This Is Not The Blog You're Looking For

Jedi mind tricks aside for now as they do not appear to be effective on small children. I'll try that again when they are teenagers.

I wanted to write my review of the diapers we've been trying. They are GroVia All In One diapers as pictured below:

I purchased two of these diapers from an excellent local shop, The Changing Table. I was able to contact one of the lovely ladies who runs the shop and meet with her in person to look at the diapers before buying. I was very excited to bring my first cloth diapers home and test them out on my 16 month old. I prepped them three times before putting one on my son and he went to sleep in that diaper. He woke up nearly 12 hours later without a leak and I was sold.

These diapers are made with organic cotton, with a booster sewn in and an extra snap-in booster for older babies and toddlers. They snap to adjust fit, and snap on the sides to close. I purchased biodegradable flushable liners for my diapers so that when poop happens I simply lift the liner out of the diaper and flush it down the toilet. No dunking and swishing required, and the diaper goes in the laundry.

GroVia has excellent customer service and their diapers come with a one year warranty. The downside is that these diapers are on the expensive side, so if you are on a budget like me you can either buy one or two diapers at a time until you have your stock, or save up and purchase one of the packages of diapers. Right now if you buy the 12 pack of these diapers on GroVia's website you get 10% off and free shipping.

The upside is that these diapers have an excellent resale value, and I mean EXCELLENT. I was hard pressed to find any used diapers on swaps for less than $20, and they sell fast. I'm completely confident that when we no longer need our diapers they will still be in good condition and I'll be making most of my investment back.

From what I've read, these diapers are comparable to Bummis Tots Bots diapers and BumGenius All In Ones, if you're considering it, check out some how-to videos on YouTube and see which ones you'd prefer.

Cleanliness is Next To...

I guess I know why I'm such a naughty girl, then.

I hate housework. Loathe it. Have I mentioned that before? I like having a clean house, but I would lose my mind if all I did during my waking hours was clean, and trust me that is what would have to be done for my house to be clean.

I think that children learn best by example in this case. My kids are lazy, though and they have started telling me to clean up after them. If they weren't sick right now I'd be making a lesson in chores. My daughter knocked over a pile of towels that I had just folded right out of the dryer and told me to pick them up. Since she spent all night vomiting and hasn't been able to eat anything today I let it slide just by telling her that she can't talk to me like that and that she needed to learn to clean up her own messes.

I think I'm too nice. I'm really a screwed up little person. I apologize to other people when no apology is needed and my oldest has started doing this. I drop something and he tells me he's sorry. Whoops.

In being too nice I've made my children a little selfish. They are highly demanding and equally lazy. If they don't want to do something it usually means a tantrum. I take on chores that could and should be accomplished by my preschoolers. It adds more stress for me, but I honestly don't think to make them do it until later. It is just habit for me to vacuum up the cereal they've smashed into my rug, and pick up the laundry they scatter everywhere, and put their toys away, and pick up their trash...

When I was a kid my dad was very strict. He had some pretty insane rules that to this day I don't really understand. We couldn't make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich using the wheat bread, cold cuts couldn't go on white bread. We had to use half a slice of cheese per sandwich. Yes, half, as in open a slice of Kraft Singles and fold it in half and put the other half back in the refrigerator. I remember a lot of shouting from the kitchen when this rule wasn't followed. We also weren't allowed more than one hot thing a day, no more than one bowl of cereal, and things such as Pop-tarts were strictly for my parents to eat and carried heavy punishment if we got into them. My husband remembers these rules, back when we were dating he helped me buy a mini-refrigerator that was kept in my bedroom closed and stocked with my food. I went from a size 0 to a size 4 after six months of dating him. My dad was always very frustrated with how quickly food was eaten, he refused to spend more than $100 a month on groceries for a family of five (but always had the latest computer technology as soon as it came out) and when I'd say I was hungry he'd take me to the kitchen cupboard and show me that there was still a can of condensed tomato soup in there. When he said the cupboards had to be bare before he'd buy more food he meant it.

So, its no wonder that I go to great lengths to keep food in my house and have a love of cooking and baking. We spend around $400 a month for groceries for our family of soon to be six, and even that amount limits options a great deal. But I refuse to have the kind of rules I grew up with. My kids eat more than cereal, peanut butter sandwiches, hot pockets and kool-aid. I'm lucky to have a daughter who loves fresh lettuce, carrots, broccoli, grapes and apples and boys who love fresh apples, oranges, grapes and strawberries by the barrel. My kids aren't likely to be anemic or have people spread rumors that they have an eating disorder. My kids are healthy, and providing them healthy options is worth the price.

I mentioned my dad and his rules on food to expand on why I think I've been raising lazy kids. My dad also had another rule called Spotless Day. Every Saturday in my childhood for as long as I can remember was Spotless Day, and my brothers and I were absolutely not allowed to do anything but clean, and clean until my dad said we could stop. I don't remember ever seeing my parents clean. I DO remember my dad throwing dishes, laundry, his shoes, and his empty bottles of Sunkist against the wall. I was raised feeling like a slave. I'm sure my brothers felt like that too. I'm sure my dad thought he was teaching us responsibility or something, but he did more harm than good. The message he sent was clear: When you're the adult you can be lazy and do what you want and eat what you want and make your kids do the housework for you. I was a very organized teenager, and I still have some OCD tendencies about cleaning, but I allow more clutter than I should simply because I hate cleaning so much and I feel guilty expecting someone else to do it for me. I barely even ask my husband to clean. My "plan" was always to grow up, get married, have kids and happily take care of my little family. I guess I thought I'd like cleaning more if I was doing it out of love instead of because I was forced to.

There's my problem. I think that part of me is so terrified that I'll do something to make my kids resent me that I have trouble finding balance. There has to be balance in raising kids, and it is a very delicate one. If I constantly ride them, they are sure to resent me for it, but if I am always doing everything for them they will never learn how to take care of themselves and be responsible adults.

