Someone Else is Living Your Parisian Dream

Max has been burning holes into my food this last week, engaging in stare downs with my bread, fork, chopsticks, or beverage glasses as they travel from the table to my lips. At the Jardin de Luxembourg over the sunny weekend, he took a swipe at my ice cream cone so I held it to him and rubbed his face in it. That’ll teach him.

Just kidding, CPS.

I brought it to his lips to see if he was really interested, and he opened his mouth. I touched it to his lower lip, and pulled it away. Mama’s a tease. He grabbed my wrist to bring it back.  I put the tiniest morsel of bread in his mouth the other day and he smack, smack, smacked on it happily. Not so popular was a tiny drop of Badoit on a spoon where he tried his hardest to shove his whole hand into his mouth to pull out the flavor. His favorite so far? An edameme pod that I let him suck on for a second or two. I pulled it away before he could possibly break the pod, surprised with a pea sliding down his throat. He screamed for it. I think that the texture of the pod may have been soothing for his gums.

While I know that the only nourishment he needs at this time is breastmilk, I’m loathe to deprive him of explorations when he seems to be so desperately interested in everything I’m eating.  I made a special trip to the store for a box of rice cereal, referring to my well worn dictionary to make sure that I wasn’t buying a box of vanilla pudding. I also picked up a box of what I believe to be teething biscuits because…..he’s showing signs that he’s beginning to teeth. Hopefully, they’re not dog biscuits.

Lastly, as I explore eco-diapering alternatives, I (easily) resisted a pack of 42 eco-diapers for 24.20. The lining must’ve been woven from silk, and the box may have come with a resident silk worm.  Even Green has a price tag attached to it.  It’s usually pretty big.

* * * * *

At a party the other night, a woman wouldn’t shut her hole about how she couldn’t “believe how BIG he is!” Because he is “so big” because her daughter is 8 months old and Max is “so big” she couldn’t “believe it.” I was distracted by the gauntlet of people who were looking into the stroller as I tried to usher my big sleeping baby into the corner. Had I had just a second to stop and exchange with her, I would’ve said, “Oh - my husband is pretty tall guy.” And when she remarked for the 80th time within 30 seconds about my HUGE BABY, I could’ve said, “Well, both you and your husband are a little small…” I really love it when comebacks come to mind 4 days later.  Mono y mono in the parking lot when he wakes up.  My kid.  Your husband.

* * * * *

I think that Max is beginning to either: get shy around new people; throw tantrums, or react to his instincts when he doesn’t like certain people. We left that same party like thieves in the bright 10pm night, after his bedtime and while the loud voices (American party, My Husband pointed out, helpfully) and Max screams sliced into our ears and through our brains, causing my stressed heart to palpitate unnaturally. Once out of the building, he quieted immediately and I convinced myself that it was okay to keep my bazillion pairs of 3 inch heels because one day…one day, I will go to a party again in shoes so hot that there’s no way they be comfortable. And the top? While it looks as if it is ‘easy access’, it won’t be one made for easy breastfeeding. It’ll be slutty just for the hell of it.

Quite a while ago, in 2006 B.M (before Max) I wrote somewhat at length about a revolutionary eco-option to the diaper dilemma - The gDiaper. I couldn’t wait to get my baby in them. And then I did, finally.

And he was not only insanely cute, but using them made me feel clean…and I washed my hands of the guilt of ….um… filling landfills with disposal diapers, which have a lifespan of upwards of 500 years when soiled.

Researching cloth was what initially brought me to the gDiapers solution, as I scoured the Internet in search of information on cleaning cloth, water usage in particular. While I was aware of water shortages and like issues, it didn’t help that I recently shared a taxi  to the airport with an expert on water, who told me that when cities become overcrowded, people think about parking and housing, but not about pottable water, which is…in dangerously short supply.  He was in Paris on business, having attended a conference on water infrastructure (or something like that?).  gDiapers sounded like the perfect in-between solution, requiring less water and detergents than cloth (and even less water still, if you compost the p’d on diapers) and of course, doing my little bit in not burdening the environment with more plastic.  And also, I’ll admit, I would probably let the diapers sit for longer than I really should….
But before I continue with this post, I need to part with a dirty little secret.

