As a mother who is permanently attached to a stroller, I've formed a new appreciation for those members of our society who are bound to a wheelchair. Naturally, I have it much easier - I can pick up the stroller with all my might and carry it up stairs, if need be. A handicapped person cannot.
So, here is a little bit of how-to on taking babies on a subway:
(Some background on my perspective: I'm not talking about subways that have elevators, drive-on platforms, and such. I'm talking about the old trolley cars that have 3 stairs at all entrances and exits, so you MUST negotiate stairs with a baby, a stroller and a diaper bag.)
1. Start with a plan. Make sure you know where you are going before you get to the train station so that you're not checking the subway map as you're trying to negotiate the train car. And get your money out in advance.
2. Once you get to the subway, scope out the surroundings. Check if there are any strapping men around who seem like they would be helpful in getting the stroller up the stairs. Make eye contact and smile at them in that damsel-in-distress sort of way. Best if you select someone who is married and will have little interest in you sexually, otherwise they may get the wrong idea.
3. If you are successful in getting a fellow passenger to help you, thank them profusely, and if possible in a way that the rest of the passengers can hear. That way, others may feel guilty for not helping you and will do it for someone else at a later date.
4. Once you reach your destination, thank your lucky stars profusely for the fact that strollers come with wheels and straps and that just this time, your child was kept from sticking her tiny little hands into all the dirty crevasses of the subway car by those magic things called straps.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Ms. Right or Ms. Right Now
So, you are all thinking that I'll spend some of your precious reading time espousing on the value of a good relationship and the importance of choosing the right partner? Well, sort of.
It's not the romantic relationship that I'm talking about. I'm talking about a business relationship. A friend who is expecting recently mentioned that she had discussed doing part time work with her boss post baby and was flatly turned down. The reason?
Well, it's more complicated than one sentence can really describe. I can see the scenario here and this is complete conjecture. A busy boss, gets out of an exec level meeting, walks back to her set of offices/cubes to dish out work to her minions. She needs them right there, right now. Or does she? Could she perhaps put together an email and send off specific duties via the web to be completed by clearly stated deadlines? Of course, she can. Or she should be able to do. (As a side note, I am using she here, but it's really meant to be he or she.)
I think that we're still a couple of decades away from being able to work in such a virtual environment. Of course there are plenty of companies that operate virtually already, but it's not mainstream yet. It won't be until The Boss starts being able to type just as quickly as she can speak and minions start being just as responsive to written orders as they are to verbal ones. How long do we have until this virtual world takes over? I'm not sure. Probably at least another decade.
So, what does this have to do with being Right or being Right Now? I think, and hope, that in the virtual world, more and more women can work part time from home and thus be Ms. Right and not Ms. Right Now. With the baby boomers retiring we'll need all the extra manpower, or womanpower I should say, that we can get. Also, I think that it will be liberating for the generation of moms who had to choose and for those who will follow them.
I am lucky enough that my work can be done from my computer at home, part time, when I get to it and in a big part that's because I work for myself. Most others are not this lucky. They require actual employment at, as James Bond said "an honest job". With benefits. And a steady paycheck.
So, the next time you snub at someone who works part time, give some real thought to how much time you are really needed at your job and how much time you surf the web. I'm guessing it's only 60% or so.
It's not the romantic relationship that I'm talking about. I'm talking about a business relationship. A friend who is expecting recently mentioned that she had discussed doing part time work with her boss post baby and was flatly turned down. The reason?
Well, it's more complicated than one sentence can really describe. I can see the scenario here and this is complete conjecture. A busy boss, gets out of an exec level meeting, walks back to her set of offices/cubes to dish out work to her minions. She needs them right there, right now. Or does she? Could she perhaps put together an email and send off specific duties via the web to be completed by clearly stated deadlines? Of course, she can. Or she should be able to do. (As a side note, I am using she here, but it's really meant to be he or she.)
I think that we're still a couple of decades away from being able to work in such a virtual environment. Of course there are plenty of companies that operate virtually already, but it's not mainstream yet. It won't be until The Boss starts being able to type just as quickly as she can speak and minions start being just as responsive to written orders as they are to verbal ones. How long do we have until this virtual world takes over? I'm not sure. Probably at least another decade.
So, what does this have to do with being Right or being Right Now? I think, and hope, that in the virtual world, more and more women can work part time from home and thus be Ms. Right and not Ms. Right Now. With the baby boomers retiring we'll need all the extra manpower, or womanpower I should say, that we can get. Also, I think that it will be liberating for the generation of moms who had to choose and for those who will follow them.
I am lucky enough that my work can be done from my computer at home, part time, when I get to it and in a big part that's because I work for myself. Most others are not this lucky. They require actual employment at, as James Bond said "an honest job". With benefits. And a steady paycheck.
So, the next time you snub at someone who works part time, give some real thought to how much time you are really needed at your job and how much time you surf the web. I'm guessing it's only 60% or so.
