Here's my favorite term that makes no sense to anyone living in the real world: "crunchy," AKA "granola," AKA "you are a big ole hippie." This is the label affixed to those who practice Attachment Parenting, exclusive breastfeeding, cloth diapering, unmedicated births and other such hippie nonsense. As my ninja's 1st birthday peeks around the corner, I feel like saying happy birthday to Crunchy Mandy, the hippie earth mother version of myself that was born sometime last year.
Now, it may not be a huge leap for me to go this direction with my parenting style. After all, I do live outdoors for a large part of every year, I did wear a pair of thrift store Birkenstocks for the majority of high school, I am an expert "dumpster diver," and I do lean so far to the the left that I can't stand up straight, but for me, becoming "crunchy mama" was a gradual and slightly unexpected turn. Now, as in all things mommy-wars, there are certainly the crunchies who would banish me from their tribe so fast that my metaphorical dreadlocks would unravel. I vaccinate my child against diseases, willingly and on the recommended schedule. I still clean with nasty chemical-based products (although I did start using vinegar to clean, but then my dear husband pointed out to me that it was apple vinegar. No wonder it smelled awesome!), I don't make my own soap, or my own anything, really. But here's my full crunchy roster:
Natural Birth: This, I'm sure, was part grit and determination on my part and mostly luck and awesome genetics that allowed me to eject an 8lb 11oz Butterball Turkey intact from my body with no medical intervention whatsoever. However, this is surprisingly the one thing I got the most grief for while planning it. Maybe more on that another day.
Cloth Diapers: My favorite element of crunchy street cred. Here's why: when people realize you cloth diaper, they might think you're crazy, but they also think "Wow, what an amazing and hard-working parent you are! Caring about the earth and your child's well-being, getting poop on your hands just to save the planet?! You. are. a. saint." At least I assume that's what runs through people's brains. It's a guess based on facial expressions. But here's the thing...I don't get poop on my hands, at least not significantly more poop than the average infant-haver. Cloth diapering is theoretically a bit more work, but since it's all I've ever done, I have no comprehension of world where I toss poop filled disposables
in my trash can and how easy-breezy it all is. Plus, there are so many advantages to cloth and it's become so user friendly that even this idiot can do it. It's one of those things that just looks way more high-maintenance than it is. Don't tell anyone! I want to feel superior.
Exclusive/On Demand Breast Feeding: I'm starting to realize maybe I do all this crunchy business just because I love weirding people out. Because that's what happens when your 11 month old signs "milk" in Starbucks and gets a boobie snack. I used to feel a little bit bad that she refused to eat under a cover, now I just embrace it like the good hippy-dippy earth mother I am. Oh, before anyone writes me an angry letter, she does eat table food now. Like a champ. But it looks like I'm on the nursing train for awhile. I'll be honest, I had no plan when it came to this. I just did what felt natural and fed my baby the best way I could whenever she was hungry. Now I'm more educated about the topic and willing to keep going as long as I can, but I do have mixed feelings.
Natural Birth: This, I'm sure, was part grit and determination on my part and mostly luck and awesome genetics that allowed me to eject an 8lb 11oz Butterball Turkey intact from my body with no medical intervention whatsoever. However, this is surprisingly the one thing I got the most grief for while planning it. Maybe more on that another day.
Cloth Diapers: My favorite element of crunchy street cred. Here's why: when people realize you cloth diaper, they might think you're crazy, but they also think "Wow, what an amazing and hard-working parent you are! Caring about the earth and your child's well-being, getting poop on your hands just to save the planet?! You. are. a. saint." At least I assume that's what runs through people's brains. It's a guess based on facial expressions. But here's the thing...I don't get poop on my hands, at least not significantly more poop than the average infant-haver. Cloth diapering is theoretically a bit more work, but since it's all I've ever done, I have no comprehension of world where I toss poop filled disposables
in my trash can and how easy-breezy it all is. Plus, there are so many advantages to cloth and it's become so user friendly that even this idiot can do it. It's one of those things that just looks way more high-maintenance than it is. Don't tell anyone! I want to feel superior.
Exclusive/On Demand Breast Feeding: I'm starting to realize maybe I do all this crunchy business just because I love weirding people out. Because that's what happens when your 11 month old signs "milk" in Starbucks and gets a boobie snack. I used to feel a little bit bad that she refused to eat under a cover, now I just embrace it like the good hippy-dippy earth mother I am. Oh, before anyone writes me an angry letter, she does eat table food now. Like a champ. But it looks like I'm on the nursing train for awhile. I'll be honest, I had no plan when it came to this. I just did what felt natural and fed my baby the best way I could whenever she was hungry. Now I'm more educated about the topic and willing to keep going as long as I can, but I do have mixed feelings.
I am slowly morphing into Maggie Gyllenhal's character in this movie.
Co-Sleeping: This is not one I planned on at all. I did not think sharing my sleeping space and marriage bed with a tiny human who views me as a food source would even be on the table. I imagined Jon punching the baby in the face during one of his "zombie nightmares," or me smothering her under one of the 75 blankets I need to stay warm. And things were working out in our favor. We never had a nursery for ninja until we moved to our current house, so she slept in her crib or bassinet, in our room (or in our tent) from birth til 4+ months. Most nights, she slept through the night like a rockstar legend. Then, once she got her own room? Too bad, suckers. She went into newbie mode, waking up every few hours. We thought it might be a phase, but no. This is just how she is now. You are welcome to come over and try your babywise or whatever genius plan you have to get her to STTN (get it?), but as for me? I have to work in the morning. I choose whatever method gets us both back in bed and passed out faster. Co-sleeping it is.
Baby-wearing: I only get half credit for this one, since we do have a BOB stroller that is, to use a modern colloquialism, "da bomb." However, I do take every opportunity to strap my spawn to my chest or back and free up my arms for a change. Let's see...what else? I recycle? Happy Birthday, Crunchy Mandy. This flax seed cake with a homemade candle (I actually do know how to make candles thanks to my weird job) is for you! 
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