I’ve been using disposables, too.

Just so you know; I’m not speaking from atop my high horse here (who eats only organic).
Here’s why. At the moment, I’m using disposables because Max outgrew his Small sized gDiapers (approximately up 12 lbs), and they aren’t sold in France. I suppose I could have them shipped, but at a cost that already surpasses disposables, international shipping prices them uncomfortably outside of my range. And if we want to embark on a Greener conversation, the fuels to ship the diapers to me here…..not responsible. With that said, I have a near full case of pads and about 10 liners left in our cave downstairs. Maybe for number 2 eventually.

The Straight Poop

Very briefly, gDiapers are comprised of 3 parts:

1. Cute Cover (closes with velcro on both sides)
2. Lining (rectangular shape, snaps into the cover at 4 ‘corners’)
3. Pad (larger than the lining. reminds of a maxi pad, fits into the lining)

You can see this on the official gDiapers website; their video page.

We had several false starts with the gDiapers; thus, Max didn’t wear them regularly until he was about 1.5 months. The very first time that I tried, he had a blow out and a leak. These mishaps continued for the next 4 or 5 fittings until I put them away, frustrated that I couldn’t get them to work. I loved what they stand for; their (near lack of) footprint on the environment, and desperately wanted to use them. For several weeks, I used disposables, and then tried again. Again with the leaks. Put the diapers away. In the meantime, I was guilty each time I put a disposable diaper on my son, adding up the years of real estate I was occupying in landfill.

One day, as I sat nursing and web surfing, I went back to the gDiapers website wistfully, to see what was new, as I often did. I watched the mini-clip entitled All About Fit which, in the past, I had assumed was a video on the obvious. This time, I hung onto every word “Make sure the inside liner touches the skin.” and “Make sure the cover is tucked in around the crotch/inner thigh area.” The presenter also pointed out that the pad, which is larger than the liner, should be inserted so as to make the whole diaper form a ‘cradle.’ Armed with these ‘no brainers’, I pulled the gDiapers out again.

For the most part, as I trained myself to be diligent on these 3 points, we successfully avoided leaks about 98% percent of the time. Unfortunately, I had not summoned the courage to put Max in gDiapers at night, before he outgrew them.
Quickdraw

I didn’t have the opportunity to figure out a way to change Max quickly without swapping out the whole diaper, including the cover. The only negative point was that by the end of the day, his outfit was sometimes mismatched, as we left home with a light blue cover and came home in orange.

The ideal changing scenario is to open up the package and find only a dirty pad. That would necessitate only pulling out the dirty pad and replacing it. Still, because the pads must be tucked into the liner (remember that they are far larger than the liner), it takes some focus so as not have an edge hanging out (and onto the cloth cover). This takes a little time, but isn’t impossible.

If both the pad and liner become soiled (and this happened often for us), unsnap the liner from the cover (4 snaps. this also removes the soiled pad), and replace with new liner, which would ideally be preloaded with a pad already. This is a slow process.

As it turns out, I carried extra covers that were ready to go. For ease of use, regardless of whether liners and covers were soiled, I swapped out the whole unit before he had the chance to pee on me. Then I would take my time unloading the most recently used cover and liner.
I only had 4 diaper covers and 10 liners. I would advise 6 covers, and would ideally double up on each appropriate color (we have red, orange, blue, green), going up to 8.

Perfect for me. I’m gonna get more:

• They’re better for the environment. Compost the p diapers, flush others
• Cute
• No waste to landfills

Not perfect, but not a deal breaker:

• The website tells you to tumble dry the covers, but they will shrink.

• When tearing them open to flush, you may get poop on your hands.

• Not quick to change your child, even if you have a liner preloaded.

Other

• Liners may still appear stained after wash, if a blow out occurs. Don’t sweat it. Putting them out in the sun makes the stains disappear. Not sure why this is, but was very pleasantly surprised to discover perfectly white liners.

I’m waiting for my next US trip to repurchase sizes Medium and Large. And may eventually try using cloth in them as well, to make the pads last longer.

