Love is the Drug

When breastfeeding goes wrong, it can go wrong fast.  As a clueless first time mother, I failed hard.  By the time I figured out that we had a problem, our son was being admitted to Children's Hospital, dehydrated and jaundiced.

Freddie is laughably, blessedly healthy now, but I'll never forget those horrible first few days of confusion and uncertainty, followed by that endless night in the hospital.  I pumped breast milk and supplemented with formula whenever I fell short.  By the time he was a few months old, it was over - Freddie was on Enfamil full-time.

Fiona is a few weeks old now, and I'm relieved to report that breastfeeding is going just fine.  Here's what's different this time:

• I took a fabulous breastfeeding class before I delivered.
• My delivery nurse was a certified lactation consultant who made sure we got off on the right foot.
• Our hospital encouraged rooming in, meaning that Fiona and I fell into a rhythm from the first.
• The maternity ward was filled with lactation consultants who were helpful and available.
• I came prepared with the best book ever - Breastfeeding Made Simple.

And despite all this, the most important difference was me.  I was fiercely determined not so much to breastfeed, but to follow my instincts.  With Freddie, I knew something was wrong but kept thinking it was just new parent nerves.  With Fiona, I knew things were going right from the first.

Which makes some parts of my experience baffling.  While our hospital was, overall, pro-breastfeeding and very helpful, a number of nurses clearly were biased in favor of formula.  The second night, after my daughter had lost a lot of weight, one nurse bullied me into feeding her some formula.  I'm strong-willed and mule-stubborn, but she managed to put me into a full-scale panic.  Since she came on duty at 11 p.m., it wasn't as if I had access to a second opinion.  I gave Fiona a taste, but as soon as I had, it hit me.  This is wrong.

So I checked with a lactation consultant in the morning, and our pediatrician when he visited and even though two more nurses tried valiantly to convince me to supplement, I politely ignored them.  "She's lost 7% of her birth weight.  Maybe you can give her some formula?"

"I think we're fine."

"We don't want her to lose too much weight."

"I think we're fine.  Thanks so much."  Cue big smile.

And don't get me started on the nurse who compared formula to dessert.  Would she tell me to feed my 4 y.o. a hot fudge sundae after he eats his waffles and OJ every morning?

Because we live in a big city, our nurses were from every corner of the Earth.  I wonder if some of that had something to do with it.  The lactation consultants were women like me - white, educated, vaguely hippie-ish if you looked beyond the scrubs.  Some of the nurses looked at me like I was a crazy, vaguely hippie-ish privileged white woman.  

They're probably right.

Except that they're SO clearly wrong about breastfeeding.  Because my daughter is thriving.  She gained back her birth weight plus five ounces by her two week doctor's appointment, and now ranks in the 75th percentile for weight.

And we're managing without any special gear or equipment.  Well, I did send Franklin out for those gel packs.  But after the first few days, I haven't even needed them.

Don't get me wrong - I'm grateful that formula exists, because feeding Freddie was a challenge.  Between having no maternity leave and a disastrous start to breastfeeding, if not for formula, he might have been truly sick - or worse.

But I wish every mother would have the chance to breastfeed successfully.  Because I am so in love with my darling daughter, and this feels like the ultimate expression.

Save the World Decisions

A few years ago, when the economy was booming and gas cost less than Pepsi, a colleague of mine commented on reports of a hybrid Hummer:

That's not a save-the-world decision.

He was right, of course.  And it turned out that the Hummer Hybrid was just a rumor.  (Never fear - the 2009 Cadillac Escalade is available with the, ahem, green technology.)

But at the time, I remember thinking to myself:  What is our responsibility to make save-the-world decisions?

We've reduced our footprint dramatically, and on the occasions where I do opt for the less green, sometimes even wasteful choice, should I feel guilty?

Or should making a certain number of save-the-world decisions - sacrifices, really - allow us to choose places to be wasteful?

