Friday, 25 September 2009
Eco Versus Freako
Well, Mamas and any other person reading who deems themselves a responsible adult trying to do the best for your brood and the world at large--BE WARNED!!
I am a reader of some lovely, informative, funny and witty blogs. I have friends in the real world who also fit into that category (shockingly, as my husband seems to think I spend all my time on HERE)! But some blogging ladies ARE also Real Friends..so the two are blurred in a lovely way and I envision us as a circle of wise women, sharing their thoughts/ideas/feelings/advice with others through the goodness of their hearts and the fun of it all (and Microsoft).
So here I am, perusing away-laughing, reading, learning, admiring...and along the way I am learning quite a lot about how to be more gentle with the earth (please do not be picturing me in flowing gypsy skirt, hemp sandals and surrounding incense smell). I really just loved the idea of reducing the useless stuff in our everyday life as a family. Anyone would think that was a good idea, right? A clear-out, some frugal living, and a simpler, happier lifestyle for all.
Maybe if I had married him or him, that would be a-okay. But I am married to him. And he has issues with things that cause more than the usual effort/are a bit unorthodox/mean you may come into contact with some bodily fluid. Please do not ask me to re-tell the story of Mr D and Mini D's first poo..lets just leave it "at scarred for life".
So when I mentioned recycling more..it was not too bad, we got (reused!) big ole containers sorted out for the job (picture Mr D nicking Tesco's delivery crates after dark in full face helmet).
Segregation began in earnest..we realised we were saving loads and loads of space in our wheelie bin by taking our stuff to the "recycling placey" (Mr D language). It was all good. Until I opened 1-the shed 2-the boot of the car and 3-the hall closet. If I were a swearing person, now would be the place.
Needless to say, I am now Head Of Recycling. And composting (the little food-scrap box in the kitchen is usually placed by the front door when it needs to be emptied into the big composter outside..one day I thought, I've not emptied it, maybe Mr D has as it keeps moving away from the door and back to kitchen. Mr D- "I wondered why on earth it kept turning up by the door. Silly place for a scrap box. I thought Mini D was just using it as a play shopping basket so I kept putting it back for you".) You get the jist.
So my new venture was the Handmade Challenge-met fairly well, except you can't get handmade PS2 games or specialist car polish or iPhones on etsy. So this is what Mr D is getting for Christmas. I will make it myself.
I thought long and hard about the argument for and against toilet paper-yes, you are hearing me correctly-and thought it may be nice to use cloth wipes for Number Ones (possibly just me and Mini D-I'm a reasonable woman). I mean, cloth wipes for babies, what's the big deal? They'd go in my laundry basket, in a (very cute) smell-proof wet bag and get tipped in to wash with everything else. Gentle, thorough (!!) and no chance I'd ever be repeating the 12 week pregnancy/gyno exam scenario again (picture Nurse and Mr D in tears of laughter as I am asked if I minded her "just removing the stray bits of toilet roll" with her gloves before we began!!!! )
Mr D was approached by me the other night (NOT in that way) about the no-toilet-roll scenario. He blinked.
"What on earth are you on? Have they upped your medication?"
"What were you picturing the used bits of material-"
"It's called a Family Cloth, Mr D."
Eyes wiped, breath back, he continued.
"What would they be chucked into? If people came round would it be in a pile in the bathroom or what?"
Deep breaths and Patient Mummy voice on.
"No, there are lots of options, like ceramic jars with essential oils to prevent smells.."Mr D hears essential oils and thinks this."..or I saw one post about an old yogurt container with an X cut into the top-"
At this point I think I reached for the phone to call NHS 24 as Mr D was no longer able to breathe, tears were running down his face and he was turning purple.
The final topic before bed was cloth pads (no) and then the Moon Cup. I am actually very keen on this side of things, as I don't like tampons for what they're made of. However I am not a Pad Girl, so this sounded like a great plan. I ordered it, got it delivered, sterilized, worked out the ways of it..and presto. I love it.
Telling Mr D about this, I mentioned that it isn't really very far in, just a bit as it does the job very adequately positioned just inside. Have I mentioned Mr D hates bodily fluids? Blank look again. Mouth open.
"Just inside..so....your 'bits' look like a mouth with an orange quarter in them?"
I will end there in the hopes that you are not mortally offended by my honest rantings and that you will not unsubscribe!!! I vow to be less graphic next time. And no, I am not carrying any citrus fruits down below.