Not Your Mama's Cloth Diaper

Cloth or no cloth?
Before we had a baby, we watched our friend Lauren with her daughter, Reese. She used cloth, interchangeable with her disposables. Typically when she went out, or overnight, the baby would be in disposables. But if they were home during the day, cloth.
So, that's what we decided we would do. We stocked up on a good hundred dollars worth of cloth diapering equipment long before I was even showing.

We used several avenues.

Craigslist.
Online.
Women who sold them like Parylite Candles or Avon.

Cloth diapers can really be found almost anywhere. If you want to try them out you are in luck because they've become super popular again. Even main stream stores sell them. Like Toys R Us and Buy Buy Baby. Target even sells them. They are so trendy, I'm sure even Walmart will eventually jump on the bandwagon, where you will be able to buy them for the price of a tootsie roll and the blood sweat and tears of an indonesian child. But hopefully you won't buy yours there. Hell, maybe they already sell them. I donno, and I don't care.

Anyway.

Amanda got the system down in less than a day. For some reason, It took me until I started to use them to understand.

You can buy the liners with inserts. These are called all in twos. Or you can buy all in ones. These are the liners with the inserts already connected.
The inserts themselves come in all sorts of different styles. Bamboo and Charcoal for maximum leak protectction, Bleached cotton. You can even use prefolds, which look like the old cloth diapers we used to wear.

All of the combinations are really dizzying.

So I want to break it down for you like this.

It's going to take you a couple weeks of using them to make any decisions.

First, it's going to take a couple weeks to decide what you personally like best. You're the one who will be spraying baby shit into the toilet, wearing a fine mist of it on your face and hands. (Handy tip. Keep your toothbrushes in a medicine cabinet from now on)You're the one who will have to pull a luke warm pee soaked insert from it's shell. So you decide.

What I have decided works for me, is the all in twos. I find that the all in ones are too bulky, and they take forever to dry. I also find that they hold more moisture and of course they cost more. Plus the inserts are really thin, and wave up like a potato chip.
We only have one, and I use it last everyday, because I hate them.

Also, I still haven't found a liner I like best. If I had to choose, it would be the prefolds. For some reason they seem to hold moisture the best.

It's important that I say here too, it's going to take you a couple weeks to decide if you really want to stick with cloth diapering. So give it at least that. They are going to leak, you are going to have to hook up a sprayer system to your toilet or to your wash tub to clean them before they go in the wash. Every once and a while you are going to have to strip them of all of the detergent. It's going to take a while for you to figure out the whole system.

And it's going to take a while for you to figure out if you are indeed saving money. You will have to sit down and see if the amount of money spent on the water, the diapers the liners and everything else will save you or cost you.


Here are some cloth diapering nuggets of wisdom I wanna pass along to you....

• Diaper rash cream supposedly makes them leak

• They smell realllllllllllllll bad if you don't wash them immediately.

(esp if you keep them in a closed lid hamper. I learned that the hard way)

• You'll prolly bank on washing them every other day

• It's kinda awesome when your disposable pile takes forever to dwindle

• You'll use your Diaper Genie wayyyy less and save on refills

• Don't use cloth in the first two weeks. The Meconium will never come out of them.

• Get a scrub brush for the poopy ones. Breast milk poo stains cloth.

• Expect people to be resistant to the idea of you cloth diapering your baby. Expect them to give you all sorts of reasons not to.

• Always have a change of clothes, because cloth leaks.

• Cloth diapers barely fit under your babies clothes. Also cloth makes your baby look like an old man with a dumpy gut.

• If you use all in twos, pre assemble them before you need them

• Oh, and change cloth diapers a little more often than disposable, which is about every two hours. It doesn't wick the moisture away all that well.

• And a freebie from my friend Lauren; Use a cloth with essential oils in the bottom of your cloth pail, and in your cloth away from home bag. Your nose will thank you.

I could tell you six million other things about cloth diapering. Really, this blog could go on for hours.
But you know, read this, take what you will from it, and as I learned from Lauren, as with everything else in child raring, you don't have to take cloth diapering so seriously.

Teeeeeeeeeettttthhhh

I feel like a baby boomer with a computer. I'm hunting and pecking with one finger and one hand. Im holding a teething baby with the other, who after three hours of shrieking in pain, has finally fallen asleep in my right arm turning 14 pounds into 50.
Has your baby started teething yet? It's a very wet process. He's turned into a Saint Bernard celebrity. Drool everywhere. Several outfit changes a day. There's ice in a washcloth pooling on our repurposed coffee table.

                                                               We tried it, he hated it.


There's several bags of teething pods, the safer and organic alternative to Oragel which has Benzocaine.

