3 Things Right Now #9

A love letter to the municipal pool, a string of memoirs, and the high emotions of potty training.

Lap lanes at our neighborhood municipal pool in San Diego

Welcome to a report on three things in my life or on my mind.

1. Goodbye to (cloth) diapers

I’ve graduated into a new phase of motherhood: no kids in diapers! My youngest recently learned to use the potty about a month after her second birthday.

I found potty training emotionally intense with both kids. I was the mom who wanted to do elimination communication (like mothers have done the world over for thousands of years!) with my first but never figured it out. Then I aimed to have my children out of diapers before age 2. This desire was based on the fact that, before the invention of disposables, most American kids were out of diapers by 18 months.

We had our first kid potty trained at 23 months, but her daycare teacher said she still was having too many accidents. She insisted that my daughter wear diapers while in her care — another 6 months. I cried. I talked about it in therapy.

With our second child, I tried potty training at 22 months, just before a trip to Europe. But after a psychologically torturous, pants-less week confined to our home, she hadn’t used the toilet once.

We tried again after the trip and had a breakthrough. This also marked another milestone: I successfully cloth diapered a child from birth!

I’d been curious about cloth diapering with my first, but though I pride myself on my research skills, the more I read, the more overwhelmed I felt. I didn’t know where to start. Looking back, that was probably for the best — we lived in an apartment with shared laundry at the time.

When I was pregnant with the second baby, a friend offered to loan me a cloth diaper stash she hadn’t ended up using. All I had to do was strap them on my newborn and Google the laundering instructions. Decision paralysis solved.

Now committing to cloth diapers wasn’t easy, even with my own shiny washing machine, a flexible work schedule, and a partner who helped with the laundry and assembling. But it felt SO GOOD not to be producing bags stuffed with foul-smelling disposables every week. I found it so convenient to always have diapers on hand — no frantic Amazon Prime orders or Target runs. We avoided the diaper rash that plagued our first baby. As our daughter grew, we dealt with plenty of leak troubleshooting, but I’m proud we pushed through.

And now that I’m not changing, washing, and folding diapers, it honestly feels like I’ve gained an EXTRA HOUR in the day.

2. A love note to our public pool

We live within biking distance of a city pool in Balboa Park. It was built in 1933, and I love the Spanish architecture and palm trees. It draws people of all ages and walks of life. Kids can swim for $2 and adults pay $5 (less if you buy a punch card).

Sure, local parents complain about the over-chlorinated water, the limited hours, and the dated locker rooms. But we all have to admit that it’s a pretty good deal.

I tried to spend more time there this summer, and it paid off. After a couple of rounds of affordable (if sometimes underwhelming) swim classes and drop-ins during recreational hours, my kids show more confidence in the pool.

And I’m enjoying my lap swims more than ever. There’s such pleasure gliding through the water while the sunlight streams in. During certain brief moments, I’m transported to childhood vacations.

Cargo-biking through the park on sunny afternoons and running into friends at the pool has felt like unlocking max summer mode. After 11 years of blustery, 50-degree San Francisco summers, I’m so here for it!

3. August reading list

I feel most like myself when I’m reading literary fiction. But this month I’ve been on a strong memoir tear:

Know My Name by Chanel Miller

Written by the victim in the Brock Turner case, this paperback gathered dust on my nightstand after a friend passed it along. I just wasn’t craving a downer. But one evening, with all my library books finished, I finally cracked it open and was immediately swept in. Miller is a masterful storyteller, weaving evocative descriptions and crisp insights. By the time the first courtroom scene arrived, my own heart was racing. An important book, but also just a beautiful read by a gifted fellow millennial.

The Harder I Fight the More I Love You by Neko Case

I’ve enjoyed Neko Case’s soulful music since my late college years, and it turns out songs aren’t the only thing she can write. She paints truly moving and original descriptions of her childhood in Washington state in this hell of a memoir. Her life reads like a movie. She’s playing a show near San Diego this fall, and I’ll be getting tickets.

On the Hippie Trail: Istanbul to Kathmandu and the Making of a Travel Writer by Rick Steves

Apparently during the pandemic, Rick Steves came across an old travel journal he kept when he was 23 and doing the hippie trail: an overland route through Turkey, Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan, and India that culminates in Nepal. Reading his unfiltered account brought up so many memories of my time backpacking around South America and Europe in my early 20s. It made me nostalgic but also reminded me of the frustrations and discomfort, the monotony and absurdity, and the real risk that comes with this type of travel. I wish my husband would read it so he could get a glimpse of the kind of adventures I had before we met.