Friday, September 19, 2008
The secret life of babies
I want you to think back a little bit. When was the last time that you went to sleep parallel to your bed and woke up perpendicular to it? It sounds like an odd question, doesn't it. I'll get back to it in a little while.
I went to a La Leche League meeting when my daughter was about 2 months old and one of the leaders, when asked whether one baby's frequent nursing at night was a symptom of co-sleeping, answered that it's perfectly normal for babies to wake up at night frequently to nurse and that as a mother you don't want your baby to sleep through the night anyway because you'll miss out on the bonding of nursing at night. That's total crap.
From the moment a new baby makes it into the life of a family, the mother, father and everyone who hears that baby crying at night - the neighbors, the neighborhood cat, the cops driving by on night patrol - want that baby to sleep from 8pm to 6 am at least. Continuously. Without crying or needing a diaper change or nursing.
I can appreciate the challenge here. Dr. Sears says that babies love to practice their newly acquired skills at night. They wake up and sit if they've just learned to sit up, or walk around the crib if they've just learned to walk. They roll, turn over, play with their pacifier, play with the crib bumper, kick off their blanket. Sometimes they bang their pacifier against the crib bars, reminiscent of the way prisoners bang their metal cups along their cell bars. This problem of playing at night is exacerbated by the short sleep cycles that babies have, and so if it seems that your infant is waking up every hour, it's because they probably are.
As I write this post, the clock reads 4:53am. My daughter is sound asleep after her now-all-too-regular 4 am feeding and I am wide awake. In fact, she fell asleep while nursing in my arms, warm and snugly. I'm debating the benefits of using the same remedy on myself - a warm glass of milk and a cuddle with something warm. I've nixed the idea of the milk and settled for water off my bedside table. The computer is really warm and I'm snuggled with it in bed. And now that I've put the post to electronic memory, I'm hoping that I won't be staying up much longer, placticing my newly acquired skill of blogging.
I went to a La Leche League meeting when my daughter was about 2 months old and one of the leaders, when asked whether one baby's frequent nursing at night was a symptom of co-sleeping, answered that it's perfectly normal for babies to wake up at night frequently to nurse and that as a mother you don't want your baby to sleep through the night anyway because you'll miss out on the bonding of nursing at night. That's total crap.
From the moment a new baby makes it into the life of a family, the mother, father and everyone who hears that baby crying at night - the neighbors, the neighborhood cat, the cops driving by on night patrol - want that baby to sleep from 8pm to 6 am at least. Continuously. Without crying or needing a diaper change or nursing.
I can appreciate the challenge here. Dr. Sears says that babies love to practice their newly acquired skills at night. They wake up and sit if they've just learned to sit up, or walk around the crib if they've just learned to walk. They roll, turn over, play with their pacifier, play with the crib bumper, kick off their blanket. Sometimes they bang their pacifier against the crib bars, reminiscent of the way prisoners bang their metal cups along their cell bars. This problem of playing at night is exacerbated by the short sleep cycles that babies have, and so if it seems that your infant is waking up every hour, it's because they probably are.
As I write this post, the clock reads 4:53am. My daughter is sound asleep after her now-all-too-regular 4 am feeding and I am wide awake. In fact, she fell asleep while nursing in my arms, warm and snugly. I'm debating the benefits of using the same remedy on myself - a warm glass of milk and a cuddle with something warm. I've nixed the idea of the milk and settled for water off my bedside table. The computer is really warm and I'm snuggled with it in bed. And now that I've put the post to electronic memory, I'm hoping that I won't be staying up much longer, placticing my newly acquired skill of blogging.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
The day pass is $3 for the week
I have to describe to you the day we had today because it's fading into the recesses of my memory all too quickly and it was just too good to be true. It was a comedy of errors from the start.
The day started at 1am. You read that correctly. That's 1am. Not 1pm. Our daughter decided that it was time to party and refused to go to sleep until the wee hour of 3 or 4 or some other such thing. When she woke up well rested at 7am, my husband and I drew straws for who would go to hang out with her and who would get to sleep a little more. I lost.
9:15am: We're leaving the house, on our way to Stroudsburg, somewhere in PA. We needed to stop by a local library to print out some coupons for ACMoore, since we'd be passing it on the way and I needed to get a fill for my yarn habit.
9:45am: We've on our way. Google could not exactly pin point the location of 5540 Rt. 611 but it didn't look too far. There were no numbers that I can spot as we drove (and the one I saw 534 didn't look encouraging), but the slew of abandoned buildings didn't look enticing.
10:05am: We finally get to the municipal center, with the police, etc. offices, and we ask a gentleman if there is a library somewhere near. He swears up and down that the closest library is a clear 5 miles in the opposite direction and that there isn't a library here. He says, go past Stroud Mall, you'll see a Midas, then you can't miss the building, it's on the left, it's huge, yada yada. Disappointed, we pull around the driveway to get back to the exit, and what do we see? Mount Pocono Public Library. It's on the other side of the building where we just had the conversation about the lack of such a library anywhere close.
