07 August 2013


My poor wee man has the worst colic. And that means terrible gas. Stinky, horrible, 'are you sure you are a baby?' gas. Poor thing. He grunts an rumbles and toots and shrieks and moans and putts and generally is a misery right now. Girlchild was lactose intolerant, so part of me is wondering if that could be his issue as well, or if he's just plain garden variety colicky.

As a result, I have been a reticent green mama. I haven't been wanting to deal with cloth diapers and colic, but we are down to our last 6 sposies, so today was a no-cheating cloth diaper day.

He pooped 7 times. In 7 different diapers.

So I guess tomorrow I'm doing laundry. Hopefully it'll be sunny so they can go on the line and get brightened up.

Also, today was cloth diaper christmas. I bought a friend's stash off her a couple of months ago, and we've been using the medieval recreation express-post ever since to get them to me - they finally arrived. I got a giant wet bag pail liner, a small wet bag, a really swank diaper pail, 14 BumGenius diapers, a bummis wrap, and 28 microfibre inserts, some of which are super huge and I am not sure how they work. Tadpole Jones is WAY too small for them right now, but I am stoked.

I am finding my mental state much improved, but the Girlchild pushed a few too many buttons today and I am still remarkably short tempered. Particularly when a 6 year old who knows better wakes me up 5 times in a 40 minute window to ask really unnecessary questions (like, 'when are you getting up?' and 'can I watch my little pony?').

Today I take to bed with me this, and say thank you to Anne Shirley for it:

Tomorrow is always fresh, with no mistakes in it.

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