We tried that on his gums. That made him scream even louder. Have you ever had the opportunity to stare down your babies throat as he screams and tears the flesh from your face? It's like looking down the mouth of a whale....
Baby Tylenol? Might as well be a placebo.
Mam  Teether? He shirked that too.

Which is surprising because he loves his Mam pacies. It just goes to show that you never know. You never know what your baby will like and dislike. Especially when they're teething. They become so irrational.

Having wisdom teeth myself that shoulder against my gums from time to time, I understand the sheer pain and torture it is when you have teeth pushing against your skin. It's so horrific.
But it sucks so much more for a baby. They can't articulate the pain, any other way than crying. They can't mix Tylenol 3's with whiskey. They just have to tough it out like champs.

I'm hoping we get through this quickly. I'm hoping these pearly whites start popping through like tomorrow. Or better yet in the next five minutes.

And I'm trying not to think about the fact that until he's around three, we have twenty more teeth to go....

Another Baby Pic on my FB feed

This one is for all of my Facebook friends who don't have children. I want to touch on the topic of the endless stream of baby pictures that you see in your feed and why.

Before I had a baby, I HATED scrolling through my Facebook feed. It was like this.....Cool post, boring post, baby pic, baby pic, baby pic, baby pic. Everyone's babies looked exactly the same to me. I would outwardly groan. C'mon motherfuckers, how many shots can you post of your baby doing EXACTLY the SAME THING every single fucking day!!!!!! So rude. All of these parents posting baby pics totally cut into my self absorbed pre-baby routine. I really didn't give a shit that your kid smiled, or was wearing a cute outfit, or was having a birthday. I never hit the like button. I even considered hiding certain people from my feed. I hated baby pics. I would rather see 4,000 memes than another baby picture.

And then I had Jace. And I totally got it. I started genuinely looking at other parent's baby pictures. I actually enjoyed really studying them. Even looked forward to seeing a new barrage of pictures everyday.



There's three reasons why. The main one is, Until I became a parent, I simply could not comprehend the way you love a child. I am not a good enough writer to put it into words. I could never explain to someone who doesn't have children the feelings you get when you finally do.
Secondly, when you become a parent, you have a commonality with other parents. You enjoy seeing pictures of babies screaming, or puking or holding onto toys. Because you know the struggles those parents go through having that baby, and you also see yourself and your child in those pictures.
Lastly, whether you want to hear this or not, before you are a parent you are one self centered motherfucker. You have nooooo idea. You might say to yourself, I volunteer, I work with kids, I love animals, I head special needs olympics in third world countries. Doesn't matter. Swear to god, until you have a baby, you are super self centered. Just take stock of how many selfies you have posted. Enough said.
And it should be that way. There's nothing wrong with that. It's just par for the course.
So try to understand that when you see all of those damn baby pictures in your Facebook feed, it's so much more deep than another annoying baby shot.

And maybe some day your time will come and you will start posting baby pics too. If not though, try to walk in a mother's or father's shoes.
 How can you get sick of so much love?

Sexy Time after Baby Comes

After 121 days it has finally happened. Amanda & I had a chance at sex and we were both disinterested.
Here's how it went down. Sunday morning on the couch.

Amanda: The baby isn't crying, wanna do it?
Me: eeeeeeeee. Not really.................(45 second pause) But I could take care of you, no problem!
Amanda: No....That's ok. Then I'd have to get up and shower, and anyway I'm just not feeling too good.

We stare at each other as if we've never seen each other before. Her eyes are beady looking at me, and I can't really read them. The last thing I want to do is have sex. I feel gross, tired and aggravated. I suspect she feels the same.
I pat her leg and slink away to the kitchen. Instead of having my head rammed repeatedly into the headboard, I'll make 6 million lbs of sweet potato gnocchi. If that's not a sign of sexual frustration, I don't know what is.

So while I'm elbow deep in flour, I really think about this situation.
We have been trying to have sex for almost a month now. Whole weeks have gone by where we have literally tried every night, and where the baby would immediately start crying, like he had some sort of anti-sex sensor embedded in his forehead. We would give up, or immediately stop what we were doing and tend to him, often times falling asleep together on the bed, cantankerous and defeated.
I am so lonely for Amanda that I have dreamt about sex every night since our last encounter. This must be what it feels like to be a 14 year old boy.

Yet still I declined her last invitation for some lovin. Why?
Well,  because I reasoned with myself, I am 110% absolutely fucking exhausted. But it's more than that too. Sex for me is like exercise, or an ice cold pool. If I keep it goin, it keeps on goin. If I put a stop to it, or it gets stopped by a needy first child, then dipping my toe back in becomes really hard. And It's not that I don't like sex. Anyone who knows Amanda and I can sometimes understand that we are too sexual with each other. I am certain I've seen some eye rolls and dirty looks from our friends. I get it, we're over the top. But we're in love. Still.