10:10am: I enter the 2nd floor of the county library, and ask if there are computers with a printer that I can use. The very kind librarian points me to a set, and then, almost absent mindelessly asks if I am a resident. I, with a straight face, say yes. This is where I get in trouble. Since I have no proof that anyone actually pays taxes here, I have to buy a day pass. Undaunted, I ask: "How much is a day pass?" The librarian answers: "It's $3 for the week." It took all of my composure not to laugh at the fact that a day pass is only sold by the week.
10:12am: I head back to the car to get cash from my husband as I realize that I have none. I'm guessing they don't take cards.
10:15am: I sit down at the computer. I find ACMoore.com, I get to the coupons page. The library doesn't have Adobe Reader installed on the computers to I can't open the PDF page with the coupon. Argh.
10:17am: In a cold sweat, I search Google for a web based PDF reader. I find one called Issau or some other such thing (it's actually pretty good). They make me register. I would typically object to such a thing, but I no longer care. I am on a mission.
10:23am: I figure out how to screen shoot from the viewer since I can't figure out how to print from it (there is actually a clear print button, but i was too frazzled to see it). I print one copy. Check it. Pay the required 15cents per page to the librarian. I check my wallet, I have only 30 more cents, so my dreams of printing many coupons in the chance that we'll go back some time later in the week are dashed. I print 2 more pages, empty out my wallet and head back to the car to find one stark raving mad husband who has spent 30 minutes in the car waiting for me to get back from the library he didn't want to go to with coupons to a store he doesn't want to go to.
10:35am: We're finally on our way to Stroudsbourg. 5 miles go by. 7miles go by. 10 miles go by. We've now passed another municipal library. Still no "you can't miss it" building. Still no Midas. Finally at about 11am, we see the library, we see Midas, we see the huge building, and it actually was large and we didn't miss it.
11:05am: We stop at ACMoore. We buy yarn and then we do the calculation: $8 saved - $3 weekly day pass - $0.45 for copies - extra gas. Yeah - we had pretty much broken even.
I have to add another note here. Ever since we arrived here on Friday night, my husband has been in search of a good Chinese place. We didn't find one on Friday night. Since we were heading in a different direction today, we kept an eye out. Guess what? There are no Chinese places besides the greasy-spoon-take-out-joints within a 20 mile radius of the house. Oh, well, I guess we'll have to do this at home.
After we did get to Stroudsburg, we got complemented 4 times on what a nice little boy we have. I think I'll have to sew some flowers onto her jeans. Otherwise, she does look like a boy.
By the way, Stroudsburg is a very nice little town. I don't like that a major route with trucks and all goes right through the center, but otherwise, it's great. We had lunch at great Turkish restaurant called Istanbul cafe. They had fantastic kataifi and excellent Turkish coffee. We should know as my husband had 3 servings.
When we got home, we traded naps and then my husband made ostrich steaks. You read that correctly. Ostrich tastes like a mixture between chicken, turkey and beef. Try to imagine that or go to your local butcher and order some.
The day started at 1am. You read that correctly. That's 1am. Not 1pm. Our daughter decided that it was time to party and refused to go to sleep until the wee hour of 3 or 4 or some other such thing. When she woke up well rested at 7am, my husband and I drew straws for who would go to hang out with her and who would get to sleep a little more. I lost.
9:15am: We're leaving the house, on our way to Stroudsburg, somewhere in PA. We needed to stop by a local library to print out some coupons for ACMoore, since we'd be passing it on the way and I needed to get a fill for my yarn habit.
9:45am: We've on our way. Google could not exactly pin point the location of 5540 Rt. 611 but it didn't look too far. There were no numbers that I can spot as we drove (and the one I saw 534 didn't look encouraging), but the slew of abandoned buildings didn't look enticing.
10:05am: We finally get to the municipal center, with the police, etc. offices, and we ask a gentleman if there is a library somewhere near. He swears up and down that the closest library is a clear 5 miles in the opposite direction and that there isn't a library here. He says, go past Stroud Mall, you'll see a Midas, then you can't miss the building, it's on the left, it's huge, yada yada. Disappointed, we pull around the driveway to get back to the exit, and what do we see? Mount Pocono Public Library. It's on the other side of the building where we just had the conversation about the lack of such a library anywhere close.
10:10am: I enter the 2nd floor of the county library, and ask if there are computers with a printer that I can use. The very kind librarian points me to a set, and then, almost absent mindelessly asks if I am a resident. I, with a straight face, say yes. This is where I get in trouble. Since I have no proof that anyone actually pays taxes here, I have to buy a day pass. Undaunted, I ask: "How much is a day pass?" The librarian answers: "It's $3 for the week." It took all of my composure not to laugh at the fact that a day pass is only sold by the week.
10:12am: I head back to the car to get cash from my husband as I realize that I have none. I'm guessing they don't take cards.
10:15am: I sit down at the computer. I find ACMoore.com, I get to the coupons page. The library doesn't have Adobe Reader installed on the computers to I can't open the PDF page with the coupon. Argh.
