some days, I'm as soggy as this bowl of delicious Milk-Makin Oatmeal
My mother doesn't read my blog (or any blogs, really), and it's a good thing. She would positively cringe over my use of the word crappy today. So uncouth, she'd tsk.
Uncouth, perhaps. But also entirely accurate. I started SortaCrunchy seven years ago when I was just beginning to find my way in the world of granola-crunchin', no-shampooin', patchoulli-smellin' natural living. Really, the only two crunchy practices that marked our life at the time were cloth diapering and extended breastfeeding.
Through the years, my desire and ability to practice natural family living has ebbed and flowed. Some years, I fall heavy on the crunchy, and some years, I lean hard on the sorta.
Lately, we are all about the sorta. This afternoon, as I popped the top on my daily Diet Coke, I got to thinking about all the ways in which I am missing the mark in the land of the hippie bliss.
So, brothers and sisters. I confess. These are my non-crunchy ways:
Dear Dinky Hocker, this is my smack. Cannot quit it. Don't even know if I want to anymore. Cutting myself back to one a day is a huge victory.
We've long-since established the public schooling, the c-sections, and the appreciation for but lack of desire for urban homesteading. But I haven't shared that we are vaccinating the babies pretty much on schedule. I KNOW SHUT UP DON'T SHOOT ME. Another post for another day. If you can stick around for that.
Sometimes I drive through McDonald's for a large Diet Coke and a McChicken on my way to Whole Foods and I am not even kidding about that. Then I sit in my van in the parking lot and dine on chemicals and shame.
Let's see, what else?
Crunchy-minded parents are generally averse to those darned mainstream "baby holders" like swings, bouncy seats, and cribs. But, y'all. I'm just one person. Two babies. One person. Something's gotta give. So the boys are SOMETIMES held by non-humans.
I don't know. I mean, I guess they are thriving.
I've told you before that I just can't get the no-poo thing to work for me, but what's even worse is that I mostly use Mr. John Frieda's color protecting shampoo for red. I think it's pretty much made of phthalates and all the evil things.
Also, I wash our laundry in Tide Original. Even cloth diapers! It's heresy!
We are over our heads right now. Like, we have to look up to see Survival Mode. As such, the girls have had pretty much unlimited access to screen time this summer. But wait, it gets better slash worse. Guess how the babies prefer to go to sleep? Swaddled up with pacis in (because oh yeah, we do pacifiers, too! wheeeee!) laying on our bed WATCHING TV. Dear Lord. I'll be surrendering my Crunchy Card now.
So yes, here we are with all the crappy at crunchy. Thankfully, I'm still soldiering on to breastfeed twins, co-sleep with them, and continuing to use cloth wipes, or else I would totally be chased right out of Crunchy Town.
So. You know I love a confessional! So spill it. Crunchy confessions or otherwise - let's hear what you wanna 'fess up to!