Here's my dilemma:  I've decided to boycott conventional chocolate candy.  Diane's Big Green Purse had me fairly alarmed about the ills of conventional chocolate - mostly that child labor is involved in cocoa production, but also a host of environmental considerations.  I couldn't imagine handing out Hershey bars at trick'or'treat, knowing that kids the same age as our revelers had slaved to make it possible.

Instead, I decided we'd hand out little toys - Matchbox cars - and something other than chocolate.  Our neighborhood is small; we know most of the toddlers who will trick'or'treat on our street before retiring to the community center.  If we do get a bunch of older kids, we've got a few dozen Hershey bars left over from Freddie's last school fundraiser that will almost certainly suffice.  (Yes, I know - I just said I couldn't imagine.  But they're in our pantry, and really, it's even less reasonable to toss them in the trash.)

Instead, I bought animal cracker packs, stickers and Chinese paper yo-yos, plus little cellophane bags to put them in.  I spent about $18.  And I argued with myself the whole time.

Is this really any better than $10 worth of candy?  Well ... the kids will have the Matchboxes forever; I'm planning to raid Freddie's excess of Play-Doh minis for the few girls in our 'hood.  So it's not disposable.  And the Chinese yo-yos can be recycled.

Speaking of the yo-yos, Fern - Chinese!  It's all made in China.  True.  I'm part of the problem.  But if I can't splurge now and then, I'll go crazy!  We rarely drive, we recycle like mad, I'm super careful about our energy use and do my best to make green choices in our regular consumer habits.  Can't we have a holiday?

At what cost, Fern?  What if those yo-yos were put together by prison labor in China?  $3.99 for 30 yo-yos?  No economy of scale makes consumer goods that cheap without adverse impact.  Yes.  You're right, inner voice.  They're wasteful and possibly dangerous.  But I want them, I want them, I want them!  I want to be the cool mom this Halloween, not the one handing out one tiny pack of spelt pretzels.  I'm already the mom who wraps presents in the comics and sends whole wheat everything in Freddie's lunchbox.

And anyhow, Inner Voice, THERE WAS NO GREEN ALTERNATIVE!  I suppose I could've bought Annie's Cheddar Bunnies in individual packages, but they're not enough of a treat to meet my criteria - 'round here, most kids eat those on a daily basis.  Animal crackers work because our under five crowd is easy to please.

I suppose I might have Franklin scoop up a handful of Dum Dum pops from the corner store.  They're manufactured about eight hours away - not local, but not Cote d'Ivoire, either.  And the Spangler Candy Company is family-owned, which makes me feel a smidge better about this overindulgence.

It's not a save-the-world decision.  It's the opposite, and I made it knowingly.

File this under "Green Guilt," while I renew my commitment to cloth diapering, second-hand finery and trying to source more of our food locally.

I have a lot of packaging to make up for.

Are You Okay with Hand-Me-Downs?

My neighbors, a group of people for whom I am deeply grateful, recently threw us a surprise baby shower for Fiona.

We live in an interesting place - there's a fair amount of job security, given that many of our neighbors work for the federal government or are active duty military.  (The latter group has a job security that is downright terrifying.)  But our incomes are relatively modest when you consider the cost of living in the nation's capital.  And so while most of us are two-income, professional families that appear to earn quite a bit, our lifestyles are by no means lavish.

This isn't the kind of 'hood that attracts people longing for the Glamorous Life, either.  I suppose some of our neighbors could've stretched and a fancier 'burb, but it would've meant living outside the beltway.

Most of us are at least a little bit green, though it's inconsistent.  The only family of hardcore vegetarians includes a shopaholic mom; the only family that really eats local also commutes via car.  

But in recent days, a number of neighbors have asked how I feel about hand-me-downs.  

My attitude?  Bring 'em on!

Could we afford to kit out our kid?  Of course!  But why?  If there are perfectly good kid clothes sitting in someone else's closet, I'm more than willing to dress Fiona in secondhand finery.  Much of her baby clothing has come second-hand already, through the local thrift store and my favorite consignment shop.

