being less clean

I am loving my decision not to bathe R every day. Trust me, when you've been pleading and reasoning with and then barking at your adorable but willful toddler nonstop since sunrise (e.g., "I know you're teething for...what is it, the 136th time?--but please don't gnaw on my nipple, again"; "Please let's not struggle when I'm trying to change your poopy diaper...ah, poop on my leg; no, sweetie, please don't run away, it's getting scattered...ah, the white carpet"; "What? You want to go for a walk now, when it's 15 minutes before nap time? Then why did you say 'no' the 362 times I asked you previously if you wanted to go for a walk?"; and so on), bath time at the end of a long day is anything but a heartwarming bonding experience. There are lots of protests (when she doesn't want to get in) and water wastage (when she doesn't want to get out), and my 33-year-old back just doesn't have that old pack-mule spring, like it used to. Yesterday I was stupid enough to go out with A and R while wearing heels (yes, yes, I already mentioned the stupid part), R stuck to her "no, daddy" routine the whole night, and I ended up chasing/carrying/dragging R around a very crowded, busy Tokyo neighborhood, dodging bicycles and buses, in heels in case you forgot that part, and my back was killing me all day today.

Ah, there's nothing like having a child to make you start aging triple-time. The first occasion I was ever not carded when buying alcohol was after R came along, and a quick glance in the mirror confirms that was no coincidence. I don't know what's happened to my face. Lately, I've been looking like a Flowers in the Attic version of myself, which shocked me enough to prompt some serious, serious consideration to wearing makeup. I'm too lazy to ever cave and too ignorant to know where to begin, but the desire is out there somewhere.

Anyhow, this new "not bathing my child too often" lifestyle made me realize what a hippy mom I am turning into. Cleaning the house with vinegar. Using a menstrual cup. Lately, I've even decided to give "no poo" (no shampoo) another try. Obviously, the next step is to grow out my armpit hair. Actually, for me, "hippy" and "mom" almost unavoidably go together. (I even learned about menstrual cups from an online mom forum--because after you've had a baby come out of you, I guess you're a little more open about discussing what goes in...?) When I was pregnant with R, I instinctively began seeking out the most natural (i.e., safest) way to live and raise the people in my care--to be honest, I never gave a damn before--and funnily enough, strong soaps and detergents started looking very threatening. I even read, though I don't know if I believe it, that there is good bacteria on your skin that gets lost if you wash too often. Hmmm....

One thing that has always hugely bothered me is the dog. Here I am, trying so hard to keep our floors clean for my baby to crawl on and lick and eat fallen food off of, and the dog comes in after a walk and tracks outdoor grime all over our carpet. I know some people who wipe their pets' feet before they come in. I just can't do that. The amount of bending over (did I mention Edward is a mini dachshund--i.e., stands extremely low to the ground), paw+tummy-wiping, and additional garbage I have to drag down and out of our apartment and over to the garbage pick-up site: My back says no. Do dog shoes sound totally insane? I know there will be the inevitable annoying battle with my daughter, who will want to put on the shoes herself but be unable to, meaning we will be stuck in the entrance hall, trying to leave, for an additional forty minutes. But what is the point of the rest of us so dutifully taking off our shoes at the front door, if the dog doesn't? At least this is Japan, where almost every pooch (except mine) wears clothes, so I doubt we'll get anything but positive attention. In fact, right now, Edward looks pitifully nude when we go out. Maybe the shoes will help redeem his standing amongst the neighborhood canines.