Tag: #consumerism

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Plastic-reduced parenting, one month later…

Last month, I made a modest goal to reduce single-use plastic in our grocery shopping/food habits and in our bathroom habits. I’ve successfully stopped using most plastic bags & produce bags, tried to find produce that is not wrapped in plastics, etc. I even shopped at the farmers’ market (since farmers’ markets tend to have less plastic wrapping than grocery stores), though the one near our house is so damn expensive it’s hard to commit to shopping there long-term. I also made a goal of reduced bathroom plastic, and while I haven’t needed to repurchase anything for A or myself yet, I have chosen where I will buy my next package-free options (LUSH seems to have what I need, honestly).

As we transition to plastic-reduced lives, I think we need to put a lot of conscious thought and energy into it. Once living plastic-reduced/plastic-free becomes a habit, it can fade into the background and not require so much thought and planning. But right now, during the transition, it should. And the goals I set last month have already faded into the background, so I think it’s time for the next push. Once something gets easy, it’s time to make it hard again. This month, I’m doing that through ‘no-buy July.’

My husband and I have committed to ‘no-buy July’, where we limit our frivolous spending (obviously necessities are allowed, but no extra toys/clothes/eating out, etc.). Trying these two big goals (plastic-reduced and no-buy July) at the same time may seem like I’m spreading myself too thin, but in reality, they are mutually supportive. When you don’t buy as much, you don’t use as much single-use plastic. Funny how that works. Consumerism is the motivation behind single-use plastic. So reducing consumerist tendencies reduces our plastic use. There are other benefits to no-buy July as well (I hope! Only six days in at this point…), but even reducing our eating out means that we are less likely to get takeaway and therefore less likely to use plastic utensils and to-go food containers.

It’s difficult to live plastic-reduced as a parent. We’re tired and don’t always have the energy to do the slightly harder (but less-plastic) option. We feel poorer and don’t always want to buy the slightly more expensive (but less-plastic) option. We’re marketed to like crazy, which means we buy toys/clothes/convenience food wrapped in plastic. That’s why our family has chosen to set incremental goals, instead of going cold turkey. It makes a radical lifestyle change something that seems doable. A isn’t old enough to talk about plastic-reduced living yet, but I hope he sees the precedent we are trying to set for him. We are doing it imperfectly but trying nonetheless!

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Plastic-free Parenting (or at least, my bad attempts at it…)

One of the mama instagrammers that I follow (@mamalinauk) recently posted a ‘plastic-free parenting’ challenge for the month of June. Each week, she recommends focusing on reducing plastic use in certain areas of our parenting lives.

  • Week 1: Mealtime (plastic wrapped produce, lunches out-and-about, and saran wrap)
  • Week 2: Bath time (toothbrushes, toothpaste, soap and body wash)
  • Week 3: Toilet time (diapers, wipes, toilet paper)
  • Week 4: Play time (arts and crafts, plastic toys and batteries, baking)

I have been thinking about how to reduce single-use plastic for a month or two now. I would say that our house has pretty typical middle-class American consumerist patterns: despite my hatred of clutter, we do end up buying way too much shit and a lot of that comes with single use plastic (via plastic bags, packaging, the object itself, etc).

In the last month, I’ve made a concerted effort to not use produce bags at the grocery store and to bring our cloth grocery bags. I’m not trying to pat myself on the back here—on the contrary, this seems like responsible 21st century living 101-type stuff that I should’ve been doing years ago. India is the latest country (as of the day I’m writing this!) to pledge to ban single-use plastic as a country. With our current federal government, I can’t imagine making such a radical commitment, but that doesn’t mean that we as individuals can’t try.

Despite my attention to our single-use plastic at grocery stores, I never really thought about reducing single-use plastic as a parent. But @mamalinauk’s challenge has started to make my brain wheels turn: where are other places in my parenting life that I can reduce waste in general (and single-use plastic specifically)? There was a brief moment while I was pregnant that my husband and I talked about cloth diapers, but (and I’m totally calling him out on this, LOVE YOU), he was really against the idea. I’m sure if I had been more opinionated, my husband would have at least considered it.

