The most beautiful lullabye
Bye and bye, bye and bye
The moon’s a slice of lemon pie
The mice who ate the other half
Have scattered star-crumbs in the sky
Bye and bye, bye and bye
My darling baby, don’t you cry
The moon is still above the hill
The soft clouds gather in the sky
— From Laura Krauss Melmed’s The Rainbabies
Vegetables are your friend
In the spirit of the new year, Darling Husband and I — and most people we know — are in a flurry of let’s-eat-healthier-and-get-more-exercise.
It’s a nice thought, and honestly, I get very healthy-keen every few months, but it only lasts about a week. Then the cookie dough re-enters my life, chewy morsel by chewy morsel.
I’m not a horrible junk foodie, but the second I feel deprived of something, the whole world seems evil. I mean, don’t I deserve such a small happiness? Life’s too short, yada yada.
This year, however, feels different — and yeah, yeah, I know that’s what they all say.
This year, Darling Husband has re-joined the gym, and is afraid of his trainers. They do regular weigh-ins and waist measurements, and because he loves/respects these muscle men, he is determined not to disappoint them.
For a man who believes gummi candy is healthy if it’s fruit-shaped, this is unbelieveable.
Darling Husband has his motivation — not disappointing the Big Strong Trainers — and I have mine: getting healthier for the impending preggosity.
I’d like to get in better physical shape — i.e. get some exercise that doesn’t revolve around necessary things like dog-walking and stair-taking. I also want to eat more vegetables — I’ve heard it’s recommended — and more milk, etc.
Oh, and my doctor has been pushing Folic acid for years, like a … well, like a pusher! I told him, years ago, that I wasn’t planning on getting pregnant for a while, but he was like “Ohh, take it anyway!” Does he get a cut?
Anyway, I do have it, and I am going to take it. Maybe even some kind of regular vitamin. God knows I haven’t had any since the Flintstone ones.
I’m not too sure if most people try to “get healthy” beforehand, but I figure it can’t hurt. Then perhaps my future kidlets will have less of the McNugget gene.
Diaper duty
As a kid born and raised in the 80s, I wore disposable diapers. When I got older and began babysitting, all of those kids wore disposable diapers. I love patting a baby’s butt to get that crunchy, plasticy Pampers sound through their sleepers.
But now, somehow, I am hearing lots of talk about cloth diapers. Better for the planet, better for the baby, blah, blah. I only paid attention when I heard how they were much, much cheaper than disposables.
Since Darling Husband and I are not mega-rich — as in, there is a good chance our baby could end up wearing empty Cheeto bags with leg-holes — I was intrigued.
I did a bit of searching and saw that these are not the white-handerchief-fastened-with-a-safety-pin kind of diapers I was picturing — which I probably got from various cartoons. The new ones are made of fleecy-looking fabric, and have snaps and ruffles and cute patterns.
I like! I like! Tell me more!
Mommies and Daddies with lotsa cash can hire diapers services that pick up the dirty ones and drop off clean ones, but for the rest of us, here is how it appears to work:
I’m sketchy on the details, but it looks like you take the poo-diaper, take off some kind of pad, swish it in the toilet to get the poo off — or something equally gross — and then put it in your washing machine.
And you would wash all of the diaper pads together, as not to poo-ify your clothes, towels, etc. And then you dry the diaper pads, and they are good to be re-used. Moms, does that sound right?
It definitely seems less expensive than the Pamper/Huggies route, because even the kid-less know that disposables are costly. If you buy cloth diapers, you are spending much less, but have to factor in laundry costs, extra work, etc. Sadly, though, you don’t get the cute crunchy pat-pat sound.
I am leaning towards the cloth route — for the cash factor, not so much into the tree-savin’ — for home, but using disposables for travel/going out, etc.
I am not sure what you would do with a fouled cloth diaper in the middle of the mall, but the idea of somehow transporting it home does not sound pleasant …
Hey! I’m Heather.
Heather Laura Clarke
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