If my dad is one extreme, my mother is the other. She rarely leaves her bed, and it has been that way for as long as I can remember. But she is my dad's polar opposite. She wants to baby everyone where my dad wants to push. My two brothers still live at home getting a free ride because my parents don't agree on where to draw the line. One of my brothers doesn't even know how to drive. He never goes anywhere, his life is the internet. He's even more of a hermit than my bedridden mother. I feel sad for them. Sure, free room and board, free internet and satellite television, free meals, free pain pills from my mom...but no life. At least one brother has a job. Hell, he makes more money than my husband by nearly half and has very little he's responsible for that requires his income. It kind of pisses me off actually. I think some financial obligations would do him a world of good. But I digress like my usual rabbit trailing self...

I guess the good thing is that I recognize behaviors in myself that could be setting my kids up for disaster. The hard thing is correcting them. For instance, I still apologize for things all the time, and so does my son. I don't even realize I am doing it until I notice him do it. Then I feel terrible for making him feel like the world is on his little shoulders and like every mistake that happens in front of him is somehow his fault. In my case it might be a good idea to remove the word "sorry" from my vocabulary for a while. I can go with the more formal "I apologize," when it is needed and bite my cheek every time I start with a "I'm so---" We'll see how that goes.

The Diaper Bag Conundrum

I've gone through a lot of diaper bags in the last four years. My first was a matching set of Eddie Bauer bags -  the daily tote and the weekender bag. Next I opted for a similar option for my second child and only daughter and bought a large and small version of a black bag with pink lining, and even tried one of those diaper bags that is made to double as a purse. Third we were gifted a diaper bag from Sears and bought another Eddie Bauer bag that was somewhere between the size of the small tote and the weekend bag.

The worst of these bags was the one from Sears. It looked big enough to hold things but the design was poor and nothing fit in the pockets, and its only closure was magnetic so when the bag toppled over, the contents spilled out. Second worst were the black and pink bags I bought for my daughter. They had NO pockets, just big totes with zipper tops. I always had to dig for what I wanted and frequently lost pacifiers through a hole that resulted when I tried to wash the bag thanks to all the milk that spilled in the bottom of it.

The Eddie Bauer bags were all the best, but none were great in my book. They hold up fairly well to a washing machine and they have pockets and adjustable straps, but the accessories are limited and they have the look of a bag made for a daddy, not a mommy.

So now that I've decided to cloth diaper the search is on for a good diaper bag. I did a Google search for bags made for cloth diapering parents and found some amazing handmade bags with matching wet bags for the dirty diapers and matching changing pads too. They're great because the whole thing can be thrown in the washing machine and look the same as it did before being washed. The downside is, of course, the price. They start at around $60 and go up from there. Since I'm the kind of gal who struggles to pay more than $20 for any single item, I'm pretty sure the handmade cloth diapering bags aren't for me.

I'm afraid for what I'm looking for I'm going to have to lay down more cash than I'd like to. I have a long list of must-haves for my bag:

Must be large enough to fit enough diapers for a newborn and toddler, plus wipes, a wet bag for dirty diapers, a nursing cover, snack bags for 3-4 children, a bottle, sippy cup and possible juice boxes for the older two, a change of clothes for the newborn, a light receiving blanket, burp cloths, a changing pad, a pacifier pod, items to keep children entertained (teethers, toy cars, crayons) and preferably my phone, wallet and keys.

Must have a secure closure such as a zipper, no ties or magnetic closures.

Must be machine washable.

Must be small enough to not look like I packed my entire house up and carry it over my shoulder.

Must have an adjustable shoulder strap.

Must not look hideous!

Extras I would love: changing pad, wipes case, wet bag, pacifier pod, insulated bottle holder, hook for keys, external pockets and a million dollars. (Had to throw that last one in there.)

Have you seen a bag like that? Me neither. I'm not sure how I'm going to manage finding a diaper bag that holds items for four children and doesn't require me to also carry a purse.

My thoughts were interrupted by my daughter throwing up all over her bed, so since it has been two hours since I started this blog and I've been scrubbing a mattress, I'll leave it at that.

Back to Reality

I enjoyed my weekend. I usually do, provided we have limited to no plans and I get to sleep in. Saturday I helped with a garage sale and made a whopping six dollars. I spent the rest of the day in bed. Sunday morning I was greeted with coffee, soon followed by French toast made on brown sugar cinnamon bread. Yum. French toast is one of two things my husband can really cook. (The other thing is chicken fried rice.)

Instead of cut flowers I requested a plant, so we went to Lowes and I picked out an orchid. We were going to continue our outing with happy hour at Sonic and a trip to the mall but unfortunately my poor little 16 month old started projectile vomiting from his car seat. We think he was just overheated, he was fine after getting cleaned up and having a nap.

So instead of another family outing I went to the nearest salon and had a pedicure, then came home and we all attempted a nap followed by hours of lounging in my bedroom playing some good old fashioned Nintendo. When we finally got around to dinner I got chicken and broccoli, and after dinner the kids went to bed and my husband made me oatmeal raisin cookies and put in Avatar. He cheated and gave me a massage during the movie, but I'm not complaining.

Now we're back to reality. The kids and I slept in a bit because as usual they went to bed at 8 and weren't all asleep until after midnight. Two of them woke up crying at 3:30 but were easily calmed for a change. First thing I did this morning was walk outside to turn off the sprinkler; I think my husband and I are going to have a system where he turns it on when he leaves for work and I turn it off when I get up. Our poor hydrangeas prefer the morning waterings and I had been forgetting until the afternoon.

I'm debating a trip to the grocery store soon. We need to get groceries and I'm nearly out of laundry detergent, but I've got a "I want to be sleeping still" headache and it is supposed to reach 95 degrees outside today. By the time I get dressed and have all the kids ready it will be lunch time and I might melt if I get in a hot vehicle today.

I need to get a lot done this week because I don't have much longer that I can put things off. I'd love to have my entire house spotless when baby #4 is born because I always wind up spending my precious postpartum days cleaning when I should be resting. The first few days after giving birth I am both exhausted and full of adrenaline that makes it easy to forget sleep and fold laundry instead. My goal is one area of the house a week being deep cleaned while also maintaining the rest of the house. That should take seven weeks. We'll see if I can manage it.

Of course, I can't start doing much today unless I get out and get that laundry detergent...

The Countdown Begins

I got my weekly e-mail update from the What To Expect website letting me know I'm 30 weeks pregnant. This made me realize that if this baby follows the trend of my previous three he will be born in 7 or 8 weeks from now. Four paydays from now I'll probably have a newborn baby. Four paydays.

