I was working on a recap of our Triduum for this week’s seven quick takes but why settle for something holy and lovely when you can read about poop? I know what the people want.
I enjoy using cloth diapers. Really, I do! You can put your pitying looks away! Sure, I hate that every other day I have the revelation that, dangit, is it Diaper Day again? but we do it for the savings and I’m always amazed at how expensive disposable diapers are when we buy them to go on trips. That moola for two weeks worth of diapers is two trips to Chick-Fil-A, our gourmet date night of choice! Our use of cloth diapers also gets us free crunchy points, which are measured in Wendells, as in “the Moby-wearing mom at the library story hour noticed my baby’s giant diaper butt and it earned me fifty Wendells when I said I’d check out her sister’s Etsy shop where she sells handmade wool pants”. Never mind all the water that we should be shipping off to my home state our (slightly against our lease) apartment washing machine uses and that each of our prefolds has a “Made in Pakistan” tag, surely indicative of totally legit labor practices. Instead, think of all those disposable diapers, sitting idly in landfills, and all those parents without the extra dose of mortification of the flesh spraying a cloth diaper provides. Feeling superior yet? Me too.
Let’s take this one step further and apply some James K.A. Smith cultural liturgy language to changing a diaper! Changing our children’s diapers brings us up close and personal with our fleshly nature. It prevents gnosticism and confronts us with the Incarnation…
Totally kidding. It’s poop. Let’s not baptize it.
For those not in the know, I should point out that we don’t just throw the dirty diapers into the washing machine full of their, um, deposits. The extra step in changing a poopy cloth diaper includes a diaper sprayer (here is one on Amazon, par exemple) hooked up to the toilet to aid in ridding yourself of that unpleasantness. It’s like power washing your driveway but way more disgusting. The worst part is WRINGING OUT THE EXTRA WATER IN THE DIAPER before it goes in its designated bag and
festers sits patiently until it is washed. We have been cloth diapering for a year and I still shriek when I squeeze the sewage water into the toilet. So I try to ignore the poopy diaper as long as possible.
Now, duly informed, I give you the Mooney Model of cloth diaper usage, or the seven stages of poopy diaper grief.
1. Denial: “What’s that smell? Are the neighbors making baked Brie again? Oh. Probably just residual from last time, right?”
2. Attempt to impose arbitrary rules on the situation: “Maybe my ‘he who smells it deals with it’ principle will finally catch on. Let me just lure Christopher to Chris’ desk…”
3. Speculation as to the cause: “Should we be feeding him more bananas? Is this the mango’s fault? Why does he enjoy beans so much??”
4. Anger: “Didn’t he just go yesterday? We shouldn’t have fed him so much sweet potato. What were you thinking, Yesterday Julia?”
5. Bargaining: “Chris, if I change this diaper, will you spray it?”
6. Depression: “This is my life now. I am the excrement queen. My crown is made of microfiber inserts and regret.”
7. Acceptance: “Sigh, fine, I’ll change him.”
Motherhood: full of joy.