“So what would you like to do with your placenta?” my compassionate Midwife inquired.
“Yeah sure I’ll keep that.” I half-heartedly returned.
(I heard it was good for you and…stuff…?)
“OK then! Where is your ice chest to put it in?” she wonders, glancing curiously around the delivery room devoid of anything resembling an ice chest.
“Your ice chest…?”
“Oh never mind. Yeah, I don’t have one of those.”
Deadpan confused stare from Midwife.
I was going to be a crunchy hip, baby-wearing, puree making, yogi mama that wrapped her babies up in organic cloth diapers to protect their precious lives (and well you know the environment…). Well maybe it was my lack of commitment to what in the world I was supposed to do with my placenta that set my tone for failed crunchy-filled dreams, but despite my upbringing as a true blooded Austinite unicorn (I thought we were bred crunchy?), it turns out I am not a crunchy mom AT ALL and my hip mom status is laughable at best.
Because the truth is after I had kids, for the life of me, I could not EVER even seem to remember my cute reusable grocery store bags (Stop – I already know this makes me an awful person). And filled with shame (SHAME!) I constantly feel compelled to sadly sulk my head as I apologetically explain how ONCE AGAIN I forgot them. (The store people think I’m lying – I am sure of it, but these phantom bags really do exist and they really are much trendier than my paper shame bags.) Yesterday, I even remembered to put them in my car, and STILL I forgot them, partly thanks to the squirming spider monkey spilling out of my arms.
And speaking of squirming spider monkeys… Have you ever tried to put one of those things into a baby wearing device? Don’t get me started on how babies grow hidden limbs in any endeavor to trap them.
And speaking of my nonexistent babywearing… Did you know I even tried to learn how to use those baby wrap things? I went to a free class and everything (because I was committed – I was going to train myself how to be a legit crunchy mom!).
I even attempted bonding with legit crunchy moms at babywearing class. But I could tell we weren’t one in the same. My version of vintage attire was maternity Old Navy hand me downs. And theirs was hip earthy garments that looked like Mother Earth personally threaded them together to clothe said moms in beautifully relaxed armor exuding grace.
I was a fraud. And I was pretty sure they could smell out my imposter stench. After all, I wasn’t even bathed in essential oils — and to this day I know NOTHING (NOTHING!) about oils and what exactly they are essential to.
Which leads to my most fraudulent endeavor of crunchy mom attempts.
Despite my constant reluctant use of my grocery shame bags, I really do care about the environment, so with the support/push of a very environmentally conscious co-worker, I decided to attempt cloth diapers. I registered for them. Friends everywhere generously donated to this worthy cause via my baby shower.
And I hated them with every fiber of being.
But I felt HORRIBLE for wasting the millions (OK maybe not millions, but it was a lot) of dollars of investment in these environment savers, so at first, I tried to talk myself into loving them. Sure I love them — I just won’t leave the house because I am terrified of trying to navigate this cloth diaper situation in public. Then one day I had no choice but to venture out into the world with the cloth baby poop trappers. And then that same day, after a particularly traumatic explosive situation in public, I vowed that the world would forgive my transgression of disposable diaper use in public henceforth in exchange for priceless mental sanity points.
But after one slip up into the marvels of modern day conveniences, I was hooked. And I happily (albeit shamefully) traded my principles for the wonderment that was disposable diapers.
But it gets worse! I was in denial and still in the closet about my diaper use so I PRETENDED we still cloth diapered our child. That’s right! I actually would change my daughter into a cloth diaper before guests came over because I was so mortified that I had wasted everyone’s money and had failed so royally at my cloth diapering endeavor.
And you want to know my dirty little secret? They are still in my closet today. Yep, that’s right. Because I have a 16-month old squid that ever since he was born I convinced myself this would be my chance for cloth diaper redemption. Ten guesses to how that has gone.
So needless to say I never even made it to my forgone dreams to puree my own baby food. And it is “cute” that I ambitiously thought this would fit into my personality regime given how often I cook such delicious, homemade, organic meals for our family and such. (Insert most sarcastic eye roll you can imagine EVER here please).
So yeah. I’m not a crunchy mom-not even close. I used to be a crunchy mom wannabe, and one day when I am not so tired I might have the ambition to at least aspire crunchy mom dreams once again. But today… today I use chemicals to disinfect our house when littles are sick, I heart vaccines, we have no amber necklaces, our baby wears a disposable poop catcher, I buy organic when it is on sale, and I am really trying hard to get the reusable grocery bags from the car to the actual store.