10:17am: In a cold sweat, I search Google for a web based PDF reader. I find one called Issau or some other such thing (it's actually pretty good). They make me register. I would typically object to such a thing, but I no longer care. I am on a mission.
10:23am: I figure out how to screen shoot from the viewer since I can't figure out how to print from it (there is actually a clear print button, but i was too frazzled to see it). I print one copy. Check it. Pay the required 15cents per page to the librarian. I check my wallet, I have only 30 more cents, so my dreams of printing many coupons in the chance that we'll go back some time later in the week are dashed. I print 2 more pages, empty out my wallet and head back to the car to find one stark raving mad husband who has spent 30 minutes in the car waiting for me to get back from the library he didn't want to go to with coupons to a store he doesn't want to go to.
10:35am: We're finally on our way to Stroudsbourg. 5 miles go by. 7miles go by. 10 miles go by. We've now passed another municipal library. Still no "you can't miss it" building. Still no Midas. Finally at about 11am, we see the library, we see Midas, we see the huge building, and it actually was large and we didn't miss it.
11:05am: We stop at ACMoore. We buy yarn and then we do the calculation: $8 saved - $3 weekly day pass - $0.45 for copies - extra gas. Yeah - we had pretty much broken even.
I have to add another note here. Ever since we arrived here on Friday night, my husband has been in search of a good Chinese place. We didn't find one on Friday night. Since we were heading in a different direction today, we kept an eye out. Guess what? There are no Chinese places besides the greasy-spoon-take-out-joints within a 20 mile radius of the house. Oh, well, I guess we'll have to do this at home.
After we did get to Stroudsburg, we got complemented 4 times on what a nice little boy we have. I think I'll have to sew some flowers onto her jeans. Otherwise, she does look like a boy.
By the way, Stroudsburg is a very nice little town. I don't like that a major route with trucks and all goes right through the center, but otherwise, it's great. We had lunch at great Turkish restaurant called Istanbul cafe. They had fantastic kataifi and excellent Turkish coffee. We should know as my husband had 3 servings.
When we got home, we traded naps and then my husband made ostrich steaks. You read that correctly. Ostrich tastes like a mixture between chicken, turkey and beef. Try to imagine that or go to your local butcher and order some.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Sleep
"To sleep, perchance to dream". Doesn't that sounds like the best thing? Sweet sleep and some sweet dreams. Ok, I guess it's not from a very warm and cozy play, but at least the sentiment is nice. I can tell you what my dreams are made of: sleeping on nice flowy white sheets, with a soft breeze gliding through the room, waking up to the sound of the birds chirping outside and the smell of pancakes cooking in the kitchen. That's the stuff. Really.
I was walking along the streets of Brookline early one morning, sipping my freshly made Starbucks hot chocolate, thinking to myself that I'd better find a nice long street so that I won't constantly have to think about where to go and which turn to make. So that my road can be straight, and I can be pushing my sleeping child in her stroller without thinking much of anything.
Did you ever notice that all moms with young children have the same look on their face. Underslept, overtired, puffy eyes. We nod to each other the same way that bus drivers nod to each other as they pass. The sort of acknowledgement of the woes and difficulties. The acknowledgement that we understand, better than anybody else on the street.
I loathe mothers who walk out, composed, with make up on, with clean pressed clothing, and head out confidently with their stroller to their Pilates or some other such thing. Then I have to remind myself that in the last 6 months, there has probably been 1 occasion when, with the help of someone, I got out of the house without getting pucked on in the stairwell, with my hair composed, with some makeup on, and with decent clothing. I don't go to pilates. That's the next hurdle. Perhaps baby ups can count for exercise for another two months or so, and then I'll have to find a real exercise routine.
And so, dear readers, I must say: "Goodnight and good luck". May your night be restful. May your baby, if you have one, seize fighting sleep for this just one evening and may you get all the sleep your dreams are made of.
I was walking along the streets of Brookline early one morning, sipping my freshly made Starbucks hot chocolate, thinking to myself that I'd better find a nice long street so that I won't constantly have to think about where to go and which turn to make. So that my road can be straight, and I can be pushing my sleeping child in her stroller without thinking much of anything.
Did you ever notice that all moms with young children have the same look on their face. Underslept, overtired, puffy eyes. We nod to each other the same way that bus drivers nod to each other as they pass. The sort of acknowledgement of the woes and difficulties. The acknowledgement that we understand, better than anybody else on the street.
I loathe mothers who walk out, composed, with make up on, with clean pressed clothing, and head out confidently with their stroller to their Pilates or some other such thing. Then I have to remind myself that in the last 6 months, there has probably been 1 occasion when, with the help of someone, I got out of the house without getting pucked on in the stairwell, with my hair composed, with some makeup on, and with decent clothing. I don't go to pilates. That's the next hurdle. Perhaps baby ups can count for exercise for another two months or so, and then I'll have to find a real exercise routine.
