He’s a G Man
I had really hoped to use cloth diapers with EJ. Everyone has their own reasons, but for me it just seems like an awful lot of (chemical and plastic-laden) garbage produced by one little baby in disposables. Wendy and Kellee gave me a training run-down over a summer breakfast at Wendy’s kitchen table. Johanna was encouraging through the comments. The resources are out there, and I know that cloth diapers have come a long way from sharp safety pins and soggy nappies.
We, however, don’t have laundry in our apartment. I am quite sure that the other people in our building would not appreciate washing their clothes in the same machine as EJ’s poopie diapers. Moreover, it’s hard enough to get all the laundry done, as bending over the machine is a little tricky with the Baby Bjorn on.
(I did look into a diaper service, but it seems there’s only one option in Manhattan – crazy, right? – and it gets only lukewarm reviews at best.)
So, I had resigned myself to killing the earth in the name of convenience when my friend Malaika gave us the super helpful and generous gift of a crapload of diapers. Packages of diapers of every kind – the whole wheat non-chlorine ones, the Whole Foods ones, Pampers, and very wonderfully the G Diaper.
Maya had mentioned them last summer, but having never seen them myself they were kind of an abstract until Malaika brought them over.
What makes them so cool is that they have the same construction as a cloth diaper (outer cover, waterproof liner), but instead of stuffing them with cotton or flannel, you can buy flushable inserts made from wood pulp. They’re fully biodegradable. In fact, you can even throw the wet ones on your compost pile, and they’ll break down in 2 – 3 months.
They take a bit more work than disposables – the liners do get poopie (poopy?) and you have to rinse them when they do – but not nearly the work of cloth diapers, and best of all they don’t require laundry machines in your apartment.
Also? Poopie is my new favorite word.
Poopie poopie poopie.
(I may or may not be at the point of giddy delirium from extended sleep deprivation. Or else I have the sensibility of an 8 year old.)