But here's what puzzles me - if they're asking it must mean either:

1.  They admire and respect my personal style and approach to dressing Freddie and don't want to interfere with our sartorial decision-making.

With a glance down at my well-worn, $3 clearance rack maternity khakis from pregnancy #1, I can safely conclude that's not it.

2.  Some people consider hand-me-downs inappropriate or even insulting.  Or something.

Looking back, I remember my mother disliking the hand-me-downs we received from a pair of cousins.  But then, my cousins were allowed to adopt trendy, more adult styles a few grade levels earlier than we were.  When we were all still in little girl sundresses, I seem to recall wearing quite a few of Hester and Hattie's things.

Other than issues of appropriateness, I can't fathom a reason to say no to 2T tee shirts.  Should some of the tees declare Fiona a diva, princess or spoiled brat, I'll simply tuck those in the back of the box to be returned.

So ... I don't get it.  Why would someone object to gently used kids' clothing?  I'll probably still splurge on a few special occasion outfits and the like, but that's easier to do if most of her gear comes free of charge.

Why would anyone turn down such painless generosity?

Greene Housekeeping

I've been reading Ellen Sandbeck's Green Housekeeping with a cautious eye.  While I've been happy to switch to Method and Seventh Generation substitutes, I'm hesitant to ditch all of my green cleaning products in favor of white vinegar and baking soda.

Call me cautious, but the bottom line is that I'm new to running a household, and often feel overwhelmed.  This is what makes me easy prey for the big consumer product companies and their over-processed, over-packaged chemical fiestas in the cleaning aisle.

There is something about Green Housekeeping's tone that can make you crazy - at least if you're a novice like me, prone to feeling guilty.  But I'm happy to report that I got up the courage to try one of her suggestions, and it worked like a charm.

While our dishwasher is just a year old, I've never been sure how to clean it.  Other than wiping it out a few times, I've pretty much just put in dirty dishes and hoped for the best.  But after 14 months of hard service, it was undeniable that our clean machine needed some TLC.

So I grabbed Ellen's book and looked up her suggestions.  Here it is:

Fill a bowl with two cups of distilled white vinegar.  Place it on the bottom rack of the dishwasher and run a regular cycle.

Success!  It was easy, fast, cheap and impeccably green.

She has another suggestion for cleaning out a garbage disposal using vinegar and baking soda.  I'm going to try this one next week.  (I used up the last of my white vinegar on the dishwasher.)  

I'll also be taking a quick glance at the products I didn't buy to do these jobs - my local grocery store sells a $4 bottle of something designed to clean garbage disposals and a similar product for dishwashers.  Can I count those towards our financial savings?

Hmmm ... not sure about that.  But we can certainly count them towards a greener planet.

Ditching the Disposables

Crunchy Domestic Goddess issued a "ditch the disposables" challenge for September and October.

I was initially at a loss as to what to ditch.  While we haven't gone paper-towel free, we've cut down our use dramatically.  (And switched to sustainable, paper-from-paper for what we do use.)  But just thinking about the DtD challenge has me thinking differently.

Officially, we're ditching purse-pack tissues in favor of handkerchiefs.  Franklin asked me to buy some; my brother-in-law carries them faithfully.  And since Freddie's requests for a tissue are often, er, non-productive, I figured it would be an easy switch, and one that reduced our reliance on a heavily packaged product.

So far?  Easiest green thing we've ever done.

But here are a few other disposables on which we've reduced our use:

• I was an early adopter of Lysol wipes for quick cleaning; while I've switched over to rags, I've been in the habit of keeping the wipes on hand.  I realized the other day that I've all-but-stopped using them and wouldn't miss them if they were gone.
• Ding, dong the Clorox ToiletWand system is dead!
• After weeks of the Diaper Debate, we've ordered three cloth diapers to test out.  Assuming they work, we'll buy more.
• I'm keeping a handkerchief in our bathroom, reaching for it instead of a tissue almost every time.

