I am not a talker. I am not a mixer. If there are shyer, less sociable people on the planet than me, I hope never to meet them. But cloth diapers and cloth diapering do not shout "try me!" to people. No, mommies and daddies must be dragged, kicking and screaming, to read about persistent diaper odors, peculiar diaper rashes, and the plethora of diapers, covers, wipes, creams, sprays, and fasteners they can use to cover up, wipe off, smear on and attach to their baby's back end. However, once initiated into this dubious world of waste management, I have to say, that they, by and large (and myself included), find themselves strangely fascinated. A striped and speckled raised rash, did you say? With small blue dots in the center of the speckles that resemble a rainbow trout? How interesting.
And so, much to my teenage sons' dismay, I have undertaken this blog. About blogging, they quote from the ThinkGeek catalog, "Never before have so many people with so little to say said so much to so few. "
Drivel notwithstanding, I hope you'll join me now and then for my musings about diapers and life, and about the hit that shappens to both.