Dear Max,

I’ve packed up the last of your newborn clothes with some regret. Those little ‘6 month’ tags on the collars of your clothes are undeniable evidence that you are growing quickly. We’ve been hanging around together for 17 weeks now - I like the sound of that because really, it illustrates that just a few weeks ago, you were just what made me look fat, rather than a little boy who laughs and gets hysterical when you bounce on my lap with rubber knees and a faucet of stringy drool. Because we spend so much time together, I get to witness how your little brain processes things, and how your moods change through the day and with different activities. You’re definitely growing into a little boy and in this last month - between 3 and 4 - you’ve hurdled some huge milestones in your development.

I remember just in early April, when you figured out that kicking the structure of your playground or bassinet would make your toys swing, unable to reach them with your hands. Then I blinked, and noticed that you were simply able to reach up and grab touch them with the tips of your fingers. I blinked again, and last week and you had your legs perched against the top of the structure, over your waist. And you would sometimes tear them down rather eagerly. And when I blinked later still, you had your feet in your hands, while in a very unstable, and in a sitting position - the position in which Quasimodo’s mom left him in for way too long obviously, because look at him now. We make a great team and I make great Wing-Mom as you laugh and flirt with the sales girls - just like I was always an impressive Wing (Wo)man at the bars with friends. We stroke their ego I coo to you, “Are you flirting with the pretty girls, child?” As if on cue, your eyes crinkle and with laughter as your lips spread into a wide smile and giggles as if, “Oh Salesgirl, only you can make me giggle like this.“  While you might not ever get me a free G&T at a bar, the tickle in their biological clock makes them nice when I return things.  These days, that’s just as good.

* * * * *

It’s Mother’s Day in France. We began the day just the way I’ve come to appreciate, with a leisurely morning in bed; the three of us sleeping in, and goofing off and dozing back to sleep again. We celebrated with a dose of America at B.I.A where I had a burger with a vanilla milkshake. I hope that you grow up to appreciate a good burger on a toasted bun, able to identify ones that pretend to be a burger, plopped in in front of you with the bun already soggy and falling apart, so of course you need to eat it with a fork and knife - the wrong way. At the Jardins des Plantes, you cared mostly about the sway of the trees branches and leaves, but that’s mostly because we still keep you on your back in your stroller most of the time. That won’t last much longer though, as you’re trying your best to let us know constantly that you want some help standing or sitting, on those days when all you want to do is fondle your toes.

I catch myself at odd times feeling especially like A Mom. When I fold your tiny clothes. When I put your tiny socks on my thumb and wiggle them like finger puppets, realizing that these are real socks. When you’re startled by the prick of the needle, and you look to me for comfort, letting out a whimper as we lock eyes. And I actually do the job - I comfort you - because while you let out a short whimper, you’ve never cried. What feels most mom-like about that experience though, is that You. Look. To. Me. When I scrub the poop from your onesies with my bare hands and soap and really feel as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. At the same time though, this feels surreal - like playing house - because it seems almost wrong to be having this much fun.

There was a time not so long ago when I lamented the traveling that I wouldn’t be doing anymore. The career opportunities that I would jeopardize. The job I turned down when you were just two weeks old, in a twisted scheme of Murphy’s Law because I’d been looking for a job of that caliber for a year and half, and this one was initially created with me in mind specifically oh-what-a-cruel-cruel-world. The alcohol that I wouldn’t drink. The lifestyle change. I don’t think about those things anymore, rather, I’ve been racking my brain to create some travels with you. The jobs will come, and I will drink. This Saturday in fact. Its all working out in the end, and most importantly above all, I have you.

Today was a perfect day, and we’ve begun to take time for more of these, around your father’s work schedule. Leisurely mornings, a warm family bed, your hysterical laughter, a little slice of home and an afternoon walk; appreciating the present and building a future. There isn’t a better present than all of that, for me. I promise you, that while we’re not necessarily great gift givers or shoppers of little thrills, your father and I will spare no expense in providing the big thrills that cannot be contained in a box with a bow; your own keys to the world.

Love, Mom