Combined with our other ditched disposables - over the last year, we've taken to using refillable Sigg canteens and travel coffee mugs, reusable shopping bags and (mostly) refillable containers instead of plastic baggies and wrap - it feels like we're really cutting down on our garbage generation.

There's always more to do, but for the moment, it feels like we keep managing to find simple, straightforward and logical things to do to make a difference.

One Small Step for the Potty, One Giant Leap for the Greenes

When I first embarked on the greening of the Greenes, I agonized over costs.  Seventh Generation dishwashing liquid is nearly three times as much as Ajax; don't get me started on Burt's Bees shampoo or Tom's of Maine toothpaste.

I was willing to do it, regardless.  My family has given up so much recreational shopping that spending a little bit of extra cash to protect the Earth for our children is a sound investment.

But thanks to a bunch of other blogs and Diane's Big Green Purse, the light bulb finally switched on.  (Must've been a CFL.)

For the past few years, I've been cleaning our toilets with the Clorox Toilet Wand system.  I had an irrational fear of dirty toilet brushes.  And cleaning the toilet seemed like this huge job of work - hours of scrubbing, surely.  This nifty system made it so easy - just pop on a new head, swish and then toss the head into the trash.

Except.

The chemicals!  The waste!  And, as Franklin pointed out the other day, we've cut down on our trash so dramatically that the used heads lingered in our bathroom wastebaskets for at least a week, often more.  Not really an improvement on a dirty toilet brush.

And then I did the math.  It costs $5 for a box of six replacement heads.  (Let's not even consider what I spent for the wands initially.)  That's effectively 83 cents per cleaning.

Yesterday, I nipped out to Ikea and spent 99 cents on a toilet brush.  (Was there a greener, recycled plastic option?  Dunno.  I'll wrestle with that in a few years when we replace the brushes.)  That brush, plus a sprinkle of Bon Ami, will get the job done for a fraction of the cost.  Let's say I use the brush for two years, or about 100 toilet cleanings.  I suspect I'll go through about $3 worth of Bon Ami in the same period.  

That is FOUR CENTS per cleaning - or a savings of 79 cents every week.

Over the course of year, that's $40.  Multiplied by our four bathrooms?  $160.  No wonder Clorox advertised their ToiletWand system so aggressively.  They talked me into parting with a lot of cash!

I'm starting to get it.  I knew we couldn't afford to NOT go green, but I'm delighted to realize that we can save money, along with the planet.

Hallogreen

Somehow, the good people at Grandin Road decided I was a likely prospect to purchase items such as a $200 inflatable haunted house to go on our lawn, and so they sent me a catalog.

We don't have a lawn.  We have a sidewalk in front of our rowhouse.

Anyway, while I'm not about to buy something so dramatic - where we interested in decorating, it would be all cardboard cut-out tombstones and $5 worth of reusable cobweb - it did make me think that we haven't wrestled with what to do about my favorite holiday of the year.

Since I've been reading Diane's Big Green Purse, I'm well aware of the problems presented by major chocolate manufacturers.  In brief, beyond the obvious packaging, there's the real environmental impact of deforestation and the problems of child labor on cocoa farms.

All of a sudden, I can live without my Reese's peanut butter cups, thanks.

But what do I do about Trick'or'Treat?  Veggie Mom, my neighbor who tends to be so health-obsessed I fear her boy is going to rebel by sneaking out to McDonald's as a teenager, opts for pretzel packs.  I considered hitting Whole Foods to see if I could find fair trade organic chocolate in single-servings, but that clashes with my cheap gene.

The drugstore has bouncy balls that look like eyes and plastic spider rings - but is that stuff any higher up on the moral ladder than snack-sized Snickers?  After all, betcha those gew gaws were all Made in China under, ahem scrupulously monitored working conditions.

I've got a few weeks to wrestle with this one, but it does feel like there's no truly green way out, other than skipping the holiday entirely.  

And that is just NOT an option.