And so, dear readers, I must say: "Goodnight and good luck". May your night be restful. May your baby, if you have one, seize fighting sleep for this just one evening and may you get all the sleep your dreams are made of.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
A League of Their Own
When you become a first time mother, there is a vast array of organizations that are ready and willing to lend you their services. Most are for profit and have some very specific marketing goals in mind. Think Isis Maternity for those of you who are local folk. Not so of the La Leche League (LLL).
I first heard of LLL through a friend who breastfeeds her baby. It seemed like a good thing to think about, but I didn't contact anyone or do anything until I was at home with a 3 week old baby and seriously sore nipples that I didn't know what to do about. I called up a friendly LLL leader (who I had never met or spoken to) who talked me through some things that could be wrong and what I could try for remedy. I can't quite remember what, if anything, of what she said I actually tried and what, if anything, helped. But I very clearly remember that I found great solice from the fact that there was a person on the other end of the line who wanted nothing from me and who was sitting there, ready to listen to my woes and offer advice.
So, why am I telling you such personal and odd facts? Because I want to dispell this notion that LLL is some crazy cult that will make you breastfeed your kid until they are well into college. That is simply not the case. While there are certainly some mothers who are still breastfeeding children well into their 4th year (and I raise an eyebrow on that), the vast majority of the moms who come breasfeed until a year or even less. To anyone who thinks a year is too long to breastfeed, please note that the American Academy of Pediatrics recommends that mothers breastfeed until 1 year. Although maybe some of you with kids think that they are some crazy cooky cult.
And so, if any of you know a pregnant woman or a new mother who wants to breastfeed but may need a little help, send her to http://www.llli.org/ and she's sure to find the help she needs. I've been to 3 meetings and enjoyed all of them.
By the way, I have to mention one story because it's been burning in my memory. I was at a baby shower not that long ago and the LLL came up as a good support group for breastfeeding moms. Then one expecting mother recalled the horror story of her friend who was going to LLL. Yada, yada, yada, the friend gets mastitis and guess what? The evil leaders at LLL were telling her to keep breastfeeding while all she wanted to do was stop because she was in horrible pain. You should see this woman's face. To an unsuspecting deaf onlooker, she was talking about war crimes.
I know mastitis very well - I've had it 3 times. Mastitis may be cured by antibiotics, but you won't get rid of the pain until you empty your plug. If you stop breastfeeding your kid because you have mastitis, you get horrible engorgement because your body still thinks that you should be feeding your baby (and it's right). If that woman thought she was in pain from the infection, she had no idea what was coming!
I first heard of LLL through a friend who breastfeeds her baby. It seemed like a good thing to think about, but I didn't contact anyone or do anything until I was at home with a 3 week old baby and seriously sore nipples that I didn't know what to do about. I called up a friendly LLL leader (who I had never met or spoken to) who talked me through some things that could be wrong and what I could try for remedy. I can't quite remember what, if anything, of what she said I actually tried and what, if anything, helped. But I very clearly remember that I found great solice from the fact that there was a person on the other end of the line who wanted nothing from me and who was sitting there, ready to listen to my woes and offer advice.
So, why am I telling you such personal and odd facts? Because I want to dispell this notion that LLL is some crazy cult that will make you breastfeed your kid until they are well into college. That is simply not the case. While there are certainly some mothers who are still breastfeeding children well into their 4th year (and I raise an eyebrow on that), the vast majority of the moms who come breasfeed until a year or even less. To anyone who thinks a year is too long to breastfeed, please note that the American Academy of Pediatrics recommends that mothers breastfeed until 1 year. Although maybe some of you with kids think that they are some crazy cooky cult.
And so, if any of you know a pregnant woman or a new mother who wants to breastfeed but may need a little help, send her to http://www.llli.org/ and she's sure to find the help she needs. I've been to 3 meetings and enjoyed all of them.
By the way, I have to mention one story because it's been burning in my memory. I was at a baby shower not that long ago and the LLL came up as a good support group for breastfeeding moms. Then one expecting mother recalled the horror story of her friend who was going to LLL. Yada, yada, yada, the friend gets mastitis and guess what? The evil leaders at LLL were telling her to keep breastfeeding while all she wanted to do was stop because she was in horrible pain. You should see this woman's face. To an unsuspecting deaf onlooker, she was talking about war crimes.
I know mastitis very well - I've had it 3 times. Mastitis may be cured by antibiotics, but you won't get rid of the pain until you empty your plug. If you stop breastfeeding your kid because you have mastitis, you get horrible engorgement because your body still thinks that you should be feeding your baby (and it's right). If that woman thought she was in pain from the infection, she had no idea what was coming!
Monday, July 21, 2008
Here comes the G - our first try of the gDiapers
Hello fellow greenies,
I am here to save the planet, one diaper at a time. Well, maybe I won't quite be able to save the planet, that's Al Gore's job, but I hope to make a small impact with my choices as a consumer and a mother.