So what it boils down to, for me or any new mother is this....You're gonna get super fucking tired. You're gonna feel like jumping off a cliff instead of having sex sometimes, but don't say no! The first couple minutes, you might be cursing yourself, it might hurt a little because you'll be thinking about the strange noise the baby made earlier today, or whether or not Dish Nation will be another re-run.  But go with it. Try to power everything else down and give yourself over completely to your man.
Sex is something you can still do for you, separate from being a mother. (Even though that's likely how you became one)
Also, I know I can be kinda out of the 1940's sometimes but, you always want to make sure to take care of your honey so they don't look outside of your dirty, baby furnished home for some love.
You fell off the horse, get your ass back on...
And Amanda, if you're reading this....come home...

Gisele and the Mighty Boob

The world has gone mad. Well. We already knew that.

I can't help but to notice all of the hype about this picture of the gorgeous, thin and rich Gisele Bundchen.

It's an okay photo I guess. There could be a lot of meanings behind it. Vanity. Pride. Someone who wants to show off all of the servants she has. I don't know, and I don't really care.

But What I have discovered is that there is a great amount of people in the media and otherwise who hate when woman breastfeed. It makes them uncomfortable and insecure.

Just catch up on some of the things that have been said regarding Gisele's photo...


"I think breastfeeding is a very personal thing,"  
 "And for her to put this on Instagram while she's getting her hair and make-up done is a little outrageous, and I think obnoxious." ABC NEWS & Denise Albert, co-creator of TheMoms.com

opinionsmatter 

• 20 hours ago

"Oh please, life is so rough !
I don't find that it's necessary for us to witness her breastfeeding. That's something that should be done in PRIVATE." INAGIST.COM

Even Wendy Williams, an influential daytime TV talkshow host feels similar.

"It's something I don't care to see, but I realize it's natural"

And this is not uncommon. I have noticed that almost anywhere I go, even to the houses of certain un named family members, I always get an uncomfortable grimace if I breastfeed my son, or a anecdotal story about "formula feeding back in my day"

Who says your elders are always right?

Astonishingly enough, it seems like it's the women who really take offense. The men usually see it as an order of business and get on with what they're doing, unless they're close enough to sneak a peek at a huge, milk engorged booby. The men smile warmly. They pat my back or rub my arm. Ask if I'm eating the right foods, if I'd like a glass of water.
The women stay a hundred feet back, like I'm a siren wailing ambulance, or my naked boob and I have the plague. They tell me stories of how they couldn't breastfeed, didn't have time, had no education on it.
The funny thing is, I don't really care. Your baby your choice. My baby my choice. There's nothing wrong with formula feeding. I just don't choose to do it.
I just wish someone would tell me why there is such a negative feeling surrounding breastfeeding? Don't act for a second like there's not. I can feel it like a force field. I can already sense the way this blog will be perceived. Un-wad your panties girls, I'm not saying I'm more right than you.
Is it like pilates? Good for everyone, but no one wants to do it?
Do women view it as an exclusive club?
Do I seem snobby because I breastfeed?

Jace's whole life, the majority of people I have talked to have tried to push formula on me. Why?
I want someone to step up and tell me what it is.
I can make my own conclusions, but I'd like to hear it straight from the horses mouth.
What is it about breastfeeding that makes the majority of women so uncomfortable?

                                Me & Jace. No glorious hairstyle. No mile long legs. No Waitstaff.

Me Time

If you're like me, and you have a baby who only binge sleeps every couple days, you want to take advantage of that time.

It always starts the same. With a marathon "Crying, I can't be put down, I want to nurse for an hour" situation, and then his little arms fall limp, and his little mouth hangs open, and I have to feel under his nose to make sure he's still alive. Because he rarely sleeps.

Then I rock him and rock him until I'm sure he's good and out, and then I slowly lower him into his swing, and off of my arm,  like a teenage magician trying to pull out a table cloth from under fine china.

I turn his swing on warp speed and back away slowly.

IT'S MEEEEEEEE TIMEEEEEE...

Most days I clean the house, or organize cupboards. Some days I shower, or read a month old magazine.

Other days, when I'm feeling lazy and self righteous, I slip on my pillowy terry cloth robe, and act like I am pretty woman in the pent house. Without the whore part.
I belly up to the mirror and with a fistful of concealer, dab away the bags from my eyes. I shade my lids in metallic earth tones, and dust blush over my cheek bones.
I feel lovely.
So I pose for a few bathroom mirror-white robe glamour shots. Which are totally badass. Then I take a few mental pictures.

