, you know.
Anyway, so that's...coming. Feel free to head for the dang hills. I wasn't able to work on it today because I had to take Noah and Ezra to the dentist, because six months ago I only had two children and thought that scheduling back-to-back dental appointments sounded like a good idea. True, I was six months' pregnant at the time and SHOULD have known better, but I think I was laboring under the misconception that when you give birth to a third child, it comes with an extra set of arms.
Noah lost YET ANOTHER tooth last night -- his third tooth in just over a month. The rapid-fire shedding of teeth is mostly paving the way for The Coming Orthdontia, as he currently has two adult-sized teeth fighting for the preciously spare real estate left by the three baby teeth. "Well, maybe his mouth will..grow a little bit," the dentist said, cocking his head sideways and making a face like he was pretending to accept the possible existence of the Loch Ness Monster in order to placate a crazy person at a dinner party.
I told him he didn't need to lie to me: I had my first spacer appliance in the first grade. I know this kid's genes. I was in the room when he was conceived, believe it or not.
I also learned that Noah has two of his six-year molars already. They look like they've erupted fairly recently, so the dentist helpfully informed me that IF Noah had seemed extra "cranky" or "off-kilter" or just "generally sort of begging to be sold at a yard sale" lately, the molars might be the cause. The hygenist -- at whom Noah had screamed "YOU'RE KILLING MEEEE" during his cleaning -- tried not to laugh as I feigned ignorance at any such out-of-the-ordinary behavior.
And then Ezra, sweet, cheerful little Ezra who has never minded the dentist at all, not one bit, hey look at dis magic moving outer space chair yay, proceeded to ALSO scream bloody murder throughout his whole cleaning. "I NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE" was his howl of choice, over and over again until the exact second the hygenist offered him the prize box. That shut him up right quick. Oh. I was not aware there were free toys. I withdraw my previously stated objections.
(Ezra's teeth are just fine. He's got plenty of space, but needs to curb the night-time thumbsucking habit at some point before college.)
As for Baby Ike? Oh, he attracted his usual fan club with that big goofy gummy grin of his...and then promptly yakked all over my lap when no one was looking. So at least I feel like I can count on ONE of them to behave as expected.