The four paydays is the part where I started really feeling a little stressed. There's so much to do here at home, lots of "little things" I need to buy, bags to prepare, a babysitter to locate for my other three kids.

Thankfully my list of absolute must-haves before the baby comes home isn't too long:

10-12 newborn cloth diapers
baby washcloths
wet bags to store diapers before washing
flushable inserts for the cloth diapers
extra laundry detergent and stain remover
paper plates and cups and plastic cutlery (so I don't have to do dishes right away)
easy fix meals and snacks
D batteries for the swing and bouncer, AA batteries for my breast pump (provided I can find it and it still works)
overlarge, lightweight blankets (double as nursing covers)
extra crib sheets and pack n play sheets
a Boppy pillow and covers
summer clothes for a newborn

I'm sure I'll think of more to add to that list, but those are the basic essentials to ensure I can be as much of a hermit as possible after bringing the new baby home. I think the most expensive thing will be the diapers, which is why I was hoping to find some to add to a baby registry. Unfortunately I don't expect to get much support from anyone about cloth diapering, and our usual gifts are packages of disposables. We'll probably use both.

Fortunately there are several things on my list I can pick up at my local Dollar Tree, and if I'm lucky I'll be able to sell some things at a garage sale this weekend. We have a ton of newborn boy clothes for a winter baby that I'm hoping I can turn into a decent stash of cloth diapers.

Now if this nesting will kick into full gear I can get my house clean. I hope.

Yes, Another Cranky Day

I have absolutely no, and I mean zero, patience today. None. Not a single bit.

Every little bit of cleaning I got done yesterday has been undone. Six, count them, six, loads of laundry, about half of which I had managed to fold has been trampled by kids who think it is funny to make me mad this way even though they are punished for it every time.

Every bit of food and drink I have provided has been thrown or spilled. I have heard "mom" every thirty seconds since I got up. The 16 month old has been hitting today, so the older two are screaming a lot and hitting too.

I put a sign on my front door that says my kids are sick and not to disturb because it is days like today when the neighbor boy and his grandmother will come asking to play. They never come on a day when my kids aren't screaming, my house is clean and everyone is dressed in something other than pajamas. I am not going to even bother getting out of my robe today, and yes I know it is almost lunchtime.

I'm mainly irritable because I am overtired and in pain almost from head to toe. Even 12 hours in bed for me only equates to about 5 hours of actual sleep. Every time something wakes me up it is another hour before I can go back to sleep, longer if I am awake because of a leg cramp or heartburn.

I had a bowl of cereal earlier. I don't know why I subject myself to that kind of pain. Every time I eat cereal and milk I have a severe toothache in the first bite that doesn't go away until I take the kind of painkillers that make me sleepy, and then it is just a dull throb until I eat or drink something again. Need another root canal, yes I do. What the dentists don't tell you when you go in for thousands of dollars of work is that you'll be back in a year when that tooth you got filled develops an abscess. They don't tell you that half the teeth you had work done on will need to be fixed again soon or that thanks to the teeth you had pulled the rest of your teeth have to work harder and thus decay faster.

If you haven't guessed, I have bad teeth. It goes all the way back to infancy and the photographic evidence I have that I was given Pepsi in my baby bottles. The first time I ever sat in a dentist's chair I was 17 years old and I was told I had significant decay in over half my teeth. I don't know what the point of going to that appointment even was because it isn't like anyone was going to pay for me to go back and get any of them fixed. No insurance anyway. My parents were strict about a lot of weird things like how many sandwiches we were allowed to eat in a day, but probably the strangest thing was that I am pretty sure all personal hygiene products had to be bought with my allowance. Regrettably I usually bought clothes or cosmetics and ignored the need for a toothbrush. My smile was falling apart, but it didn't hurt yet. Fast forward to the last five years or so when I've actually been fired from a job because I was bedridden from the pain. I got that lovely "We're letting you go," phone call when I was hopped up on painkillers and had a mouth full of gauze an hour after having my first extraction and pulpectomy. That hurt more thanks to the $700 cash it cost me.

In some ways you get used to a toothache, and the only time it really becomes unbearable is when you bite into something hot/cold/crunchy/hard/sticky and irritate an inflamed nerve. Which some days is basically every time you eat. Days like today make me wish I had all my teeth pulled, but then again who wants to be in dentures before the age of 30? I can't afford a root canal on every tooth, and there is certainly no way I could afford tooth implants. So what happens instead? I wind up making an emergency trip to the dentist when the pain becomes a constant and I beg them to pull the tooth because an extraction is the cheapest option even if it does cost me $400.

Bottom line, folks, is take care of your teeth. Buy your kids a toothbrush for goodness sake and force them to use it. Don't skip routine dental check-ups, they are much less money than root canals. Unless of course you want to know what it feels like to be in so much pain you are willing to shove the blade of an ice skate into your mouth to knock out the offending tooth. (Ever seen Castaway?)

So yeah, I'm cranky today. And tired. And pissed off in general with my past self for not buying a damn toothbrush.

Why Do I Even Bother?

I am seriously at a loss to understand how any mother out there keeps a clean house. Seriously. It is a real hit on my self esteem every time I walk into someone else's immaculate house and then come home to mine.

We have a lot of crap. That's probably part of it. People always seem to see us as that needy family that needs all of the junk that they couldn't sell in their last garage sale. We're the family that gets boxes of random expired cans of pie filling when someone else cleans out their pantry. We get hand-me-down clothes for our kids that are usually ratty and look like they were bought in 1970, not to mention that they don't fit. A visit to my husband's grandmother's house no matter how short always results in her shoving as much stuff on us as possible. The woman has even given my husband his grandpa's old underwear. Granted, the rest of the family tends to drop things off at grandma's house to give to us needy people. Part of being the black sheep and being married to someone who doesn't know how to control the info train means everyone and their dog knows every time we are low on money. They dare not actually help by sending money because, as I said, we are the black sheep and us heathens might spend their money on all that booze we're always drinking when we neglect our kids. We even get hand-me-downs as gifts, I suspect maybe because they worry that if they gave us something new we'd take it back to the store to exchange for something they wouldn't approve of us having.