Boom!!

When I'm done with that, I poke my head out of the bathroom door like a mere cat and make sure the baby is still sleeping happily away. I don't feel done quite yet, so I work on my toes. It's totally important to paint my toenails. It's winter in Michigan, so I never take my socks off. Except for to sleep. I hope my sheets like the look of turquoise piggies, because they are the only ones who will see them. 

"I need this" I tell myself. "I have to look amazing while I stay inside to take care of the baby all day"

I don't know about you, but it makes me feel better. 

Make up: Check!

Painted toes: Check!

What else do I love that I can't do while the baby is awake? Oh yeah...EAT! 

So I float past my little sleeping sweetheart in the living room and look into the fridge like a homeless man against the window of a fine restaurant. I've become weird about food. Because I never get to eat when I feel like it, I will now eat side dishes like they are entrees, and I will be totally cool about it. 

So I break into a vat of sweet potatoes, and dump in a half pound of feta cheese. It actually tastes pretty fabulous. Gotta post that shit on Facebook. 

Why is it, anytime I bring food to my mother in law's, it comes back untouched? They totally love me. Just not my food apparently. 

Even though the baby is still sleeping, I eat my food like I'm in a pie eating contest, or I'm full of jet fuel. It's just become a bad habit of mine. I really wish I could break it. 

It feels so awesome to have a full belly. It feels so awesome to have some down time. Even though the house is a mess. 

"I need this" I tell myself again, as I stretch out onto the couch. I rub my legs back and forth over each other and lay my head down to rest. My body starts humming with the effervescent twighlight of sleep. 

I nod out in less than 7 seconds, no shit. 

As soon as I do, Jace wakes up. He's well rested and ready to rock and roll. 

I have a small temper tantrum inside of my head.

It's then I realize maybe today, my priorities are juuuuust a little skewed. 

Lessons in Etiquette

This post is really important to me. It's important that you read it, and maybe try to apply it to your line of questioning next time you run across an LGBT couple with a baby in tow.

We all know Amanda wasn't able to literally get me pregnant. It's a very sore subject for us, and probably for any queer couple because neither of us could have wanted anything more. I have always been in love with Amanda since the day I met her, and like most people who know her, I don't really see her as a woman. It even catches me off guard sometimes when people call Amanda "She" "Her" etc. Because she radiates manly habits. Because like any other husband, she doesn't listen when TV is on. She also lets the trash pile up in the can until is spills over, so I will take it out. So she doesn't have to. Typical male jerk.
If you don't know Amanda, you probably know someone who fits her exact description. Mens clothing. Mens attitude. Can fix cars and make all the girlies blush.

In order to have a baby who was related to us both, we used a donor from Amanda's family. Some queer couples choose to use an anonymous donor from a bank. Either way, it breaks my heart that Amanda would even for a second feel left out, or bad about herself that she couldn't get me pregnant.

Well, technically she did. She's got a hell of an aim. But you can figure that one out for yourselves.

So. My point in all of this rambling is this. Stop asking questions about the donor to any of your lgbt friends or family. Act as if said donor does not exist. Do you think either Amanda or I, or any queer couple wants to constantly be reminded of the fact that they had to use a donor? No, man. If we want to talk donor to you, we will. That's our choice. It's just not polite for you to bring it up first.

Also, it doesn't matter if the donor had the same color hair, the same chin, or the same sleeping habits. The donor is not working mind numbing hours to raise the baby. The donor does not experience every first smile, first step, first word. The donor doesn't love the baby. Amanda and I do. We are his parents. Just the two of us. No one else.

Family and friends, I implore you to make your "Amanda-esque" friends feel warm and comfortable and accepted as the father role in the baby's life. Because she is.

I'm pretty certain she will even let him get away with everything behind my nervous mommy back. And although it will make me angry at the time, it's totally acceptable, because that's what daddies do.

One last tip. Please don't just assume we both want to be called mommy. Because in fact we do not. Amanda is not a mommy. It also shouldn't confuse you. It is what it is.
Ask politely what the homo couple in your life would like to be called before you just assume. Because they've already painstakingly worked it out.

Ok. For real one last thing. When said couple tells you what they'd like to be called, keep your fucking comments to yourself. If you don't, you have every right to be kung fu sucker punched in the nose. No one cares about your opinion.

Just. Be. Curtious. After you get all of that out of the way, you will never have to stumble over your words again. And life can go on normally for all of us.

This has been your PSA for today. Goodbye.