The Breast Solution

So we're settling in nicely to our new neighbourhood and the brownstone/commune arrangement is working out fabulously. As I type, Saint Sarah is busy washing Dot's cloth nappies in with Peggy's and adding our compost to her compost bin while I, er, I...well anyway...

My three days off work have been great but it's back to work tomorrow. I have my glass bottles sterilized and packed in the mini-cooler ready to go (there are many new frontiers to conquer as a working mum of which the least dignified is surely pumping breast milk in your office. So far I haven't had to attend any high-powered meetings with marketing directors of major Fortune 500 corporations in between sessions, but imagine the bathos of the boardroom to the breast pump when I do).

The reason they're glass bottles is because in between going back to work, moving in, battling a horrendous cold and preparing batches of pureed organic food for Dot, I've been finding the time to obsess anew over the horrors of plastic as they apply to bottlefeeding your baby and storing their food (in case you're interested, all sorts of info to be found here; this link courtesy of Sarah who is as bonkers as I am about this stuff, if not more so). The best alternative I've found so far to the ubiquitos plastic ice cube tray is these food-grade silicone ones; Sarah and I spent hours online last night and couldn't find anything to suggest silicone is bad.

Which is just as well because I also - and I say this tentatively - think I may finally have found a solution to the leaky boob problem in the form of these silicone boob pad thingies. So far so good, anyway.

Gosh you know I am so tired that I think it would be best if I stopped trying to be funny and went to bed now. We think Dot's teething because she's waking up more or less every two hours at the moment. Which means I might get an hour in now if I'm quick.

Odds and Ends

The hubby went to the local pub last night for a drink with two of his mates. I say 'pub'; in fact it looks more like a crap youth club, all cavernous faux-wood vinyl walls, brightly-coloured plastic chairs, wobbly fold-up picnic tables and strip lighting, but he seems to like it, so whatever.

He got home to find me in a chipper mood. "You're awfully flirtatious," he said suspiciously. "What's up?" "I've decided not to write the blog tonight!" I replied gleefully - not because I don't love you all but because it was really nice to have Saturday night completely to myself and also because although I'd done lots of little incremental green things throughout the day, none of them seemed sufficiently groundbreaking to merit a post of their own.

As I've hit my green stride, more days seem to be like this. For example, I'd begun the morning with a homemade pampering session. I remembered my best mate Catherine telling me, back when she was a beauty editor, that the best exfoliant she knew of was sugar and olive oil, and since my gams were in serious need of a pre-holiday spruce up (after 9 months of pregnancy and six of motherhood, they aren't looking their spry-est) I retreated to the bathroom with the Filippo Berio Extra Virgin, Domino's granulated and some organic oats (to create a moisturizing soak) clutched to my chest. I ran a very shallow bath (it barely grazed my mid-bum) and hopped in. This was ambitious, and sure enough I'd barely got my hands all covered in gunk before squawks began emanating from the bedroom. I finished up as quick as I could, then propped Dot next to me as I approximated a bad homemade pedicure, which I'm sure saved water and I know saved money. Not sure it's quite Harbour Island material, though.

Later I did the composting, baked a cake and then set about trying to find eco-friendly alternatives to plastic baby spoons and sippy cups now Dot's no longer a boob-only girl. The Bowery Babes network came through for me as usual with tips on trying a wooden or ceramic baby spoon (so far I've found this spoon, which is lovely and which I will probably get) and SIGG sippy cups. This latter was dangerous because it introduced me to a site called reusablebags.com. Oh dear. I could spend a small fortune on this site. Instead I've restricted myself to a couple of cups for Dot and a larger bottle for me (to make an eco-statement when I get back to work), all made from guaranteed non-leaching materials.

So that was kind of it. I promise to try and find you some drama soon though.

"Now, where's my bottle of wine?" I asked the hubby.

"Oh. I didn't get you one," he said.

Charming. He gets to go to the pub; I stay home to put his first born to bed and what do I get in return? Nada. Not to mention what was the point of having a night off if I couldn't at least get a little bit merry?

"Maybe I'll write the blog after all..." I said. Then, when his face fell, "...or, you could make up for it by cooking the kohlrabi [which by this point had been sitting in the fridge for a week and was in danger of becoming better in the idea than the execution]. I found this Carluccio's recipe."

He agreed and got stuck in.

For the record, the organic kohlrabi from our local River Brook Farm (food miles approx 2, carbon footprint virtually zero) tasted a bit like turnip and "a lot like bamboo shoots", according to the hubby. Unfortunately he managed to serve me the bits that were rather woody, but overall the slightly oily, cuminy, terribly worthy mess was a success (more so than the mangel wurzles we bought from RBF in the autumn). I decided to stick to plan A.

Today, however, the hubby undid all his good work by going snowmobiling with a mate. Way to spew pollutants into the atmosphere for absolutely no material gain.

But his face when he got back was a picture. I suppose a boy's got to get out from under the green thumb every now and then.