This whole green thing started my realization that diapers generate a fantastic amount of waste. So, naturally, when I was pregnant, I did research about cloth diapers (I even attended a very long and very boring seminar). We finally bought about $200 worth of cloth diapering supplies, which included fantastic wool diaper covers. These worked for about 3 months, at which point Golda developed a heat rash from all the extra layers of cloth and wool and I had to admit defeat. Not to mention the diapers impeding her ability to move.
Fast forward 2 months later - about 300 disposable diapers are being moved to local landfills.
What to do? What to do?
Thankfully, a friend had tried the gDiaper and since it didn't work for her son, it was available and ready for me to try, which I did today with my daughter. These work pretty well, with some minor issues like the fact that the clips press into her skin and leave scary looking red marks. I think that we can solve most of these by upgrading to Mediums, since she is getting too big for Small and I love the fact that I don't have to empty the trash every day in her room and that we're doing a small thing for the planet.
If I were hired to help the folks at gDiapers improve their product, I would suggest the following:
1. Get rid of the clips (these hold the waterproof layer onto the cover). Replace them with Velcro or some other brilliantly sticky idea. Perhaps even a piece of elastic.
2. Make the bands around the legs tighter. My kid's super chunky thighs were still not quite filling the bands on the Smalls. Imagine what poor little skinny babies have to go through.
3. Include more covers and plastic shields in the starter kit or sell them separately in stores (which they don't do) or online (for cheap - right now, the covers are $17 online, which is about the cost of a super microfiber diaper like BumGenius and thus, is too much). I am also a big believe that you ought to make the money on the inserts - NOT on the covers. Think of printer companies who make money on the cartidges and only scant profit on the printer itself.
4. People love to get fun stuff - like their kid's name on the diapers and different colors for different sizes. I happen to be lucky, that my baby's name starts with a G, but others might like their kids' initials on the diapers as well. You can be the Williams Sonoma of the diaper world.
5. These things have a learning curve. You really need to have some people do demos. Like the Tupperware parties, we'll have diapering parties. Get some experienced moms who have done this, give them some demo equipment (like a bucket to simulate the toilet for a proper flushing demo) and set them loose. An hourly rate plus some commission based on the amount of starter kits they sell. If anyone from gDiapers is reading this - just send a note, I can help.
P.S. If you lose your swishstick (used for turning the insides of the diapers into toilet soup), disposable chopsticks work just as well.
I am here to save the planet, one diaper at a time. Well, maybe I won't quite be able to save the planet, that's Al Gore's job, but I hope to make a small impact with my choices as a consumer and a mother.
This whole green thing started my realization that diapers generate a fantastic amount of waste. So, naturally, when I was pregnant, I did research about cloth diapers (I even attended a very long and very boring seminar). We finally bought about $200 worth of cloth diapering supplies, which included fantastic wool diaper covers. These worked for about 3 months, at which point Golda developed a heat rash from all the extra layers of cloth and wool and I had to admit defeat. Not to mention the diapers impeding her ability to move.
Fast forward 2 months later - about 300 disposable diapers are being moved to local landfills.
What to do? What to do?
Thankfully, a friend had tried the gDiaper and since it didn't work for her son, it was available and ready for me to try, which I did today with my daughter. These work pretty well, with some minor issues like the fact that the clips press into her skin and leave scary looking red marks. I think that we can solve most of these by upgrading to Mediums, since she is getting too big for Small and I love the fact that I don't have to empty the trash every day in her room and that we're doing a small thing for the planet.
If I were hired to help the folks at gDiapers improve their product, I would suggest the following:
1. Get rid of the clips (these hold the waterproof layer onto the cover). Replace them with Velcro or some other brilliantly sticky idea. Perhaps even a piece of elastic.
2. Make the bands around the legs tighter. My kid's super chunky thighs were still not quite filling the bands on the Smalls. Imagine what poor little skinny babies have to go through.
3. Include more covers and plastic shields in the starter kit or sell them separately in stores (which they don't do) or online (for cheap - right now, the covers are $17 online, which is about the cost of a super microfiber diaper like BumGenius and thus, is too much). I am also a big believe that you ought to make the money on the inserts - NOT on the covers. Think of printer companies who make money on the cartidges and only scant profit on the printer itself.
4. People love to get fun stuff - like their kid's name on the diapers and different colors for different sizes. I happen to be lucky, that my baby's name starts with a G, but others might like their kids' initials on the diapers as well. You can be the Williams Sonoma of the diaper world.
5. These things have a learning curve. You really need to have some people do demos. Like the Tupperware parties, we'll have diapering parties. Get some experienced moms who have done this, give them some demo equipment (like a bucket to simulate the toilet for a proper flushing demo) and set them loose. An hourly rate plus some commission based on the amount of starter kits they sell. If anyone from gDiapers is reading this - just send a note, I can help.
P.S. If you lose your swishstick (used for turning the insides of the diapers into toilet soup), disposable chopsticks work just as well.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
"To Zip or Not to Zip" or "The Ode to My Car"
When my daughter was about 5 weeks old, I discovered that my car had a flat tire. Naturally, I did not discover this until I was already on the street, rolling along. Had I been without a baby in a two door car, I would have probably been much more composed. But alas, I was still high on my post-partum hormones, so this was not a calm moment for me. My first instinct was to cry. Which I did not. My second was to call my husband for help, which I did not. My third instinct was to call AAA and use our gold membership for a quick tire change (thankfully, I had a spare in the trunk). Which I did.
