So I tried to buy new shorts today. Not exactly anything close to my favorite activity. But since it is approaching mid-June and I have only 5 completely random pairs of shorts, it was time. I have been putting off this short buying activity for the better part of 4 years. Not that you all care about the details of my summer wear, but I am going to explain anyway. 

I’ve got one pair that I’ve had for 10 years, they are my favorite. They are thin and almost see through in the butt and are missing 4 of 5 buttons. Another pair I bought when I thought I would be a climber someday. A pair of gramicci shorts. They were not really even cool when I lived in Colorado, let alone Chicago. And they are officially tight now. Two other pairs I’ve had since before having kids, these don’t fit. And one pair is too short, makes me look like a wanna be adolescent, which I really don’t want to be. So I’ve been wearing the pair without the butt and buttons for a while. Time to move on.

I tried garage sale shopping for shorts. For the past few weeks I’ve tooled around the neighborhood on Fridays with my kids. Once with my mom too. Thing is, you can’t exactly try on clothing at a garage sale. Give me a sweatshirt or t-shirt any day, these I can make my best guess on. But shorts. Well, can’t cough up two bucks for something I didn’t dare try on. So off to store I went today. 

You see, I’ve been an athlete for pretty much my whole life. And while I wouldn’t trade my days in the gym for anything, they have left me with enormous thighs that were once muscle but now are sort of a big, sloshy depository for cellulite and varicose veins. Lovely. Thing of it is, I should be okay with this. And mostly, I am. I tend to err on the side of “I am woman, hear me roar.” I err on the side of security and of holding my own and of not melting down over something as insignificant as the size of my thighs. I have a daughter to raise. I have the fashion industry to take on. I hate air brushing and magazines and anorexic super models and I’m not afraid to let people know. I am defined by who I am not how I look. Bring it on I say. 

But then I’m standing in the poorly lit fitting room with the door handle that won’t close. I hear giggly teenagers in the next stall over (an obvious clue I am to old to shop where I was). Nothing seems to fit. Everything seems to hug too close or ride up to high or just plain accentuate the fact that I am at least 4 years older than the last time I bothered to shop for shorts. It is depressing.

And then, strong as I am, confident as I am, all the worthless talk starts to creep in. “Maybe if you chilled out on the chocolate chips you wouldn’t be such a fatty.” “Maybe if you went to yoga or pilates those tight shorts ones on the mannequin would fit you.” Never mind that the mannequin is not even real, I still want to wear her size 0 shorts. size o. As in a size that does not exist. “Lose weight, you are fat, you are just another lame-o mom who wishes she was cool enough to slip into a size 4.” The other day I saw a magazine cover in the grocery store line that featured a celebrity who had lost 10 pounds. It celebrated how thin she looks now, and how chubby she was 10 pounds ago. I could kill for her starting weight. I thought of this as I tried on countless pairs of half-pants.

Obnoxious isn’t it? I even tried on a skort. Not a cute one, but one like my grandmother wore, long and matronly. I wonder if there is some age threshold that you cross when you start wearing skorts. I put it back on the rack. I found one pair of shorts. I felt like some tragedy case on TLC’s “What Not To Wear.” I kept hoping Stacey and Clinton would come bounding into the room to rescue me.

But no one can rescue me from myself except for me. So, “chin up,” I told myself. I grabbed the one pair that sort of fit and headed out. At least I had one pair. These should last another 4 years. Until then, I’m determined to continue to overcome my overly dramatic American female existence. I have birthed three children. I run. I race triathlons. I am a good sturdy woman. Hear me roar!

I’m also on Day #2 sans Diet Coke. woot woot!

I have a new handbag. Or purse I guess you would call it. Somehow typing “I have a new purse” sounded more like something my late grandmother would say, great as she was. “I have a new handbag” sounds very Soho to me. So, I have a new handbag. It’s made from cotton and jute. Now, if you are like me, this is where you ask “well, what in the world is jute?” Apparently it is a highly renewable fiber that does not need pesticides to grow. It sprouts up quick and then finds itself blended with other fibers to become trendy little handbags that suburban green moms like me just gobble up. It seems a little bamboo-esque to me in that it grows rapidly and green minded folks have taken a fancy to it.

A Haiku Handbag is what I snatched up. http://www.haikubags.com/about.html. It is sort of ironic to be blogging about this because part of my green journey is to become less of a consumer. But I like handbags. Since I normally wear the same black faded yoga pants with a hoodie and running shoes, I decided long ago that a girl has to have style somewhere. And since my clothing will not reveal that I have even an ounce of chic residing in my little heart, handbags are it for me. I always have a cute one. I owe my mom the credit for that. She buys me a sassy little tote every year for my birthday. It’s this sort of thing we have going. She finds the most obnoxious looking bag she can and I gobble it up every year. I don it proudly alongside my baseball cap and faded clothing. 