We don't often have someone give us something new or useful. I always appreciate it when someone drops by and happens to have grabbed some dish detergent or baby shampoo at their last trip to the store, but I don't carry the same sentiment when we get expired food and items that look like they came out of the trash. To me it says a lot about what a person thinks of you if they use you as their own personal dumping spot for things they no longer want and expect you to be over the moon with their generosity. We're not so hard off that we can benefit from that expired pie filling any more than you could, and if you think the homeless need it shame on you. Throw away the outdated garbage, recycle the cans and donate the five cents to your local rescue mission if you really want to be helpful.

Of course I blame myself for being too nice when it comes to people like my husband's grandma pressing a box of grandpa's old clothes on us as we're trying to make an exit. At the time I'm thinking just take it and get the hell out of there and we can drop it by Goodwill later, but instead it sits in our car until we need the space, and then it comes in the house where the kids decide they want to play with the empty box. Then it winds up all over the floor and eventually in the laundry and the cycle begins again.

Between the mountain of laundry, broken toys and pantry full of things I can't make a meal out of I am overwhelmed. Every time I make a dent in one thing the others back up. My little natural disasters do their fair share to add to my stress. Every day my four year old argues with me over why he has to pick up the half eaten bowl of cereal that he left spilled on my floor, and during that argument my other kids are wreaking havoc somewhere else themselves.

I've considered buying those evil leashes you see attached to toddlers out in crowds. I'd use them at home and have them anchored into the wall to restrict my kids each to an area of three square feet. That'd probably be frowned upon, though.

As I write this my 16 month old is thrashing around and screaming at my feet because I have four times now removed him from digging in the garbage can. He had a solid two hour long tantrum this morning too, all I coul
d figure was that he wanted me to know that he hated anything and everything. Now he's screaming his displeasure that the netbook has a more prominent place on my lap than he does. He has gotten into a routine lately of waking at 2:00 in the morning just to scream. It makes me in part wish that pregnancy lasted a lot longer so I would have fully grown children before I had to be reminded again how annoying newborn babies are when you're getting two hours of sleep, but then the baby in my belly was laying on a nerve and I wasn't able to get back to sleep anyway so I decided he might as well be born when he's due.

I don't hate kids, I swear. I just need a break. Desperately. I need to get away from my kids AND out of my house and have someone else do the cooking and cleaning and take care of me for a change, and I very much need for my house to be clean when I wake up return from my dream vacation. I need to go a day without earsplitting screams, multiple requests for junk food, changing diapers, wiping noses, settling fights over toys, sticky fingerprints all over my things and an audience every time I use the bathroom. I'd like all of that without the judgement of other moms who have had the audacity to call me unfit. Not all of us have the sun shining out of our asses, some of us only feel that way with the aid of tequila and others would say that makes them better than us. Well they can bite me.

Now that I've wasted an hour writing an essentially useless blog and have one kid playing The Hamster Dance over and over while the other is poking his hamster with a stick, I think I'll log off for a while and save a hamster's life.

Prenatal Torture

The last 24 hours have yielded all sorts of unsavory side effects of being a mom and being pregnant. Last night it was heartburn, an upset stomach, excruciating sciatic nerve pain and frequent wakings overnight with a full bladder, kicking baby and the feeling that I had swallowed an apple core that had been soaked in acid and set on fire.

I was also none too thrilled with my children and their idea that it would be fun to wake up at 2:00 in the morning.

We all woke up at 6:00 this morning because I had my glucose tolerance test today. Just as I was getting ready to walk out the door and load my kids up in the minivan I caught a familiar whiff of yuck. No, it wasn't the one in a diaper either. It was my four year old son who has been out of diapers for over a year. The same four year old who had been asked if he needed to potty five minutes previously.

...yay.

So I made it to my appointment somehow only eight minutes late, drank down that sugar syrup, saw my midwife who pronounced everything in excellent condition and went down to the first floor of the building where the lab is located. I want to punch whoever designed that building to place a cafe right next to the lab. I was assaulted with the smell of strong hot coffee, freshly baked cinnamon rolls and dare I even mention it: bacon. I was seated about twenty feet from the counters full of food and all the happy people unaware of my misery as they inhaled their bacon. Someone even dared to bring food to the lab waiting area and eat in front of me. She almost lost a hand before the receptionist asked her to move.

I had to remind them twice that my lab was timed, and they still didn't get to me until three minutes after the actual draw time. Finally I got away from the smell of food to the smell of isopropryl alcohol and iodine. Naturally the phlebotomist couldn't find a vein, but she thought she had one and stuck me anyway. I hate it when they do that and then spend several minutes slapping your arm with a needle inside you swishing around trying to hit a vein. I have notoriously difficult veins. Lucky I'm used to needles. My vision started getting black so I warned them I might pass out and then asked for an alcohol swab (a sniff of alcohol works well if you feel faint) and thought I'd be fine to make it to the cafe for food. So I got to the cafe, saw the line and turned for the vending machines instead. I passed out before I could make a selection. Not hurt at all thankfully, but pretty embarrassed. I chose a bag of chips and plopped with little grace into a cushy sofa. After I ate the chips I felt a little better and got a muffin - no bacon left and not quite lunchtime yet. I should have gotten a candy bar from the vending machine and followed it with a bag of peanuts because I felt faint again by the time I got in the driver's seat.

Lucky for me when I picked the kids up the youngest fell asleep in his car seat and I was able to get him into bed without waking up. So I got a nap. Unfortunately I woke up with a migraine that I still haven't been able to get rid of completely. I'm deeply regretting that we haven't been to the grocery store in over two weeks, lunch was Ramen noodles and applesauce and I still feel weak and sick. My 16 month old is currently shaking a juice box all over the place soaking my house in apple juice rain. My other two are fighting loudly over a piece of sidewalk chalk and are mad at me because I won't let them go in the driveway to play hopscotch. In the time it just took me to get my 16 month old off the kitchen table and take the juice box from him and sit myself back down he has now made his way on top of my kitchen counter. Removed from that obstacle course, he has now joined the great chalk war. Did I mention my two oldest have stripped down to their underwear and are on the back patio in full view of my elderly neighbor?

Is my husband home yet?