As the guy was leaving, I said to him, "Is the spare tire supposed to be so flat?" He said: "Yeah, it's a donut, lady!". Thankfully, my subsequent trip to Natick was without mishaps.
When I got into the car the next day, I yet again discovered that I had a flat tire, this time the spare itself was flat. Aha. Now AAA can't really help. First, I again wanted to cry. Thankfully for my self esteem, I did not. Then I decided to call my husband for help. Thankfully, I nixed that also. Then, I decided to call the only people who could help me - Sullivan Tire down the street from us. They helped! They added air to my spare AND told me 4 hours later that my holy tire was unrepairable.
Fast forward two months later, on a hot summer day, I am cruising to Natick (maybe I shouldn't go to Natick any more) on 4 new tires. I turn on the AC only to realize that there is no AC and the air that's projected at me is just as hot as the air outside (maybe a little hotter). So, I do the only reasonable thing and go to the Sullivan Tire guys again and get some freon. $200 dollars. One week later, I have no AC again! Do you see where this is going? Well, we donated my car with brand new tires to WGBH on June 2nd. It's blue book value was $500 in fair condition and $900 in excellent condition. Guess how much they sold it for? $1400. No joke.
So, why is this post titled, "To zip or not to zip?" As you can imagine, a modern woman in a city hardly needs a full time car. So, I've done the only reasonable thing and signed up for a part time car, a Zipcar to be exact. So, now, I am a Zipster, baby in tow and all. And every time I think that I may need to go somewhere, I say to myself, "To zip or not to zip?" And that is the question.
As the guy was leaving, I said to him, "Is the spare tire supposed to be so flat?" He said: "Yeah, it's a donut, lady!". Thankfully, my subsequent trip to Natick was without mishaps.
When I got into the car the next day, I yet again discovered that I had a flat tire, this time the spare itself was flat. Aha. Now AAA can't really help. First, I again wanted to cry. Thankfully for my self esteem, I did not. Then I decided to call my husband for help. Thankfully, I nixed that also. Then, I decided to call the only people who could help me - Sullivan Tire down the street from us. They helped! They added air to my spare AND told me 4 hours later that my holy tire was unrepairable.
Fast forward two months later, on a hot summer day, I am cruising to Natick (maybe I shouldn't go to Natick any more) on 4 new tires. I turn on the AC only to realize that there is no AC and the air that's projected at me is just as hot as the air outside (maybe a little hotter). So, I do the only reasonable thing and go to the Sullivan Tire guys again and get some freon. $200 dollars. One week later, I have no AC again! Do you see where this is going? Well, we donated my car with brand new tires to WGBH on June 2nd. It's blue book value was $500 in fair condition and $900 in excellent condition. Guess how much they sold it for? $1400. No joke.
So, why is this post titled, "To zip or not to zip?" As you can imagine, a modern woman in a city hardly needs a full time car. So, I've done the only reasonable thing and signed up for a part time car, a Zipcar to be exact. So, now, I am a Zipster, baby in tow and all. And every time I think that I may need to go somewhere, I say to myself, "To zip or not to zip?" And that is the question.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
At the MFA (Museum of Fine Arts), Boston
My husband and I decided to be brave and took our 4 month old daughter to the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston.
There are a lot of things you can learn form a place based on their ability to support a visit with a baby. First of all, I breastfeed my daughter, so I need a place to sit down and feed. As you can imagine, at the museum, the vast majority of benches are in the middle of the galleries, which make them hardly convenient for discreet breastfeeding, even with a wrap.
After about two hours of browsing the galleries and trying to note a discreet bench, we decided that we’d had enough dirty looks about our crying kid and that it was time to feed. I asked one of the very helpful MFA employees (no sarcasm here, they really are helpful) if there was a place I could feed my baby. What did I expect as an answer? I was guessing that she would make some suggestions about some discreet corners that afforded some amount of privacy and a plushy bench. I could not believe my astonishment when she said that there was a changing station and nursing room directly behind us, enclosed by, don’t laugh, glass doors. Upon further inspection we realized that the doors were not see-through.
Once inside this triangular room, we checked the walls several times to make sure that there wasn’t another door through which we were supposed to pass to get to the nursing/changing room. My husband even checked the map to see if this led somewhere else. It did not. I must mention here that although the rest of the museum was a comfortable cool temperature, this closet, I mean, nursing room, had no AC and was decidedly muggy and hot. I’ll leave it to you to imagine how much sweat poured off me while I was holding my very warm baby for 40 minutes.