But the other day I was on vacation with my sister and we sauntered into the Cloudveil Store in downtown Jackson, Wyoming. Staring at me from the shelf was a little Haiku Handbag. At first I scoffed at it. This green mama was not about to fall prey to that cute little purple bag, trimmed in green with a little daisy on the front. Not me. I am curbing my consumerism. But I still had to look. I slid it over my shoulder. It matched the horrible lime green fleece I have been wearing for the better part of 8 years. Nothing matches that jacket. I pulled the bag off my shoulder and read the tag. This is what it said “The fabric utilized in the body of these bags is 50% jute which is considered a sustainable fabric due to its rapid growth rate and the fact that no pesticides or fertilizers are used in its production. It’s just one little step in the right direction.” 

I was weak in my green knees. I am such a sucker for marketing.

I grabbed that little tote and raced for the counter. Ring me up Sir! 

Now of course I did not need a new handbag but this was a green handbag in more than just color. It was from a small, unique little company, a mom actually who runs this company. Haiku is all about eco-responsibility. I was on vacation. I was wearing a lime green coat. What else could I do? I wanted to be the green mama with the cool jute handbag, not the green mama with the lame coat and the lame old handbag. I had visions of myself running through the grocery store telling everyone about sustainable fibers and pesticide free living, all the while flinging my new handbag into everyone’s faces.

Again. I am a sucker for marketing. Aren’t we all? 

When we start living a greener life we suddenly become aware of all the not-so-green items that surround us. I am haunted by Old Navy t-shirts and Coach purses. Leather coats silently moo at me from the hall closet. My cowboy boots do the same thing. It sounds like Texas in my head. There is a very green part of me that wants to purge my closet and start over. A part of me that wants to wear organic cotton from Patagonia and jute handbags from Haiku. But is replacing everything that is not-so-green with a brand new green item the best way to go? Should I trade in my non-organic cotton sheets for a brand new bamboo set? Or should I simply be happy with what I have? Clearly the latter is the answer. But I struggle here as a girl that likes to shop.

Green living can twist itself into an excuse to consume as quickly as a coupon can lure you into a store. Just because it is jute does not mean I should buy it.

As I saunter through my closet I look for ways to replace the items I no longer find fashionable with greener upgrades. I am looking for a reason to say adios to my 1990’s interview suit and an excuse to buy that handbag. But sometimes the greenest choice is not to buy anything at all. The items I already own, as un-green as they may be, are already here in my home. The price has been paid, the gas to ship them has been guzzled, the stores who sold them have already made their profit. In other words, the damage has been done. To dash out and replace them with greener fabrics and fibers is to submit to the consumer culture that surrounds me and incur further damage, no matter how green the product. Jute or not, that little bag still had to be shipped to the Cloudveil store. It still had to be harvested to make me happy.

So as I look at my little bag I find myself sitting with two emotions. One comes with a smug little smile that says “hey, I am a green mama with a jute handbag. I bet you don’t even know what jute is.” The other comes with a bit more angst. It says “ugh, I just spent money and resources on one more thing I do not need. Who cares if it is jute. I do not need it.”

But it is a cute bag. So tomorrow I will prop it up on my shoulder and go about my day with a mixture of joy and guilt. This seems to be a recurring theme in my life. A little green move there. A not-so green move here. And an overwhelming desire to keep proving to the world that indeed, I am somebody. Perhaps this is the greatest green obstacle to overcome. If we were all simply a little bit happier with who we were, we would not need so many things to prove to the world that we are somebody indeed. We could stop shopping and striving and could sit back on the deck with an iced-tea in an Adirondack chair and just let it all go. “Jute have got to be kidding,” we would say, “you went shopping?” “Now why would you bother to do that, we love you just the way you are.”

Spring of course is in the air (unless you are blessed enough to live someplace warm where it is always in the air). But here in Chicago and throughout all the snowy winter states, March means warmth. It’s the time of year when as soon as the thermometer hits 50 we pull out flip flops and shorts. We shiver of course, but gosh darn it all, we are ready for summer. 

Part of the Spring routine for many families is cleaning up and clearing out all the heaps of junk, dirt and stuff that have piled up throughout the winter. So this is also the time of year reorganize and sort and stand back with our hands on our hips and say “sshesh, how did we get so much stuff and what am I going to do with it?!” A thoughtful mom will look for every way to keep the items she is no longer akin to out of the landfill. Many of my mommy friends call this “purging.” It’s sort of like cheap therapy, cleaning, purging, rehashing the past, hauling out stuff we don’t want, passing it along to people who need and want it. It’s like the day you give away three bins of 0-3 newborn stuff to your friend who is just about to have her first baby. Outta my closet and on to her. Pass it on baby.

So today, I passed it on in a new way (new for me that is). I partnered with a friend who was selling her unwanted stuff at a giant community resale event at our local county fairgrounds. I’ve definitely been on the buying end of the resale world. Nothing like getting a raincoat and frog boots for a buck! But today I joined the army of moms who sell the stuff. You tag and mark your pile of stuff, dump it off at the fairgrounds the night before where they inspect it and make sure its all clean and pretty, and then they sell it for you! Viola! Just like that. Poof! You keep 75% of the earnings and they take the remaining 25% that goes to a children’s charity. I feel good, they feel good, I purged my stuff, other moms who need a bouncy chair 12 month summer clothes score. No landfills. It’s fabuloso to say the least.