Cloth Versus Disposables

Around now is the time that I usually start to stock up on diapers for the new baby. I buy a package every time I get groceries, but I haven't been able to bring myself to drop $10 for a package of 20 of the preemie sized diapers that we usually start out in. Newborns require very frequent diaper changes, even if you'd want to keep them in the same diaper until it felt full you can't because for one thing breastfed babies poop just about every time you feed them, and for another the best way to tell if your baby is healthy is to keep track of how many wet and dirty diapers he goes through.
So, you wind up changing a newborn baby's diaper pretty much every time you feed them, between 8 and 12 times a day usually. That means one package of Pampers Swaddlers is gone in two days or less. $60+ to diaper a newborn for one week.

Our 16 month old probably has another 12 months in diapers ahead of him. Currently we go through a package of diapers a week with him, around $50 a month to keep him diapered. Add a newborn in July and my monthly diaper budget goes from that $50 to more than $300 to diaper two kids. The cost of diapering the new baby will gradually decrease as he grows but won't be drastically reduced until he is sleeping through the night.

Personally, I think that cloth diapering has become a fad. The diapers are adorable, with enough options to make anyone happy. We've come a long way from a strip of cloth and safety pins. Now cloth diapers have velcro and snap closures, hundreds if not thousands of colors and patterns, different types of fit and inserts. I see a lot of moms who have gone overboard with cloth diapering to the point of obsession. I can see the allure, definitely. Cloth diapers for baby boys are like hair bows for baby girls. I admit I wanted some cloth diapers for my summer baby just so I could leave him undressed in the summer heat and still have him "dressed" cute. The $20/diaper price is off-putting, though, and it is hard to get past the start-up cost of cloth diapering and see the long term savings.

Last night prompted me to really look into it. A late-night run to buy diapers, our usual store was closed and we wound up at CVS paying nearly double the price for a package of diapers. So when we got home I spent a few hours looking into different diapers and figuring out the costs. I was astonished when I realized that by going with my usual brands of disposable diapers and frequency of changes I spend approximately $1530 to diaper one child for twelve months. And I buy cheap diapers!

The laundry doesn't really bother me. I'm going to have four kids pretty soon, I do laundry every day as it is. I've narrowed my choices of diapers based on ease of laundering them, and found some all-in-one cloth diapers that have biodegradable liners. Toss the liner in the trash, flush it down the toilet or even add it to a compost heap and add the diaper to the laundry. The diapers I am liking best are Bummis, they appear to sell for around $18 each if purchased brand new, and the liners come in rolls like paper towels for less than $10 a roll and about 200 liners. So, if we were to cloth diaper exclusively, I would need probably about 25 diapers, which at $18 each is a cost of $450, and if I used a disposable liner in each diaper I would go through around one and a half rolls per month, a monthly cost of $15 which would be $180 a year. If we estimate that baby would be in those cloth diapers for two and a half years, diapers plus liners leads to a grand total of $900 from birth to potty training. If I sold my used cloth diapers for half of their purchase price, I would make back $225.

So, realistically, two or three months of disposable diaper purchases would buy me enough cloth diapers to last two years. If I always used a liner and flushed the soiled ones, my house would be free of the dirty diaper smell, I wouldn't have soiled diapers sitting around somewhere waiting to be rinsed out, and used diapers would simply be added in the wash at the end of the day the same as my kid's underwear.

My husband and I have discussed "mommy" diapers and "daddy" diapers, or at-home diapers and away-from-home diapers. If we used cloth diapers half the time and disposable diapers the other half we would be spending right around $1000 a year, still a savings of over $500 a year if we were to exclusively use disposables.

Now, if only I could get the people who plan on buying us a pack of diapers as a baby gift to buy us one of these diapers instead...

Painting My Black Thumb Green

I love plants. Love, love, love plants. If I could afford it every room in my house would have a variety: fresh cut flowers in my bedroom, ivy along the top shelves in my kitchen, lots of ferns and tropical plants in brightly colored pots everywhere. I'd have a little backyard getaway and a picturesque front yard. Problem is, I kill every plant I get.

Our front yard looks abysmal. There was a large tree out there a couple years or so that got cut down and left an ugly stump. A few months ago my landlord sent a contractor over to grind down the stump. Now there's still a stump in the ground and several feet of barren lawn. There is a garden along the front of the house full of dead plants and weeds and even a new tree trying to grow that all needs to be dug up. The landlord is willing to pay for new plants we put in and my nesting has spread to the yard, like I just can't bear the idea of bringing home a new baby unless I can tolerate the view from the front of the house.

So, after a lot of online reading, I decided I wanted to plant hydrangeas. Today I went and bought six of them. After getting them out of the back of the van and turning on the sprinkler for the kids I was done. No more energy. I sat down for a while and then got out the shovel so I could turn over the soil and see what I was going to be dealing with. Thankfully the soil looks good, obviously commercial grade soil. No clay, thank goodness. The version of me in my mind wants to be outside right now digging up all the dead plants and tilling the garden. The real me is sat on the sofa feeling exhausted, hot and thirsty just thinking about going outside. It is windy today and it was blissful walking with the kids through the outdoor aisles at Lowes - I think they were convinced we were visiting a botanical garden rather than a store, and they enjoyed it too. But even with the wind, it is 80 degrees which might as well be 110 when you are in the third trimester of pregnancy.

Spring Cleaning and Nesting

I've entered that lovely part of pregnancy known as the third trimester. It's the wonderful time where my belly continues to swell and I put on weight at an average of a pound a week, want to eat everything in sight but also get heartburn as soon as anything goes in my mouth. Third trimester means even more pressure on my bladder, even fever hours of sleep, even more sciatic nerve pain, fewer positions that are comfortable.

Third trimester also means nesting. I've had my spring cleaning lists ready for weeks and had a pretty good start on it but somewhere in the last couple of weeks I lost my ability to keep up with my heathen spawn and the disasters left in their wake.

Unfortunately, nesting for me has never been the awesome energy and ability to organize everything and have a spotless house. Rather, I have an obsession with particular things, usually involving sanitation. With my firstborn the obsession was clean carpets, second time around it was scrubbing countertops with bleach, third time it was baking soda and vinegar. This time I've been repeatedly using Pledge on my kitchen table, and I can't exit the bathroom without spraying Windex or Scrubbing Bubbles on something.

