The Diaper Chronicles

Okay Moms (and Dads, let's face it, Dads are much more involved now than ever before, but more on this in just a minute), here's the perennial 'green parent' litmus test: What diapers do you use?

I've been using Seventh Generation diapers. They're absorbent and really the only difference between these and regular disposables is the color - they're unbleached. That and they're BIODEGRADEABLE. Recently, however, I've started using the g-Diaper - the "not cloth, not disposable" diaper - intermittently with the Seventh Generations for Myer. Rory isn't totally weaned off diapers, either - he insists on wearing pull-ups overnight, and he's too big for the Seventh Generation ones.

Lots more choices for little ones now in this newly eco-everything age. (I do not recommend Tushies brand. And I love Diapers.com - delivery right to my door every couple weeks is convenience that can't be beat... though upon further reflection, I suppose I get 'dinged' for the packaging that online ordering requires.) According to Grist, the cloth vs. disposable question is a wash, and the "bring-your-own-bag" solution to this one? Diaperless parenting!

Alas, Myer will never be a purely 'g-baby' because preschool requires disposables.

I have found the little g's not as absorbent; two nights in a row I've had to deal with accidents in bed in the wee hours of the morning. And Matt can't change a g-Diaper to save his life, more than one step and snaps?! Forget it - not that he's changing diapers anyway...

So picture this, it's 8:30 am Tuesday and I'm already 'at work' on our regular staff conference call. Matt is getting the boys ready for school, trying to get Rory's teeth brushed (who is playing with his cars and not even remotely headed in the direction of the bathroom) with Myer kicking happily on the floor in his little khaki cords that I've dressed him in for the first time.

M (yelling in stressed voice): Joey! I need you!

J (lifting off phone ear piece, fearing worst): What?

M: Come here! Myer had a blow out.

J (stomping off to living room, mumbling incoherently underbreath): What? I'm working!

M: Myer had a blow out.

J (nonplussed, thinking been there done that): What, you can't change a diaper?

For a split second I contemplate putting finger to nose in universal "not it" gesture. Looking down at baby son, who is rolled over on tummy and happily kicking, I see the familiar ocher substance the consistency of slime all up and down his back but contained in the onesie.

M: I need you to hold him up off the floor.

Perhaps it's not fair to judge hubby so harshly, I mean blowouts are very stressful no matter how many diapers you've changed. More to the point, I would like to know how this situation would have been handled had I not been available. Perhaps one might have retrieved a towel from the bathroom, or simply changed baby and clothing in the tub. Granted, the bathroom is all the way at the other end of the hall.

Needless to say, everything and everyone cleaned up just fine. And just for the record, I love you, Honey, I really doo-doo!