A stupid little obsession

One of the benefits of cloth diapering is that we can let Kalina run around with only the absorbent cotton diaper part, not the waterproof barrier, so her little bum can air out a bit.

Some would argue that this is not, in fact, a benefit but is instead a liability.

You thought we were crazy for having a baby in the first place, and now we want her to soil entire loads of laundry so we can wash it in our own washer, fold it with our own hands and then repeat the process? Several times a week?

Well, we'd consider it the lesser of two evils. Really, we'd like her to potty train tomorrow. And say please and thank-you. And drive us to the movie theater so we can watch a full-length feature in fewer than 3 sittings.

The problem is, cloth diapers are extremely cute (see photo) and I have all the signs of being officially addicted: I try to convert all my friends to cloth diapering, I miss my cloth diapers when I travel and I ask for them for Christmas. I secretly visit cloth-diapering websites regularly even though we have plenty so I can check out the new fabrics. I even take pictures of Kalina in just her cute little diapers so that I can remember them forever (see photo).

This is spurred on by the fact that the cloth diapers of today, much like electronics and pets, are not content to exist simply in a utilitarian fashion. After all, who would buy a diaper for such mundane details as how leakproof or absorbent it is? Not today's shoppers. And not me.

Kalina and I require cute patterns, colors and styles (Daddy, by the way, does not). Using various absorbancy, stay-dry and waterproof layers, we like to customize each individual diaper to our plans for the next few hours. Sometimes we try to coordinate with her outfit, sometimes we get a little crazy and leave off the waterproof layer to get the aforementioned air on her little bum. It's a veritable party on the changing table many times a day.

I'm not alone, by the way. I've found entire message boards devoted to the topic of cloth diapers heavily populated by people both crazier and more vocal than I. They (and now I) toss around phrases such as "lanolizing" and "stash." The acronyms, by the way, would wow even the most obnoxious CEO.

The questions bouncing around the message boards are even stranger than the people at times. "Can you wash wool in the bathtub?", "Where's the cheapest place to buy Loopy-Doos and Fuzzi Bums?" and my favorite, "How can I get my child's poop to solidify a bit so it's easier to dump?" (The answer is less fruit).

We use words like "invest" to console each other for the fact that the cutest diapers can rapidly end up costing more than diposables, much to our husbands' dismay. We remind each other every chance we get that it's better for the environment.

And then there's the whole "trimness" challenge. Cloth diaperers continually battle against bulk. We get ourselves into it (because no matter what anyone convinces themselves, nothing is as trim as a "sposie," as we like to call them), and so we try rather convincingly to get ourselves out of it by experimenting with different brands and combinations and complementing one another liberally. I've been known to take pictures of particularly trim diapers I've achieved (see photo), others have been known to throw parades.

It's not that we look down on those who use disposables. It's that we think they're missing out on all the fun. Don't you agree?

So why all the hooplah about such a mundane subject?

Two reasons. 1. Cloth diapering can be as simple or as complex as you want to make it 2. Pretend you change a diaper 8 times a day, every day for 2-3 years. Wouldn't it help if at least the diapers were cute? Absolutely it does.

Not that Kalina has to make a fashion statement with every diaper she wears. But can she at least make the statement "I like purple flowers?" You bet. (See photo)