So my house is a mess. There's laundry piled up and spilling over, food crumbs on the floor, kids toys covering every surface...and the only thing I can find energy to do is get out a step ladder and my trusty old Pledge and clean the ceiling fan. I'm really good at cleaning the things that people don't notice. After cleaning the fan I took the cushions off of the sofa and vacuumed the crevices. After that I wiped down the inside of my freezer (where my husband accidentally left an unopened Dr Pepper, and it exploded.)

My house is filthy, and I can hear the perfect supermoms out there right now wanting to recommend ways I can prioritize my cleaning. I'll stop you there, it won't work. Nesting is like OCD for me. I physically feel too exhausted to get up and clean something that I don't want to clean. My brain is set to only have a miraculous energy boost if I suddenly feel the desire to say, smell toilet cleaner. Then I'd be up and scrubbing the porcelain throne for an hour. At 2:00 in the morning I might have an uncontrollable need to get up and dab rubbing alcohol on an ink stain. Once and only once did I ever have the desire to put my nesting energy toward laundry. My husband will probably remember that because it was a Sunday afternoon shortly before my third child was born and I spend several hours going through practically every bit of laundry in the house.

I wish I was one of those people who could drink coffee and feel energized. Coffee makes me sleepy. When I want a cup I am more likely to be seen drinking it at night than in the morning. Sometimes I'll make it in the morning, but those days I usually end up taking a nap if I can manage it. I'm not a morning person. I'm not one of those moms who wakes up before the kids do and has blissful quiet time while they are still asleep. I can't get my house sparkling clean listening to the birds chirping in the first hour of sunlight. I'm the mom that stays in bed until my toddler is up. If he is up I have to be up, or he'll be swinging from my freshly polished ceiling fan.

For now I'm pooped. I am staring at a bag of frozen peas that I forgot to put back in the freezer after wiping it down and I am debating how long I can let it sit out before I'd have to throw it away because I am just that worn out. I'm thankful today is sunny and warm outside because my offspring have chosen to play in the backyard. All I had to do was open the box of sidewalk chalk. If staying in this same position wouldn't result in feeling like I sat on a knitting needle in a while I'd probably be able to fall asleep right here. Nevermind, the kids read my mind and they've just stormed back inside. Might as well put those peas away...

I'm Still Alive!

Last week my lack of posts was because I didn't have much to say that I figured I should say. Then I had to go and get sick. Last Tuesday my littlest monster had his 16 month old well child check-up, and you know how those pediatrician offices are. I was the only one there with my three in tow, next day littlest monster is sick and I just assumed the fever and sniffles were from his vaccines, then Friday morning the kids and I all woke up sick. My oldest remained horizontal the entire day which convinced me that I was in for a bad weekend, that child has had a 105 temperature and been on the verge of scarlet fever before and still acted perfectly normal.

So Friday night comes, and while I had been miserably trying to breathe and vomiting for a few hours at that point my kids are all back to normal. Yay...

I don't keep much medicine in the house. For one thing I don't like having too much around in case the kids get into it, and for another it seems silly to me to stock up on cold medicine that will expire in 12 months when you might not need to use it before the expiration. So over the weekend my local Walgreens made a lot of money. I couldn't figure out what would be the best thing for me to take, so I tried a few different things and nothing really helped. Each trip to Walgreens further drained the bank account, and for some reason Kleenex never made it back to my poor irritated nose.

Monday I woke with severe abdominal pain and wound up in Labor and Delivery. My midwife determined all the coughing and vomiting had led to some very sore ligaments. Baby is fine, blissfully unaware that mommy is sick while he explores the space under my ribs. I should have begged for something to relieve me of my misery. I did at least get my Kleenex after another Walgreens run.

Yesterday my husband stayed home, too sick himself for work. We took turns going to the doctor so that we wouldn't have to get out with the kids. My diagnosis was bronchitis and a double ear infection. Walgreens made another small fortune and I got an antibiotic that has helped me at least resemble a human being today. I can breathe, at least, which reminds me that I need to change out my Scentsy wax and spray every surface of my house with Lysol...(and bleach the garbage can, and drop lemon slices in the garbage disposal, and clean out the refrigerator, and discover what crawled under my couch and died, and shampoo my rug and wash all the bedding and scrub the toilets...)

My Kleenex supply has greatly depleted, much thanks to three children who all seem to think it is fun to pull out all the tissues and drop them on the floor.  Here's hoping I won't be needing them much longer. Here's also hoping that my children are saints for the rest of the week.

Shameless Advertising

I sell wickless candles. I did the math earlier and discovered that in order for me to support myself and four children on my own based on current living arrangements and expenses I'd need to sell $7,200 worth of product on a monthly basis. Currently I average $150 in sales each month which takes a considerable amount of begging and some of my own money. $150 in sales equals around $37 in my pocket on the 10th of the following month.

So yeah, that sucks. Unlike some people I know I don't have a million friends and acquaintances who adore me and want to buy whatever I'm selling. I can hear the echo of some thoughts right now... Maybe if you were in church... That is the answer to everything for some people. Like my mother-in-law, who told my husband we wouldn't be having issues in our marriage right now if we were in church. I'd like to write her a nice little letter and explain in detail to her all the things her little boy got into while living under her roof and attending her church...but they like to blame me for the way he turned out, might as well let 'em because it would be like arguing with any given inanimate object.

But I digress as usual...

I've never been a people person, never been a great salesperson either. I sucked at telemarketing, I sucked at trying to get customers to open new accounts with my bank, I suck at selling this product that I love. There are two main reasons: Firstly, my area is so freaking saturated with consultants that every time I go to the grocery store there is a vehicle parked near mine with the company logo and consultant's contact information on it. Two of my neighbors are consultants. My friends and family all know other consultants. Just recently I had not one but two people want to order from me and then go behind my back and order with someone else. I want my catalogs back, bitches. Those things cost me money!

Secondly, I have trouble trying to talk people into buying something that they may not be able to afford. I can barely afford to keep my stock of scents up. I learned fairly quickly that I couldn't afford to pretend like I'm a top seller. I dished out loads of money at first for all the supplies and doodads to throw a great house party. I've done two parties in the last year. The first party I sold $20 in product, the second was better, but not enough to earn back the gas money spent driving to the hostess' house.

Anyway, venting about that is over. Just one of those little threads in my mind at the moment. If you're looking for some wickless candles and you want to support a snarky bitch like me, I'm not difficult to contact.

