I used to be one of those people that joked about those people that take the trouble of recycling.
I’m not even kidding, you guys. Doing something “for the environment” was about the absolute last reason I ever would have done anything. Not because I hated the environment or anything, I just thought that sounded like a silly reason.
Then, I got married. And then we were pregnant.
My cool cousin (Hi, Katy!) was a few months ahead of me with her own baby, and I started seeing Facebook posts and baby shower lists with cloth diapers.
Well, I thought, that’s brave.
Then I started seeing the cloth diapers.
Such cute diapers.
I looked. I started googling. I started harassing the ever-gracious and extremely knowledgeable Katy with questions. I got my interest piqued.
Then I realized I didn’t have a washer or dryer.
So I chickened out.
Then, we got a washer. And my awesome in-laws gave us a dryer.
I looked again. Such cute diapers. Googled more. Went back to Katy. Stalked Facebook cloth diaper groups. Ran the numbers. Such cute diapers. I ogled the diapers. I got my hopes up.
Then I got overwhelmed. So! Many! Choices!
So I chickened out again.
Then, a sweet friend gave me a set of diapers, because they just didn’t turn out to be the right setup for her and her kiddos.
That was it. It was love. They were so cute. And they were free! I had the beginning of my very own stash, (that’s what cloth diaper-ers call their diapers. Their “stash.” In case you were wondering how weird we really are) and I wanted to go all in.
I put cloth diapers on my registry. I kept stalking the Facebook groups but now I was also stalking sales and re-sale groups.
By the time Miss A arrived, I was out of my mind excited to get her in cloth. And, when she was a few weeks old, we did. And I love it.
Such cute diapers.
The diapers were only the beginning. I found myself getting crunchier and crunchier.
Maybe I should explain this word, “Crunchy.” I have been informed that there are three stages of hippie
weirdness behavior, from least to most: Yuppie, Crunchy, and Granola. I might be able to vaguely explain their general origin but the main point is that from the outside, they all look crazy …ya know. Weird.
From the inside, there’s pretty much ALWAYS somebody crunchier-than-thou. Somebody more “Granola.”
Once I realized I had somehow drifted into this strange world, I considered myself on the Yuppie side of the Crunch level. Al dente, you might say. Not in too deep.
Well, sure, I told myself, sure you can cloth diaper. You will still be relatable. Normal people will still talk to you. I mean, it’s not as if you were walking around with matted down unwashed locks and not wearing deoderant and FERMENTING THINGS. You are not so bizarre and you can totally still relate to The Real World.
So I told myself.
Umm, you guys – I made shampoo. Alex loves it. And he doesn’t look too matted down or unwashed yet. I think. Unless I have totally lost my relatable-ness, or whatever. . I mean, I super don’t want to talk about deoderant with you, but if you start asking questions I guess we can talk mineral salts or something.
And about fermenting things…
I don’t want to be that Annoying Environmental Person Who Only Talks About the Environment. Gosh, I do not want to be that person. I just realized I find things interesting that I never thought much about before, and the more I learn the more fascinating I think it is and…stuff kinda happened. I like it. I like being crunchy. I don’t know what official level I qualify for, but it’s fun. It’s working for us right now. And I do like talking about it, which brings me to the point of all this: it might get crunchy up in here, y’all. Just to warn you. But I never mean it as some kind of manifesto or judgement or anything remotely like that…I’m just having fun and wanting to share it.
Might even be funny sometimes.
Aww, come on. You know you want to hear all about my diaper sprayer and my probiotic ketchup. *wink wink*