Anyway, my package pick-up slip was none of these annoying things, but the mystery still prevails. According to the slip, it was something I have to sign for, but it wasn't a huge box of things, it was just a packet (as opposed to the other options of a letter, catalogue, or perishable item). This is where I stroke my chin with a mock-thoughtful squint and wonder if it's the free cloth diaper I signed up to get.
Oh yeah, bask and revel in the sheer intensity of the lame mom-ness I've just described. I'm getting excited about whether or not the mailman missed a chance to give me something in which to catch baby feces, direct from the source. And not just something that acts as a repository for my child's bodily waste - oh no! It's something that can be washed and re-used in the most earth-friendly, Captain Planet, hug-a-tree sort of way to consistently aid in the disposal of my baby's excretions for months to come. And I'm excited about this. Dear Lord, what has happened?
Okay, I kid. ...er, slightly. I mean, I get excited about tiny baby socks and tiny newborn-sized onesies, and the fact that I have about 3 meters of grey stretchy cloth to tie around my middle and hold a baby in. If we're being honest here, free cloth diapers coming in the mail aren't too far a step from being excited over any of these other cute-and-diminutive-but-otherwise-nondescript necessities for the child that I'm about to spawn nearly any day now.
I wonder what colour it is. Having just purchased half of what will be our cloth diaper supply the other day (that's waiting to come in the mail, too), I'm curious to see just what sort of reality I've let myself in for with cloth diapering. I mean, my mom and my mother-in-law both cloth diapered us as babies. Obviously, things have changed quite a bit on that front in the past 28 years or so. At least, one would surely hope so. If portable phones could shrink down to about 1/6 their original size in that time frame, it'd be nice to think that some of the creative and innovative genius of the times could be harnessed to improve the technology of containing and removing baby poop.
Somewhere in the midst of Gilmore Girls rants, laundering baby clothes, and packing a hospital bag, I'm sure that I haven't yet completely lost my mind. In fact, I hereby justify my weird excitement to get a diaper in the mail thus: since I'm about to be a mom to an outside baby with outside baby needs, it's rational to invest thought and energy into giving a crap about how I meet those needs...including the need to have one's waste properly taken care of. And the fact that the diapers come in super-cute colours doesn't hurt, either. Hey, if I can't go blow some money on fancy new leather boots (oh, how I wish) or trendy new autumn clothes pour moi (soon, my precious, very soon...), at least I can find pleasure in the things I need to buy. Like baby diapers!
Oh yeah...update: Turns out my mystery package was a surprisingly-prompt set of cloth diapers that I'd ordered just a day or two before. Considering that I placed my order late at night on the website, I'm doubly impressed that the things got shipped out as quickly as they did! The inserts are now spinning away in the dryer (the instructions say they do best when pre-washed before first use) and I'm now slightly closer to having my hospital bag finished! For more on the wonder of cloth diapering (and part of the reason I decided to go this route), check the lovely Petersiks over on Young House Love with this cloth diapering post.
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