How Was Your Weekend?

I'm home from the weekend with my in-laws. You know, I wasn't particularly dreading going all too much but it did prove to be disastrous anyway. It started with three wide-awake children who had slept most of the drive there like I knew they would. I managed to say pretty much everything the wrong way, which led to some criticism about me not having a good relationship with my parents. Mind you, my in-laws know plenty about my family so I was biting back saying something like "Really, YOU wouldn't want to associate with my parents, but you expect me to allow my children around them?" I didn't because I knew what the answer would be. "They're faaaaaammmmmiiiilllllllyyyyyyyyy." I forget that I am one of those rare breeds (AKA bitch/bad daughter/anti-social, take your pick) that doesn't think family's behavior should be ignored just because they share some DNA. I hold family to a higher standard than I do friends, if you treat me like crap I don't give you a big hug and kiss and invite you for dinner at my house next week.

The weekend also confirmed that this blog has already been discovered by certain nosy people who like to gossip. You know who you are because you're the one who doesn't consider it gossip to go call your family and tell them what I've said. If you think I care you're in for a big surprise.

Saturday was a nice day until dinner. There was some indecision about where to eat plus three irritable children who hadn't napped. After dinner the night got about 100 times worse when I asked my husband if I could see his phone to look at pictures taken earlier in the day. Details aside I learned that I'm too old and fat to be what turns my husband on these days. I've never felt old, never thought I'd feel old until age was accompanied with deep wrinkles, white hair, great-grandchildren and failing organs. In any case I would have expected it to be another 15 years at least before I felt like my husband wanted to trade me in for a younger, thinner model. I haven't sorted through all of that yet, I think my primary emotions are disappointment and embarrassment.

Being the good whatever it is that I am, I stayed, didn't make a scene (but did notice the double standard that it is okay for my husband to be on his iPhone half asleep on his parent's sofa but it is rude for me to do the same) I sat there trying to hold it together on my in-laws sofa while my husband was hiding and deleting things off his phone. I kept my temper in check when my in-laws started the attack on why my children don't behave the way they should and go to bed when they're told. I don't have them on good schedules, I give them too much sugar, my mother-in-law's kids never were like that...I tuned out the rest and focused on my phone. My father-in-law asked me if I was on Facebook, and remembering his hatred for me plus social media I said "Something like that."

I even went to church with everyone in the morning. I didn't burst into flames when I stepped through the doors like I think one or two people may have hoped. I laughed in my head at a few little things here and there and did my lip service. The sermon was basically that if bad things happen in your life you should be questioning whether or not you were ever really saved. I disagree, naturally. Shit happens because that is just the way it is.  I marveled that people actually buy into some of the dogma I was hearing. The preacher stressed that people out of God's will are convicted and guilty because they are out of God's will. It was a scriptural, fancy way of saying if you're a heathen you are going to be judged by your Christian family and friends. No surprise there. The scripture came up that mentions an "unequally yoked" marriage and I about laughed out loud. I wondered for a minute if my in-laws asked the pastor to mention that one. But they needn't fear, because the preacher said that because one spouse was a believer the children would be okay. The rest of the sermon continued with the theme of backsliders, non-believers only experience surface happiness and he never answered his own question, "Doesn't God want me to be happy?" Believers want to follow God's will because the bible promises a lack of reward in heaven if they don't. *sigh*

At lunch my father-in-law asked my husband what he thought of the service. He mentioned something about the uncomfortable slanted floors and theater style seating rather than saying what he said to me in the car when discussing atheism, agnosticism and deism. My opinion wasn't asked for a reason. (Besides that the woman isn't the spiritual head of the family and has no say, I mean.)

So, now we're home. My house is a disaster. I woke up sick today and my kids quickly took advantage by trashing the place like they always do. When husband is home I am locking myself in my bedroom.

Naked Baby Dolls...?

Last year my son (3 at the time) started the phase of always wanting to be naked. Any time we were home or in someone else's home the clothes came off. He's finally outgrown that (mostly) but now my daughter is the little nudist.

Girls have to make everything more complicated than boys do, too, my daughter isn't simply satisfied with being naked, she has to flaunt it - run outside after me completely nude when all I am doing is going to check the mail. Her dolls have to be naked too. Right now she is asking me to remove the sewn on diaper on a little rag doll that has already lost its dress. 

What I don't understand is why she is so picky about her clothes in the first place when she never keeps them on. The child never wears the same pair of underwear for longer than an hour unless she's asleep. I will hold out every item hanging in her closet piece by piece trying to get her to pick an outfit and she'll say "nope," to everything and then wind up dragging out a ratty old pair of pajamas that she outgrew a year ago and demanding to wear that instead.

I started buying her night gowns fantasizing about how cute she'd be in them and how nice it'd be once she realized that she didn't have to take it off every time she needed to use the bathroom. She hates the gowns. She hates all pajamas except those outgrown ones. She hates oversized t-shirts. I even gave her one of my shrunken undershirts, she hates that too. 

Two paragraphs later from my mention of the dolly diaper removal demands I find myself sitting next to an army of naked baby dolls. I told her she can pick ONE doll to take with us for our weekend with grandma and grandpa. Naturally she chooses them all. Now how to explain this one of my mother-in-law. I'm sure HER children never went through a naked phase.

Thursdays Are Worse Than Mondays

Thursday. My least favorite day of the week. Thursday is the day I'm reminded of all the things that I needed to get done before the weekend and have either forgotten about or have been trying to put off. Thursday is the day that taunts me with the hope of Friday. Thursday is the day I don't remember to check and see if the trash was taken to the curb until I hear the garbage truck pass my house. This particular Thursday is the day I'm stressing over the fact that I will be spending the weekend at my in-laws house with a couple hundred miles and a state line separating me from the comfort of my own home.

I don't hate my in-laws, we have more of what I suppose is a mutual polite dislike. It's the whole "not good enough for their son" thing, and my beliefs, opinions and choices probably aren't up to their standards either. Oh well. I gave up my hopes well before the marriage certificate was signed, and I still have to admit that I have a better relationship with my mother-in-law than I do with my own mother. One just disapproves of me, the other is toxic.