Here is a list of items in the changing station/nursing room, from right to left as you enter: one(1) narrow wood bench, one (1) piano with its own small bench, two (2) poles with extendable ropes (used for orchestrating masses into lines or blocking off areas), four or five (4 or 5) bookcases stacked into the corner, one (1) bronze replica of the Lincoln memorial, four (4) boards the size of a door stacked in the other corner, and one (1) set of lockers, presumably used for employee belongings since some of them were locked. Notice that nowhere in this list is a comfortable chair or couch for nursing, a sink for rinsing bottles, a bottle warmer or a changing table. I’m not sure where we would have changed our baby if we didn’t have a stroller with us, but probably the banged up, slightly dirty marble floor would be the only option.
While trying to pass the time, my husband and I tried to think of good uses for the various objects in the room. For starters, the piano is obvious. While you feed your child, your husband can play some Mozart to stimulate their brain development. The replica of the Lincoln memorial must be there so that you can rub his right knee and get some luck, ‘cause you’ll need all the luck you can get. The bookshelves are part of an obstacle course along with the ropes for your other children. The boards are probably meant to divide the room should another mother come in to feed her baby, which she would have to do on the floor because I was occupying the only bench suitable for this process.
I understand the issue at hand here. The MFA is going through a series of major renovations and everyone’s time and energy is consumed with making this happen. And as a parent who wants her child to grow up with culture and to have a good museum nearby that she can visit on class trips or weekend jaunts with her parents I am going to cut the museum a little slack here. But I can’t imagine that there isn’t a small chair that can be spared and a table that can be added to this room. It doesn’t take much to make a big difference. I would be happy to lend my consulting services to help the museum plan their parents-with-baby experience.
On our way out, we did locate a changing table… It was mounted to the wall in one of the stairways. Not quite the ideal place.
So, what have we learned about the MFA in this trip? They’ve definitely thought about the patron experience, even about their smallest visitors, which is great! A few more finishing touches and the visit will be much better.
There are a lot of things you can learn form a place based on their ability to support a visit with a baby. First of all, I breastfeed my daughter, so I need a place to sit down and feed. As you can imagine, at the museum, the vast majority of benches are in the middle of the galleries, which make them hardly convenient for discreet breastfeeding, even with a wrap.
After about two hours of browsing the galleries and trying to note a discreet bench, we decided that we’d had enough dirty looks about our crying kid and that it was time to feed. I asked one of the very helpful MFA employees (no sarcasm here, they really are helpful) if there was a place I could feed my baby. What did I expect as an answer? I was guessing that she would make some suggestions about some discreet corners that afforded some amount of privacy and a plushy bench. I could not believe my astonishment when she said that there was a changing station and nursing room directly behind us, enclosed by, don’t laugh, glass doors. Upon further inspection we realized that the doors were not see-through.
Once inside this triangular room, we checked the walls several times to make sure that there wasn’t another door through which we were supposed to pass to get to the nursing/changing room. My husband even checked the map to see if this led somewhere else. It did not. I must mention here that although the rest of the museum was a comfortable cool temperature, this closet, I mean, nursing room, had no AC and was decidedly muggy and hot. I’ll leave it to you to imagine how much sweat poured off me while I was holding my very warm baby for 40 minutes.
Here is a list of items in the changing station/nursing room, from right to left as you enter: one(1) narrow wood bench, one (1) piano with its own small bench, two (2) poles with extendable ropes (used for orchestrating masses into lines or blocking off areas), four or five (4 or 5) bookcases stacked into the corner, one (1) bronze replica of the Lincoln memorial, four (4) boards the size of a door stacked in the other corner, and one (1) set of lockers, presumably used for employee belongings since some of them were locked. Notice that nowhere in this list is a comfortable chair or couch for nursing, a sink for rinsing bottles, a bottle warmer or a changing table. I’m not sure where we would have changed our baby if we didn’t have a stroller with us, but probably the banged up, slightly dirty marble floor would be the only option.
While trying to pass the time, my husband and I tried to think of good uses for the various objects in the room. For starters, the piano is obvious. While you feed your child, your husband can play some Mozart to stimulate their brain development. The replica of the Lincoln memorial must be there so that you can rub his right knee and get some luck, ‘cause you’ll need all the luck you can get. The bookshelves are part of an obstacle course along with the ropes for your other children. The boards are probably meant to divide the room should another mother come in to feed her baby, which she would have to do on the floor because I was occupying the only bench suitable for this process.
I understand the issue at hand here. The MFA is going through a series of major renovations and everyone’s time and energy is consumed with making this happen. And as a parent who wants her child to grow up with culture and to have a good museum nearby that she can visit on class trips or weekend jaunts with her parents I am going to cut the museum a little slack here. But I can’t imagine that there isn’t a small chair that can be spared and a table that can be added to this room. It doesn’t take much to make a big difference. I would be happy to lend my consulting services to help the museum plan their parents-with-baby experience.
On our way out, we did locate a changing table… It was mounted to the wall in one of the stairways. Not quite the ideal place.
So, what have we learned about the MFA in this trip? They’ve definitely thought about the patron experience, even about their smallest visitors, which is great! A few more finishing touches and the visit will be much better.
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