In fact, my husband overall doesn’t feel he has the emotional energy left over from his job (he works a TON, and if I were in his shoes, I wouldn’t either) to dedicate mental energy or time to this issue at this point in our lives. So, I told him I would try to do it for us. While we may not be willing to make the switch to cloth diapers yet, there are other areas where I will focus on plastic-free (or plastic-reduced?) parenting for the next month:

  • Grocery shopping and food–My older sister is awesome at sewing and has made us reusable produce bags and snack pouches that I will integrate more fully into our day to day lives. Next step is using the farmers market more, because even though I try to not use produce bags, SO much produce comes wrapped in plastic! I didn’t notice it before my grocery shop last week! Oh, and I won’t get plastic straws when I’m eating out.
  • Bath hygiene—after we finish with A’s current toothbrush, we will either buy him bamboo ones or an electric one that will last much longer. I will also try to find soap/hygiene products at the local farmers market that does not come in plastic bottles.

Good luck and happy wiping (with reuseable wipes?),

O.

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Strollers as a class symbol

Cars are the classic class symbol: when you see someone driving around in a BMW, Audi, or Range Rover, you know they have a certain amount of money. Yes, they are luxury cars and, with that, comes a nicer ride. But they also signify to those around that you come from a *certain* socioeconomic class. I’m not @-ing people who do have luxury cars—just recognizing that their consumer choices have social ramifications.

Well, when you enter into parenthood, strollers do that same thing. Strollers signify to those around your class status.

First, you have the Uppababy and Stokke class of strollers. These can be reaching the $1,000 mark or higher. But even beyond the price tag, these strollers signal a certain *fanciness* (if you will, lol). These strollers are all bougie, all day—you can’t deny it. Don’t get me wrong though: I’ve pushed a few Uppababies in my day, and damn, do they do feel nice. There’s just something that’s smoother about the ride.
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Maybe I think they feel so nice because the stroller we have falls into the ‘bougie-but-pretending-not-to-be’ category of class status. We have the Baby Jogger City Mini GT. Now, if you don’t have a kid, you have no idea what I’m talking about. But once you know this stroller, you will see it everywhere. It’s in the $300-$400 range, which is NOT nothing. We justified it by claiming that we walk the dogs everyday with A, so he’ll spend a lot of time in the stroller. Which is true! But now, almost two years in, I’ve started nitpicking the stroller (he can’t sit up straight enough!), which is ridiculous and I recognize that. Still, it’s a really nice ride and says to the people around us that we have some money/will probably make more money in the future/but try to pretend we don’t care about class status. Lol. (can you tell I’m trying to be self-deprecating here!?)

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Then, we have the good, old umbrella strollers. Classic. What most of us grew up with probably. This says, I’m just getting what is practical (both financially and otherwise). They can range from $20 up (though some of the fancy brands have umbrella strollers for $200—this isn’t what I’m talking about).

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Now, of course, there are things that fall in between these *very rough* categories. But, like I said earlier, I’m trying to light-heartedly call attention to the fact that parenting is a political, social and economic endeavor—and that the purchases we make as parents can perpetuate things like class status in the world. I don’t know if we would make a different choice if we did it all again, but at the very least, it’s worth recognizing.

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Teepees in our house

Edit– Look at the comments to see more thoughts!

*Preface: This is a messy, rambling post. I wanted to show an example of my internal thought process. Mostly, to demonstrate that I reaaalllyyyy don’t have all the answers when it comes to parenting with privilege. I’m imperfect and do things that I am not proud of. This is one example.

Teepees as decorations in kids’ rooms…

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*Not the teepee in A’s room. A’s room is not this pretty, lol. 

