I used cloth diapers with my first-born. You haven't lived until you've rinsed out a poopy diaper in the toilet. We used rubber pants on top to keep clothing dry. Disposable diapers were pretty new then, and were definitely out of our price range. We saved them for travel and church.
There was no hand sanitizer in our kids' lives. They got dirty, then we put them in the bathtub. Or, depending on the season and the degree of grubbiness, a backyard blow-up pool. We had a step-stool in front of the bathroom sink. They knew how to climb up, turn on the water, and wash their own hands before they were three years old.
Baby food was limited to those little jars of pureed goop. I couldn't even stand to look at it. Why would I think they would want to eat it? I mashed bananas, squished green beans and peas, cooked rice and macaroni, and minced chicken and hot dogs. They ate regular oatmeal, cream of wheat, and grits. I even (gasp) made them omelets with cheese, that I cut up so they could eat with their fingers. They ate peanut butter as soon as it wasn't a choking hazard.
We didn't have a Diaper Genie, a bottle warmer, or a faucet cover for the bathtub. We didn't have a baby monitor. They didn't exist, but our house wasn't that big. I could hear the boys cry from down the hall. One of my children cried incessantly for the first four months of his life. Why would I want to amplify that sound?
When we went on extended car trips over the river and through the woods, we didn't have the option of putting a DVD in the player. I packed each boy a backpack. It was stocked with snacks, a few new small toys, and books with tapes. They each had a cassette player with a headset, and knew how to operate it.
Infant car seats could be in the front seat of the car, where I could reach over to soothe a fussy baby. We could decide when it was time to turn them so they faced the front. We could also decide when it was time to graduate out of the car seat. We had a small booster seat that was meant to be used at the dinner table. We put it in the car so they could see out the window, and strapped the boys in with the seat belt. I remember one trip with #1 son. His job was to sit in the front seat and "read" the map. He was about three. We turned off our street and stopped at a stop sign. He looked up from the map and said, "Are we lost?"
Both of our children survived to adulthood, but I know we are lucky. I know people who have lost children to accidents, drownings, and illnesses.
I'm old enough to remember when things were even less safe for children. I remember car seats that hooked over the back of the bench seat in the front of the car. They had small plastic steering wheels with horns on them. If the driver had stopped suddenly, an infant would have been a projectile through the windshield. My mother once told me that, until her children could sit up, we rode in a small bassinet on the front seat of the car. There were no seat belts in cars then. Maybe that's the evolution of the mom-move -- reaching an arm across the passenger seat in a sudden stop. This is a picture of me and my dad. I think I was about 2.
Bicycle helmets had not been invented. We roller-skated through the neighborhood without the benefit of elbow and knee pads. We walked to school (and home for lunch) with friends each day. The only time a parent went along was on the first day of school. We trick-or-treated with packs of children, going all over our huge neighborhood, filling a pillow case with full-sized candy bars. Nobody thought of taking the candy to the hospital to have it x-rayed for the presence of razor blades. We played kickball, tag, and hide-and-seek in the yard and street until the streetlights came on. That was the signal to go home.
I don't think my parents' generation loved their children any less than the current one does. I can understand how parents today are convinced they should purchase so many safety devices, gadgets, and conveniences.
I often think about how young and stupid I was when my firstborn entered my life. I didn't know how an infant can consume your life, and I certainly had no idea that you could love someone that much.
