Babies Gone Wild

My friend Jen directed me to a very interesting New York Times article today, and I’d like to share it with you. In the piece, entitled Baby’s Latest: Going Diaperless, we meet a few parents who are totally over diapers. They practice elimination communication, which is a diaper-free method of child-rearing, and also maybe one day a dating show on MTV2. The idea behind E.C. is that diapers destroy the earth and your baby’s butt. Cloth diapers are messy and hard to clean. Your baby is smart and can learn to hold his poop. Let your baby poop in a bowl.

At first I was like, “ew,” then I was like, “well…” then I thought, “come on!” and then I checked my Facebook.

The first thing that caught my attention was the leading image of an adorable baby, Loren, being held above a toilet at a store. I mean, really cute baby, and great name. And oh look, there’s a shot of him with his dad, down below. He’s butt-out in an eco-friendly baby store, like a boss. But then I thought, how will Loren feel when he’s a teenager and all of his friends learn that a baby picture of him pooping was published in The New York Times? Probably not great, that’s how. He’ll be at a movie, trying to yawn his arm around a girl, and she’ll say, “Oh no you don’t. I’m not getting pooped on.” Her comment won’t even make sense. It’ll be so far from a “good one,” and yet still…

Against my lifelong instinct to only look at the pictures, I read the article. Apparently, there are “‘diaper-free meetups’ where parents exchange tips like how to get a baby to urinate on the street between parked cars.” So, that’s where all those girls in the East Village learned it.

The article goes on to describe how the mothers train the babies in Pavlov’s dog fashion, so that eventually Mom can make a sound, and baby does his thang “over the toilet or the sink.” Oooooooook. Not over the sink, please. That’s where I rinse my lettuce.

Luckily, the mothers “usually put them [diapers] on at night and for trips to stores, restaurants and the like…” Phew.  “…though not necessarily for naps or going to the park, where it is easier to go on the ground or behind a tree.” Well, well, well. Looks like I’ve been damning the neighbor’s dachsund, when really Loren is to blame! There’s got to be a fine for letting your baby poop in the park. A spokeswoman from the NYC health department agrees that this is super gross.

Next, a woman claims that “at three weeks, her daughter could hold her bowel movements until she was put over the bowl.” That is either a) really impressive, b) terrifying, because that’s certainly a demon-baby, or c) going to cause a lot of trouble around breakfast time in a few years (“Bella, not on my Corn Flakes!”). Maybe all three.

A woman goes on to say that she has seen babies pooping in sinks at parties, which sounds like a really adorable version of Animal House. Also, I’m glad I’m not friends with those people. I’d leave all the parties.

The closing line of the piece, made by an avid E.C. practitioner, really sums it all up: “I don’t think you can walk down Fifth Avenue and just let your baby poop on the sidewalk.” No. You definitely cannot do that.

Perhaps E.C. is the way to go. If you have the time and energy to make faces and sounds at your baby until he learns to defecate in a bowl, then more power to you. But even just a few  months is a long time to clean up baby poop, and at some point your kid might realize what’s going on and just start messing with you.

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Home Alone

As some of you might know, I’m pretty strong (I can do 10 push-ups, regular-style). Last weekend, my super-human strength got the best of me, when I pushed my bedroom window down with a little too much gusto, sending a crack down the side. I was like :\

Today my super, Luis, came by at 9:15 am to replace the cracked window. He made it sound like the whole ordeal would take about 2 maybe 3 hours, because the window shop was “right there” (he pointed out the window, and I live on the 6th floor, so he may have been pointing across the street or to Queens). Fine, I thought. I’ll kick up my heels and do a little work from home. And that’s just what I did.

Those of you who work 9-5 jobs (or 10-6, as it were) will probably agree that it is very strange to be at home in the middle of the day. I can’t say that I’ve ever spent a non-holiday weekday at home without being sick. I was majorly confused. Should I shower? Do I have to put on daytime clothes? When can I eat again? I didn’t make any sudden moves, but eventually, life did begin.

I had never been in my current apartment during a weekday at all, because I haven’t gotten sick in nearly a year (I’m going to get bronchitis tomorrow), so there were lots of things I discovered about my neighborhood. First, I learned that there is a school nearby, because there was a crazy fantastic marching band playing throughout the day. I was almost glad that my entire window had been removed; all the easier to hear my little Nick Cannon’s. I also went for a run, and it turns out Crown Heights is quite the lively neighborhood during sunshine hours. My heart almost exploded when I jogged past a group of teachers walking about 20 2-year-olds in private school uniforms. They were terrifyingly cute. I don’t think they were the same students who were playing the drum line music, but, someone, make that movie regardless.

I also learned that the more I eat, the more I need to eat. After my post-run shower, I figured it was time for lunch (it was much too early for lunch), and so I fixed myself a turkey sammie and banana. It was a fine lunch, but 20 minutes later, I found myself rummaging through the refrigerator and cabinets. I had a handful of chocolate chips, half a corn tortilla, some mixed nuts, and a bit of oatmeal cookie. I figured I’d gone for a run, so it was cool.

