Confession: I might not be as crunchy as I thought

You probably wouldn't accuse me of being a granola mama. I love long showers, a bevy of beauty products and razors. I am not into camping for more than 1 night (unless it's in a cabin or camper). I love to eat meat. You will never find me bra-less outside of the house (omg, scary!). I have a serious lack of green thumb (I call it my brown thumb) and kill almost anything I try to grow. I love bleach and rap music.

I think it's pretty clear that a hippie I am not. (just don't ask my Brother in Law)

I will admit that when it comes to my kids, most (if not all) of my parenting styles lean more towards attachment than anything else and I definitely have more than a few crunchy tendencies. (I mean I WAS raised by two liberal ex-hippies who love The Grateful Dead and Fleetwood Mac)

I love to wear my babies. I breastfeed, sometimes in public, even. I don't mind the occasional co-sleeping night. (Though lately it's become a lot more than occasional, so I might rethinking my stance on that one). I will often forgo cleaning my house in favor of playing with my kiddos down on the (dirty) floor. Much as I love red meat, I try to serve several meals per week that have little or no meat in them so my kiddos will not grow up thinking it's not a meal if there's not meat. I love moccasins. I have been known to attend the occasional folk music festival and dance like a hippie under the stars.

My biggest granola mom trait for the past year is that I have proudly cloth diapered my youngest. I will be truthful, I have felt more than a little smug about it. Every time I changed R's diapers I patted myself on the back for my earthy-ness and felt happy that I was saving the world from one more disposable diaper in a landfill that won't begin to biodegrade for 500 years. I AM GRANOLA MAMA HEAR ME ROAR I practically shouted from the changing table.

A few months ago, however, a lot of that changed. It happened right around the time R stopped exclusively breastfeeding and started eating actual food. Something that I once loved had become more than just a little disgusting. Breastfed baby poop in my washer was one thing, actual turds I had to scrub off in the toliet before washing was another.

Around the same time, hubby started working more, summer trips were in full swing and our schedules went from semi-crazy to absolutely insane. So, you guessed it, I started using disposables just to get me through the madness.

And now, sad as it is to say, I'm scared to go back. I just bought new larger covers and my sweet, sweet Sister in Law sent me a diaper sprayer to use, which she swears will change my life. But, do I really want to?

So there you have it. I admit it. I might not be as crunchy as I thought. Stay tuned to hear whether I put on my big girl panties, suck it up and give it a go again or whether I surrender to the power of convenience.