I had some friends come round today who we haven’t seen in quite a while. At one point we were really close to the bloke (he was the only person who new me and my husband were dating when we were trying to hide it from our collective boss), but over the years we have grown apart. Anyway little Emily is a bit of a magnet for attracting people you haven’t seen in a while, so round they came with a Ewan the Sheep snugly which is now coated in dribble.
Some reminiscing happened about our alcohol fuelled youth and the antics the three of us got up to when we worked together. We talked jäger bombs and dodgy dancing and caught up on the scraps of information we had about old colleagues. “Blah blah got fat! So-n-so was sacked!” Eventually conversation turned to how grown up we now are, with mortgages, marriage and kids taking centre stage.
As with most of my meet ups these days, my boob had to come out. Emily is whimpering, sucking her hand down to the bone and trying to eat anything that goes even remotely near her mouth. It’s feeding time (again!) in Emily world! Nearly 11 weeks in, I really don’t care where I get my boob out and who I get my boob out in front of. I’m currently trying to collect Norfolk landmarks and can already claim Roys of Wroxham, Wroxham Barns, Chapelfields, The Mall and Nandos. I’ve also had it out in my boss’ office. I’m beyond worrying and know I’m doing the right thing. So I sure as hell ain’t gonna think twice about getting it out in my own living room, regardless of who is round. Anyway this sparked a huge conversation on breastfeeding, the benefits, the challenges and the fact that there aren’t many people that do it for as long as I have. (Quite proud of this!)
After discussing what goes in, naturally we discussed what comes out. Because it did come out during our conversation. Our friends then catch a glimpse of our gorgeous reusable nappy; a Bambino Miosolo in the Pandamonium print. A personal fave! Yet another topic for major discussion. I spoke about the fact that it takes 500 years for a nappy to decompose, meaning that every disposable nappy ever used still exists in a landfill somewhere. I talked about the money saving benefits, after explaining to my friend that newborns can go through 12 nappies a day when he had guessed two or three. Ha!
Three hours later we had talked through these topics in great detail and my friend said “I think it’s great! You’re like new age parents.” I laughed at the time and responded that I did feel like a bit of a hippy. However, afterwards it got me thinking, breastfeeding and washable nappies are hardly new concepts. In fact, they are the exact opposite. What Dan and I are doing is using traditional parenting techniques that were used long before the existence of today’s alternatives. And the reason is because it makes sense to us. I can count on the fingers of one hand what Emily has consumed and can do the same for the chemicals that have touched her bum.
And when I look at my daughter, smiling and giggling away, she is clearly not suffering as a consequence of the decisions we’ve made. Therefore I will standby them and defend them to anyone who calls me mad or says that I should give myself a break. I like this “new age parenting”! It suits us.