I became nervous around 1pm, when I realized I hadn’t heard from Luis. I texted him, then I called him, then I stared at my phone for 10 minutes. Why was he ignoring me? I’m fun, right? Did I come on too strong? I was becoming frantic. It’s good that we’re not Facebook friends. Eventually, Luis called me back. They guy hadn’t finished yet, but he’d be done soon. I was outraged. What does “soon” mean? It’s almost 2! I told Luis I could leave no later than 3pm. He promised me he’d be back by then.

After reading some book, I looked down at my timepiece aka iPhone. 2:30. I called Luis. The guy was done. He was going to get the window pane now. I did a bit more reading and some light Facebooking, before noticing that it was 3:10. Oh, was I boiling! I called Luis. He was out of breath. “I’m coming,” he panted. “I got it.” Poor Luis.

Finally, Luis and his sidekick, Guy Who is Always With Luis, rang my doorbell. Apparently the window guy got 9 windows to fix today. Talk about a window pain (wink wink)! Anyway, these fellows did a little click, and a little snap, and the next thing I knew everything was as good as new.

I want to say that it was a long and trying process, but I honestly just chilled at home and waited for people to email me all day, which was pretty great. There were a few things I couldn’t do from home, which drove me insane, but all in all, I’d say that things went well. I’m totally thrown off right now, because I feel as though I have been in this house much too long, but tomorrow might be Saturday, right? So who cares?

 

Splish Splash

If there’s one thing I don’t want to see on broadcast television, it’s D-list celebrities jumping off a diving board. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what Splash! is. I’m tired of watching almost-famous people do anything, and I certainly don’t want to see them in bathing suits, jumping off of a board week after week. I personally have never jumped off of a diving board (it stems from a traumatic experience at a public pool as a wee babe…it’s a long story), but I imagine that it is equal parts scary and difficult. So, kudos to these freaks for giving it a whirl. But these TV execs really need to pull it together. It sounds lame and boring, and the lineup is, well…

Kareem Abdul Jabar: He’s a legendary sport-man, so not a bad choice. But he’s so tall, I bet he dives in, and his feet are in the air while his fingertips graze the bottom of the pool. That’s dangerous.

Louie Anderson: At first I thought this was Honey Boo Boo’s mom, but no. This is Louie Anderson, whom you might know from that episode of The Tonight Show with Jay Leno, and his stand-up comedy special Big Baby Booomer, which is rumored to have aired on CMT.

Drake Bell: This fellow starred in the Nickelodeon show Josh & Drake, where he played the character in the wheelchair. Wait, no that was Degrassi. And that’s the wrong Drake. Nevermind, I have no idea who this is.

Chuy Bravo: Chuy is the very small Latino from Chelsea Lately. He has written a book called Little Nuggets of Wisdom. Poor Chuy.

Brandi Chastain: She won a soccer game and ripped off her shirt.

Rory Bushfield: The show’s website describes Rory as and “extreme skiing air-hound,” so I guess he’s part dog part bird? I imagine that this creature is not very good at swimming or diving.

Nicole Eggert: At age 5, Nicole was Miss Universe in the “Petite” division. I don’t know why that even exists, and her participation makes me distrustful of her. But then she was on Charles in Charge (cool), but then Baywatch (wack), then Boy Meets World (ow!), then she made a Funny or Die video making fun of her weight gain (equal parts yow! and huh?…because she probably weighs about 140 lbs.).

splashKeisha Knight Pulliam aka My Girl (this is what I always call the only black woman on any show): You probably know KeKe best as Rudy, the adorable youngest daughter from The Cosby Show. You might also know her from this Chingy video or from Beauty Shop. You do not know her from Madea Goes to Jail. She was in it, but I can only hope that you did not watch it. You still my girl though, Keisha.

Ndamukong Suh: This guy’s name is soooo hard to say. His parents are from Jamaica and Cameroon. He is the same age as me but six times my size, so he’s probably not great at diving.

Katherine Webb: Katherine was in some beauty contests. She’s pretty. That’s all.

Kendra Wilkinson: Don’t pretend like you are too high-brow to know who this is. Kendra was one of the Girls’s Next Door on E! She lived with Hef from about the time she could drive a car until the time she could rent a car. Then she married an NFL player and they had a reality show, where the theme song lyrics were “Go Kendra! Go Kendra!” She’s a mom.

So, there’s your gang of winners. I haven’t seen a single episode, and I don’t think I ever will, especially now that Kendra is off…according to the web, she got nervous at the end of the board and quit in a teary fit. She apologized to fans via Twitter, as you do. If you want to watch the video over and over again, you can do so here. So go ahead, and do that.

In conclusion, this show looks like the worst. I think that reality shows should include fewer swim suits and unimportant (yet tan) people and more puppies and free giveaways to viewers at home. But obviously I’m wrong, because they keep on making them, and people keep on watching.