So if you find in the middle of a Spring sigh session where you are scratching your head and wondering how you accumulated all this stuff, sell it or donate it. I love to tidy up and get rid of stuff we don’t use. But, I have many friends who hang on, hang on, hang on on on to their stuff. If this is you, I know parting with it all can be a little hard. What if you need it someday? What if you have another child even though right now you swear you are done. What if you decide to have a garage sale? Or what if you want to save it for your grandchildren? 

Keep what is a keepsake and really, truly, strive to overcome your inner pack rat. I keep stuff of course, but it is a very limited amount. The outfits they came home from the hospital in, a treasured blankie, stuff like that. But I limit what I store up “just in case.” In a strange way, our homes can become land-fill enablers. What I mean by that is that for everything we keep, there is potentially somebody else out there who could use it. And if you keep it, they may have to buy it from the store. More packaging, more shipping etc. If this sounds like a stretch to you, try going to a resale event and watch the used stroller area. INSTANTLY, the minute these giant church, school, county resale events open, people race and push and pull on one another to get to the strollers. They are expensive to buy new and they don’t change much. Four wheels and a handle really. People want them. There never seem to be enough at these events to satisfy all the seekers. 

So, shop used this Spring. I’m waking up tomorrow at 6:00 am to get to this resale and build a summer wardrobe for my boys. I am hoping you have sent your 3T and Boys Small stuff to this event because I am going to need it!

Not hip on heading out to the resale? Can’t find one near you? Simply type the words “children’s online resale” into your web browser and thousands of boutiques selling used kiddie stuff all over the country will pop up. Pick one where you live and get an early start. Happy Spring Purging.

This past Saturday morning I had a no-frills, no commitment day in front of me. As I climbed out of my pj’s and reached for my lazy weekend uniform, a gray hooded sweatshirt and jeans, I was of course bummed to discover that I’d neglected my laundry for the better part of two weeks. Which meant no clean hoodies and no comfy jeans.

What was left? An old pair of jeans that had been relegated to the bottom of the stack. What troubled me about grabbing for these jeans was not that they were hopelessly out of style, but that the last time I wore them was before the birth of my daughter, who was now working her way toward age two. Which meant that the odds of them fitting were slim, just like the jeans. Nonetheless, I slid them on and flinched as they started to squeeze my thighs. I pulled in my breath, buttoned them, and then immediately began doing the obligatory “stretch out these pants” squats. I lunged, I touched my toes, I grunted like a man, I hopped like a frog around the room. Much to my chagrin these pants would not budge.

They were old. Proudly purchased before every pair of denim on the shelf had spandex involved in its manufacturing. Ahhh, spandex, the DuPont dream invented in the late 1950’s. It has since revolutionized the clothing industry. All my other jeans have spandex, so they flex and give and puff up my post-baby ego because they stretch. These did not. These were old school, 100% cotton dungarees. ugh.

So of course this got my green wheels turning. As I hopped around the room trying to stretch these puppies out I started thinking about what was more eco-friendly when it came to jeans (I kid you not, this is how my day started, hopping and thinking). Textiles and clothing are a huge industry in a big scary world of manufacturing. So for the sake of sanity and space, let’s take a quick look at the basic american uniform, blue-jeans. How can we think green when it comes to these blues?

First, forget racing out for a new pair. We all know the agony of a new pair of jeans, they’ve got to be broken in, there is also the fear factor the first time we wash ‘em, will they shrink? So consider heading to a resale shop or thrift store instead. Garage sales are great for this as well. My favorite pair or maternity jeans I got for $2 at a garage sale. Someone else did all the squatting and jumping and breaking them in for me. Buy them used if you can. Perfectly faded and oh so soft already. Levi Strauss gets the credit for creating the first pair of jeans for miners sometime in the 1850’s. So with over 150 years of denim out there, should be easy to find a few good pairs.

Not into buying them used? If you head out to the store, consider denim made with certified organic cotton. Of all the crops grown worldwide, cotton crops account for a whopping 25-35% of all pesticides. ALL PESTICIDES! This is an enormous amount of chemical run-off that contaminates water supplies, impacts wetlands, wildlife, and our health. In the US, 5 of the 9-10 top pesticides used on cotton crops are known carcinogens. fabulous. Grabbing the organic denim is a wise move if you want to avoid this toxic trap. It’s also a wise move if you want to give sustainable agriculture a boost. Organic farming employs sustainable practices that respect the planet and the people who live here. Like you and me.

Some organic denim can come with a hefty price tag (this is what happens if you choose not so stock your product at every ill-lighted big box store on the planet). So, if you want to find a lower cost version (like under $100 – which to me still feels high), you can check out Levi’s Eco Denim line or another great line called Mission Playground. Also check out Fair Indigo, a company that offers denim that is both organic and fair trade, and also under $100.

Turns our there are organic, earth friendly ways to start your Saturday!