Back to why I'm stressed out today. I need to pack and since I'm pregnant I have very little appropriate clothing to wear in public (I'm a fan of lounging around the house in my pajamas or the awesome maternity sweat pants I scored for three dollars at Old Navy.) I have even less when you factor in a church service. My "nice" tops are low cut, and my skirt of choice might not be long enough. My kids will be wearing their Easter clothes.
Besides needing to pack I also was hoping to leave my house in a fairly clean state. Last time we went out of town for the weekend my aunt who inconveniently lives next door tried to stage a break-in which led to police breaking in through my back door and walking through the house to check for signs of an intruder. It was right before Christmas and right after my kids celebrated their birthdays (equal to three birthday parties plus a house full of guests) and I had just made several batches of Christmas candy and left the mess in my kitchen. So now every time I leave my house I think about the possibility of policemen walking through it.

I've completely lost my train of thought thanks to the constant "mom...mom...mom...mom..." I am hearing from my four year old. He's currently sat in front of the TV playing the Playstation and he has asked me three times now in the last minute, "Mom, what'd the pig say mom?" For children who have absolutely no idea what a record is they have grasped the concept of sounding like broken ones very well.

Put THAT In Your Cupcake and Stuff It!

I'm an opinionated, emotional, bitchy kind of person. That's just me. People used to try and succeed at making me feel like crap every time I had a bad day and posted about it. I've lost "friends" who have complained about people who complain. People have told me I'm too negative. I have spies on my Facebook page who report to my in-laws about every little thing that goes on. My poor husband has been in numerous arguments with his parents over posts. Of course, I shouldn't feel too sympathetic towards my husband since he doesn't shut down the "Facebook is the devil" talk as soon as it starts...

In my opinion if someone isn't going to be your friend anymore because you complain about something they aren't a very good friend in the first place. We all have our outlets. Mine just happens to be blabbing incessantly about things that are on my mind, and often the things that are on my mind are things that I can't express aloud when I'm stuck 24 hours a day in a house trying to keep a smile on my face and a singsong voice intact for my children who don't need to see their mommy have a nervous breakdown. I can't unleash all of the crazy on my husband in the very, very limited amount of time we have alone together. I'd rather enjoy the silence that is those five minutes we have in bed together when the kids are finally asleep and he hasn't started snoring yet.

If you're going to read this blog, you are going to read about the times that my life sucks. I've got all the baggage that comes with trying to be a normal happy adult who was once a scrawny underfed, abused, sheltered little girl. I don't write my vents because I want people to feel sorry for me. I write them for two reasons. The first reason being that, as I said, this is my outlet. The second reason is that I think more women out there need to know it is okay to quit trying to be perfect. It doesn't make you a bad wife or mother if you have days where you want to pull all your hair out and get away.
Even if motherhood was your ultimate dream (it was mine,) it isn't always or even mostly what you hope it will be.
I haven't gone a single day since December 21st, 2006 where I haven't heard a child crying, had to change a diaper, worried constantly about everything and had to put the well being of another human being above my most basic needs. We all handle stress differently, and it doesn't make someone a better mom than you if they can do the supermom song and dance from dawn to dusk without breaking a sweat or thinking a negative thought (though I bet if they say that, they are lying through the perfectly straight and sparkly white teeth that they surely have.)

I absolutely adore my children and my husband and life in general. I'm just not your rainbows and unicorns kind of gal. If you read my rants and take it to mean that I am selfish and don't love my family, than this isn't the blog for you.

Hump Day - and Other Pet Peeves

I hate it when people call Wednesday Hump Day. I know it is supposed to be because this is the middle of the week and it is downhill from here to the weekend, but who doesn't think of the word hump as a verb first? With our dirty minds we all know it is more fitting to describe Saturday as Hump Day... who has sex on Wednesdays anyway? Don't answer that.

My detest for the Hump Day title reminds me of my other pet peeves. I really shouldn't find it ironic at all that I have encountered most of my pet peeves on Facebook in the last three days. It's really simple: I wish that people would either learn to spell or hire a stenographer to do all of their postings for them. Is it considered rude to unfriend people simply because you can't stand trying to decipher what the hell they are talking about? I try my best to politely correct some things: If someone continually spells a word wrong I'll comment and make sure that I spell the word the right way. That never works, in fact, it seems to have the opposite effect. The offender instead not only continues spelling the word wrong but seems to use that word more frequently. I'm not talking about commonly misspelled words either! I once knew someone who spelled the word cheap as cheep. All. The. Time. Of course the excuse in that case would probably be that a spell checker isn't going to correct cheep because it isn't the spell checker's job to determine whether or not the writer is describing the sound a bird makes or something that is inexpensive.

Besides the poor spelling, I want to hit people over the head who use text speak instead of proper English any time they are online. Sometimes I have to Google a text term to figure out what someone is saying to me.

A few others that go along with that general pet peeve include USING ALL CAPS - IT IS RUDE AND IT MAKES ME WANT TO GOUGE OUT MY EYES; Using excess punctuation!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Especially when your sentence should end with a period instead of an exclamation. Don't get me started on people who Capitalize random Words - this seems popular in my mother's family, I'm not kidding, I thought it was just her and maybe the drugs she's on but all of her blood relatives do the same thing and it grates on me about as much as filing my nails does my husband. Finally, things such as double negatives and phrases like 'got my nails did' are just plain annoying.

My other Facebook pet peeve is when people's profile pictures are always one of them taken in the bathroom mirror with a cell phone camera. Can nobody else snap a picture for you? You didn't flush the toilet, by the way. Gross.

"Ironing" Out the Kinks

I can think of one time that I've actually put my iron to use in the last six months, and seeing as that was to remove spilled Scentsy wax from a bookshelf rather than getting wrinkles out of clothing (Put it in the dryer for a few minutes, honey, it'll be fine,) I'm enjoying my own little joke about the title of this post.

But I digress. As usual.

If I can get it to work and look pretty I made a little banner for this blog. Between making the kids breakfast/lunch, putting the toddler to nap, sweeping and mopping my entryway for fear that the UPS man would call CPS, that is. You know, the usual. A blog without a banner isn't much of a blog at all anyway, and I've added pictures so my stalkers can be 100% certain they've found the right blog. Enjoy.

That's How I Roll

I've gotta get me one of these!

New Blog

Hi there, just created my new blog, I'm going to iron out a few things before I start posting so consider this just a test.