1952ISH KIND OF KID

Dear Spike:

A few months back I learned that children today are potty training, on average, more than a year later than they were in the 1950s.

It knocked me off my chair.

A little perspective: In the 1960s we sent a man to the moon. In the 70s we created a baby in a test tube. In the 80s we learned how to read human DNA so exactingly that it could be used as evidence in a criminal trial. And in the 90s we revolutionized communication through the internet.

Yet in all the years that have passed since the decade in which the polio vaccine was created, we never figured out how to help kids get our of diapers faster?

Wow.

My incredulity sparked a conversation with your mother about what we would do to help you be a 1952ish kind of kid. That, combined with our 2007ish devotion to making sure you have a planet to live on and my own 1929ish frugalness led us to the decision to raise you in cloth diapers (which, we’ve concluded, promote earlier potty training, are more environmentally friendly and are cheaper than disposable nappies).

Sure, we figured, cloth would be a bigger hassle. But with doorstep pickup diaper services available to do the laundry, we’d manage.

Except for one thing: The only diaper service in Utah just went out of business.

I know, I know: It’s Utah, right? Land’o’baby. The place where you can have 10 kids and still be the smallest family on the block.

It doesn’t make any sense, I know, but it’s true. Want to ‘go cloth’ in Zion? You’ve gotta wash it yourself.

There are many times in life that you are going to find your determination to live out your values stretched thin by your desire to do what’s easiest on your time, patience and pocketbook.

Shortly after we moved into our first home, for instance, your mother and I took an afternoon off to price compare at three grocery centers: a natural foods store, a chain store near our home and a Super Wal-Mart on the west side of town.

The bottom line quickly became the bottom line: Groceries at Wal-Mart were a third cheaper than at the local chain store. And to shop at the natural foods store, we decided, we’d have to take out a second mortgage on the house.

While not fans of Wal-Mart’s business and labor practices, we swallowed our disdain and did our twice-monthly shopping sprees there.

Ultimately, life changed a bit. I got a raise at work and your mother and I both grew ill at the thought of repeatedly returning to the enormous, crowded, soulless edifice that is Wal-Mart. We still can’t afford to shop at the natural foods store — as likely would be our preference if money was no object — but we’ve found a bit of a balance: We take regular walks to the neighborhood chain store to pick up our groceries. And we don’t so much as drive past the Wal-Mart anymore.

At the same time, we don’t judge people who choose to shop at mega stores. For one thing, I’m not sold on the idea that the comparative evil of Wal-Mart is all that much worse than the chain we now shop at (or even the expensive natural foods store down the road, for that matter.) And moreover, I know that for some people, the bottom line is the bottom line. We’ve been there, after all.

In this world, those who follow good intentions into oblivion (“I’d let my children starve before I shopped at Wal-Mart”) are called lunatics. Those who only follow their self interests and selfish desires (“So what if my Hummer only gets 10 miles per gallon? It looks so cool!) are called assholes.

As in all things, balance in key — though when you err, my dear, I’d prefer you do so on the side of being a lunatic.

Which brings me back to the nappies: We’ve decided to forge ahead with cloth, but with an emergency supply of disposals on hand, just in case.

That’s the right balance for us, for now.

Love,
dad