Are

When you look in the mirror at home,

You are fine and happy with what you see.

The problem is when you step outside of the home.

That's where the mirrors reflect something else.

Something other.

Gathered in a room of girls,

Silently competing,

"Fine and Happy" suddenly isn't cutting it.

That skirt you thought was fetch,

Their eyes squint at it, but then smile up at you betrayingly.

You look down,

And its newfound ugliness pierces through you.

And yet again,

That ugly deceiver rears its head

Oh no,

Not envy.

We are aware of envy's danger, it's hold, it's wrath.

We are wise to envy's game and the lies of the grass being greener.

So it sends, instead, the coy and looming face of its partner:

Comparison.

I remember the night,

Months previously,

As I did my far too regular trawl of Facebook,

I saw a mother describe how her bundle had finally cracked it and was getting to sleep at 6:30pm and sleeping through the night.

The words grabbed me.

My sane brain left, and my over achieving mind took over.

It started off being happy and pleased knowing the rest a mother needs,

The difficult season the early days of babies are,

And the relief her soul must feel.

Then like a snake it winded cunningly down another dark path,

One where I, once again, questioned my mothering skills:

"Why cant I get my child to sleep?!"

"What am I doing wrong?!"

"'Am I not a good mother?!"

The path weaves further, leading to an ugly pit:

"Why isn't Zella like that child?!"

That's where comparison grabs you,

To that place where even those you love,

Those most close,

most vulnerable,

Risk being attacked.

If I play that evil game,

With my precious babe at just 4 months young,

Then where will I be in 4 years or 14?!

How bruised and damaged will her self-esteem be??

For isn't the root cause of the too-skinny

Too-fat

Too-stressed

Too-overworked

Too-drugged up

Too-overachieving

Lying naked and stripped at the feet of comparison??

The saddest thing of all,

The true travesty of the situation,

Is that comparison steals your joy.

Steals your now.

Steals the things of beauty,

Laid before you in this moment.

At present, my favourite thing about Zella is the way she is with people.

Long did I imagine, hope and pray for a child who would not just be ok with others,

But revel in the wonder and fun of new people.

As our dear friend came over and sat on our sofa Sunday night

Zella played with her face

Smiled brightly

Burped responsively

Cuddled tightly

And brought more joy to an individual than I ever thought she could as such a young thing.

And as we travelled across the Atlantic

She took her spirit of woo

Of charm

Of love

At the airport check in desk

Sweet smiles to the security guards

Passengers apprehensive about her small life and potential cries

Were enveloped into her grin and giggles

And as each friend in Texas called her name

She reached arms swung wide open

Almost falling into their embrace

To stroke their face and nuzzle close

If I stand in the place of looking at others side-by-side to her,

I miss seeing her as she sits, just as she is, on her own, as her own individual.

I cannot and will not compare myself to another.

And I most certainly cannot and will not compare my child,

my kin, my babe, fruit of my womb,

To any other.

I will not buy into that silent lie,

That breeds bacteria of discontent.

She, just the way she is,

Like husband, just the way he is,

Like me, just the way I am,

Is more than enough.

Just right.

Complete.

These words will I speak into her,

Over her,

Through her,

With her.

"Zella, you are fine and happy, just the way you are."

Poop

I've never been one to do things in order.

I can distinctively remember being in one of my favourite places in the world, Whole Foods grocery store in Arlington, Texas, perusing the aisles, when they caught my eye.

Steve and I had been married little over a year when I came home declaring that I had found "it." The items that we did not need at all, but I tried in vain to tell him we needed to buy in advance:

The nappies we were going to use with our baby.

Previous to that fateful store trip, I had never been particularly interested in cloth nappies. I'd always thought of them as old fashioned, bulky, stinky...but you know me: put something in bright colours and make them sleek and fashionable, and I'm all up in its grill.

Roll on three years, lots of convincing of a husband, immense researching of the site, testing out at The Baby Show, and one gorgeous princess later, and we are avid users of gNappies: gParents, cloth nappy people, the hippies who buy disposable inserts to go in them that we then add to our compost heap for extra roughage.

Feel free to come over in the summer to sample veggies fertilised by Zella.

It will be better than when we served salad to a guest last year, and we discovered we served her an earwig.

Rather than the simple throwing away of disposables, after each change, time must be spent in a more labourious cleaning up job.

As I leant over the bath last night, showering off the mess, the colours swirled amidst the waters, revealing more of my very self.

Cloth humbles me.

I take the soiled, wet, stained garments, and with bare hands scrub, rub, and make new.

Regardless of how I feel, how the day goes, I have to put the effort in; laying aside my self to provide for my child's most intimate need.

This mess is none of my doing, but it is mine to sort out.

My pride must consistently and constantly be pushed to the edge, as I endeavour in the dirtiest job in my house (besides the bins).

And I needed this.

I need to be humbled.

I need to be put in my place.

I need to know there are others needs beyond my own.

I need to know that I'm not above anything.

I need to be reminded that there is more than "me" in this world.

I need that quiet time of pondering to evaluate who I really am throughout the day.

Do I think that everyone should use cloth nappies?

Yes, because landfill sites are filling up, nappies create a lot of waste, it can save you lots of money, they are great with sensitive skin babes, and there are some really awesome options out there.

Will everyone?

No, and that's ok because each family needs to make the choices that works best for them, and that's the way it should be.

Do I think everyone needs to be humbled?

Definitely.

Consumerism rages.

The customer is always right.

We push and fight and wrestle to be top dog.

Not realising the importance of the worker bees.

We all need a place of self-reflection.

A place to serve others.

A time when we aren't first, second or even tenth.

By the nappy bucket

with soap suds and poop

is mine.

Where is yours?