My husband just bought one, and I’m uncomfortable with the cultural appropriation associated with it. I’m a white woman with no known connection to indigenous tribes from the Great Plains in the US (where I understand teepees originated). Do I have a right to have a toy teepee in my house for my son to play in? We didn’t buy it from an indigenous source, which can make having objects from other cultures OK. We bought it off Amazon, where random people are taking ideas from oppressed cultures and making money off of them. That’s what makes me uncomfortable.

I gotta admit though, it’s damn cute (or has the potential to be—right now it’s really wrinkly). A lot of people I love and respect have one/want to get one for their kids/future kids. I think I’ve been brainwashed by the Pinterest aesthetic…send haaaaaalp.

Is it ok if we just call it a ‘tent’? Or is that cultural appropriation and white washing?

And the most annoying part is A loves it. He just wants to lie in it and read books and every night. It’d be so much easier if he just didn’t care about it.

I know what to do (I think). There is no objective ‘right’ way to parent for social justice, but I know (read: think?) in my gut that I don’t feel comfortable with a toy teepee in my house. That’s not to say I’m judging other families who have one. You’re not a bad person, but this is a decision made for my family.

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TERRIFYING TOWER OF TOYS

I hate clutter. It honestly is one of the biggest triggers of stress in my life (apart from the whole writing-a-dissertation thing). I get rid of my clothes so much and so often that I sometimes regret it—I am TOO overeager when it comes to throwing things out. This morning, I thought, ‘man, I wish I hadn’t gotten rid of all but two of my earrings.’ Sometimes, you just want to wear a nice gold hoop, ya know? But, apart from those fleeting moments of regret (which really are fleeting—I’m sure I won’t think about gold hoop earrings again for a year), I’m really happy that I’m not a packrat.

What does hating clutter have to do with parenting for social justice though? TOYS and consumerism. They creep in, and YOU CANNOT STOP IT. If you don’t hear from me in the next few weeks, its because I’m drowning in a terrifying tower of toys. My husband loves buying A toys, so it seems like every week, a new Amazon package shows up at our door, adding to the pile of toys in the corner of our family room (not to mention the section of the basement of toys he’s already grown out of). You know that scene in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, when they are in the vault in Gringotts, trying to get one of the horcruxes (Helga Hufflepuff’s cup I think?), but the other objects are magicked so that they multiply every time they are touched, which means that Harry, Ron and Hermione almost drown/get crushed to death by shit?? That’s me, just with toys. Every time I turn around, it’s like they multiply.  (was that Harry Potter reference lost on everyone but me? Lol)

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Look at poor Ron and Hermione, about to get crushed by the ever expanding pile of toys gold.

NOW, if you’ve ever given A a toy or present, THANK YOU. I am not complaining! (though it sounds like I am, doesn’t it? Need to work on the tone of this post…) And if A were old enough to understand, he would say “ANK U’ in the nasal-y way that he says ‘thank you’ right now (its adorable, btw). I am not ungrateful for your gifts or ignorant that my privilege has brought us to this moment. Drowning in a toys is related to our family’s class privilege: we have the means (and our friends and family have the means) to buy presents for A when they want to. Obviously, I am so grateful for that. I am grateful for the enrichment and entertainment the toys provide. I am grateful for the love for A that these gifts represent.

But at the same time, toys are inherently linked to capitalism and consumerism: I don’t want A to think he needs THINGS to be happy and to have fun. Ever since I got pregnant, I have been brainwashed into thinking I need all of these THINGS in order to have a safe pregnancy/be a good mother. The purchasing of things does not define the quality of a childhood. Even apart from toys’ consumerist essence, I think a decluttered space leads to (1) a more appreciative attitude towards what we DO have and (2) a calmer and more mindful outlook. Gratitude and mindfulness are two of the most important mental strategies I want A to cultivate.

For now, though, I’m too tired at the end of the day to deal with all of the awesome, fun, and colorful toys we’ve amassed. Consumerism in a capitalist society is nearly impossible to avoid, so I’ve learned to live with some clutter in my life. I will write in the future on my experiments in cultivating A’s gratitude and mindfulness despite (because of?) consumerism.

Happy wiping (and hopefully decluttering),

Olivia