Landfills

Today, I discovered these.

I realize that by posting this, someone will inevitably ask me if I'm with child or some such thing, but it's not so, I promise.  (And I promise that IF said event should ever occur again, those of you who read my blog (since you are, after all, my closest friends...and my mother) will know first.  Hopefully after I have figured it out for myself.  So maybe a close second.)  But, honestly, 99.99% of the women I know who are in committed relationships are preggers.  There's not a whole lot else going on in Internetland except burgeoning belly Facebook photos and discussions about whether the name "Bella" will forever have people associating her with twinkling overprotective men.  What the heck else am I supposed to have on the brain, I ask you, with that kind of propaganda floating around??  The world may tilt a little bit when all these freaking kids are born at the same time.

And now excuse me while I put away my soapbox.  I apologize to all the preggos out there.  You're very lucky and I'll be happy to babysit your kiddos whenever I can.  Back to the main point:

I took an admittedly convoluted route to get to this discovery.  It started with Kristen. This is my favorite mommy blog (probably because she's half Asian, and I have a thing for half-Asians), but lately she was doing this 30-day better-yourself challenge type thingy and it just hasn't been as interesting to read (because usually her posts involve her adorable children, her insane in-laws, her OCD husband, and many swearwords = much more entertainment for bored me). 

So, reluctantly, I've been gravitating toward Heather, who could in all fairness be THE mommy of mommy blogs.  Or at least the older sister.  And since she's not blogging fast enough to keep up with the insane amounts of time I have for internet browsing (don't ask...), I've been reading back in her archives.  I think I'm in the fall of 2010 by now, which is impressive, since she's very prolific.  Yes, I know, I have too much free time.  She takes these (really great) daily photos which usually have their own little blurbs, and she happened to post one about a CD that this daddy blogger had made to raise awareness for his stepson's syndrome (and I'm not at all ashamed to state that I don't recall ever having heard of it...that's what being away from primary care will do to you, I suppose).

Intrigued both by the syndrome and the gender of the blogger, I skipped on over to his blog, only to discover this beautiful series of photographs. 

As a sidenote: Oh, that we should all be so blessed with beautiful pregnancy genes.  All I remember of my pregnancy body is that my face became rounder than a person with Cushing's, and I couldn't fit into my favorite tshirts (and no, not because of my belly...).  Pregnancy definitely didn't strike me glamourously, in other words.

Thus ensnared, I started reading from the beginning of his blog, and lo-and-behold, his lovely better-half has a couple of posts dedicated to her answers to readers' questions.  She is probably much more interesting to his reading demographic than he is.  Probably because the majority of his demographic is women (I'm just postulating).  My own fascination for her can probably be explained by the fact that she's 1/2 Lebanese and 1/4 Japanese.  I can't help it, people, I was born this way. (In related news, I'm deliciously awaiting the arrival of a Lebanese-Persian-Cheyenne baby among all the other little packages the stork will be dropping off this year.  And thereby changing the climate.  And no, dear brother, I don't say "deliciously" because I eat babies.  So creeepy.)

Within one of these posts dedicated to her hotness, someone asked if she were still using Fuzzi Bunz for her 2-year-old.  Which, in turn, led to me googling them to find out what all the hubbub was about.  And THAT, my friends, is the circuitous road that led me here.  My Internet browsing is much like my thought pattern: pathological.

When E was born, trying to use cloth diapers probably would have pushed me over the edge.  As if changing his outfits every five minutes (due to various bodily emissions emerging to maliciously taint the innocent purity of Pooh Bear and the like) wasn't enough laundry for me to consider, add a bunch of nappies in the bunch and tell me I have to empty and wash them? I don't think so. 

In my next life, however, when I have another mini-me, and I am more put-together/organized/prepared/energetic/creative/joyful and never tired (see, this is why I call this my next life), I want to use these.  Call me a want-to-be hippy, tell me you can smell oatmeal, I can take it.  Because in this current life, I happen to enjoy being eco-friendly (in the few ways I'm not too lazy to do so), and take great joy out of the fact that my son and even my husband (hardbitten destroyer of Mother Nature that he was) have fallen in with this little personality flaw of mine.

Honestly, though, I think the fact that they come in different colors is what clinched it for me, though.

Next I'll be making my own baby food, and then you'll know I've really lost it.