Bag it baby!

I don’t know about you, but last year I jumped on the reusable bag train. Here in the UK many shops started selling their own reusable bags at very cheap prices (most under £1.00) and some even started charging for their plastic bags if you didn’t bring your own. More and more I am astounded at the response from the general UK public, as when I am out and about in town I see more people than ever making the choice to go reusable. Even though I have been using mine and getting better at actually remembering to take them with me when I go out (it helps), I felt the need to dig a little deeper into this issue to find out how using them made a difference to our environment.

Obviously, the use of plastic contributes to landfill. I mean what isn’t actually getting recycled is ending up in our wastelands. Being that plastic isn’t bio-degradable it eventually photo-degrades, which means it breaks down into smaller and smaller toxic pieces and getting into our water and soil supplies. But our water is filtered anyway? Think again, the animals haven’t got that luxury which means they will end up consuming it and thus it makes it’s way into the food chain. Nice eh? Bags which don’t end up in landfills often get incinerated, but this can produce Dioxins, one of the most poisonous chemicals. The residue inside the incinerator has to be dumped and still our environment ends up poisoned. Even if the plastic is claimed to be bio-degradable, even there we still have environment issues. Still chemicals are released in the process and sometimes, it still doesn’t bio-degrade. Read here for more information on bio-degradable plastics.

And what of our wildlife? Your lovely little plastic bags have a habit of making it into the oceans and the marine life there often mistake it for food or simply end up caught up in them. Very often they can get strangled, injured, or die from consumption and are not always able to get the bags off them. Turtles are one marine animal that die quite often due to consumption, as when the bags float in the ocean they resemble jellyfish, the turtles main source of food. A UN report estimates that there are 46,000 pieces of plastic debris floating on or near the surface of every square mile of ocean…every square mile. An estimated one million birds a year are injured or die from swallowing or being caught in plastic debris from the oceans.

It’s not just marine life that are affected however, the animals in our countryside also find themselves with plastic bags to contend with, as so many get littered around our beautiful environment. Just think of all the trips to the park that you’ve seen with plastic bags blown out of the bins, or often lazily chucked on the ground.

In the UK alone, consumers use an estimated 10 billion plastic bags a year, which equates to 167 per person, which accounts for 3.5 to 5.3% of total plastic packaging used in the UK. So choosing to go reusable means your part is saving an average of 167 bags a year. The average plastic bag is used for around 12 minutes, but it’s impact on the environment is so much longer.

These are but a handful of reasons to go reusable and if you still aren’t convinced let’s think of some practical reasons ditching the plastic is good for you.

•You don’t end up with that huge ”Bag o Bag’s” in the cupboard, most of which end up with holes in the bottom anyway from when you shoved them in. You end up with so many where do they eventually go? In your bin.

•Not having to bin your plastic means you have less waste, less trips to that ever smelling bin outside anyway!

•Reusable bags are now so stylish! There are so many to choose from and they aren’t even expensive. With a load of designs out there, there is surely one to suit your tastes. Whether you’re a style icon or just a Mom on the go, a reusable bag says ”I give a crap” and thus ups your style status instantly. Don’t believe me? Send me your pics of you holding your dearly beloved plastic and one of your reusable….I promise you’ll look so much cooler with the latter.

•Plastic bags are uncomfortable to carry. Reusables can be thrown over your shoulder and have a much more comfortable handle to hold. Plus they can hold a bit more, meaning you have one bag vs three, less to hold, more comfort.

•Reusables don’t have that nasty habit of breaking half way across the parking lot or just outside your front door….don’t you hate that?!

Still don’t think you can remember to take them with you all the time? Do you forget your purse or wallet when you leave home? After making it a priority to take shopping it will become second nature. But if, like me, you still forget from time to time, try keeping a few spares in the car or keep yours near your coat rack or front door so you won’t forget. You could also stick it at the top of your shopping list so you can remember.

The one pictured here is my personal favorite reusable I own. Its comfy, looks great and reminds me that I’m doing my bit for the environment.

**the information I used for this article was from the Reusable Bag Co. website. Their facts matched my own research from other sites I visited on my mission to uncover the facts – Many Thanks!

Good Ol’ Fashioned Love

Yesterday was just, one of those days. Those days when you feel sad for absolutely no reason and yet every reason makes you sad. Nothing was going right from the first moment I got up, everything upset me and made me angry. Inside I was feeling empty and hollow, outside it seemed that the slightest little thing could set off that time bomb. This is what my family saw, Mom’s in a mood today, just back off.

However I am feeling, my partner has this amazing ability to snap me back into reality. He also seems to know when I genuinely need him, or a hug, or just to listen. Other times I feel he has no clue about me, when really he can just see that I’ll work it out myself and it’s probably best to keep out of it. I love him for it. He never ceases to astound me and yesterday, even though I felt I was biting the heads off of anyone or anything in my path, he could see I really needed something to remind me how loved I am. Upon his return from shopping he had this beautiful bouquet in his hand ”These are for you my Love”. He knew, despite my angry exterior, that I was feeling down inside and as always he knew just what I needed to make me feel better.

I don’t know about you, but I’m a sucker for a man who is willing to put all his brute aside and show his softer self. Equally I like a man who will put that brute back on and tackle the world. That’s just how my partner is in my eyes, knowing when to be soft and when to toughen up. Although my partner and I are pretty modern in a lot of ways, we find ourselves being pretty old fashioned in our relationship. He loves being the provider, looking after the family, being the one that takes care of things when all hell breaks loose. I love being the backbone, doing the laundry and household chores while making the dinners and attempting to organise the family’s needs. I wonder really if many of us in our modern days are getting more and more away from these roles or do more of us really cling to some of the older ways of family? I feel in our house the balance is pretty good, it’s not so old fashioned that I have no say in things (if you knew me, you’d know that I am very opinionated!), we make decisions together as a couple, deciding what’s best for us and the kids as a team. I wouldn’t change that for anything, it works and we both know that each role is of equal value to the family.

I cannot tell you how I feel each time he reminds me how loved and respected I am to him. These little gestures make me more and more appreciative that I’ve got a great relationship. He’s a perfect gentleman, opening doors for me, pulling out the chair to offer me a seat at dinner, buying flowers for all the right reasons and sometimes for no reason at all. If there is one thing I just adore, it’s all that in a man. Being a little old fashioned once in a while doesn’t do any of us any harm, in fact I probably know a lot of women that would love to see it more in a man from time to time. Equally I know more men would love to see a few little things in women, making the odd lunch or cooked breakfast, taking time to realise that men too have emotional needs, sometimes seeing he’s had a bad day and just allowing him some time to relax is just as good as him showing up with flowers in his hand. None of this works if it’s not appreciated, which is why with us, we take the time to make sure the other knows how thankful we are for the gesture, however big or small it is. We are far from perfection, being human we don’t always see eye to eye, but somewhere in the middle it just comes together and we work it out, plain and simple.

And to Maurice, my one and only……I love you more each day that passes. Thank you for all you are to me. Ik hou van jou mijn Liefste.

Pick it up, or the bear gets it

That’s right, I’m holding him hostage and I’m not releasing him until I have some answers, TODAY.

All you Mom’s out there can relate with the scene I’m about to unfold, you’ve all been there and I say we take a stand right now and find out what’s going on before we are all driven into straight jackets.

Imagine it…..
It’s cleaning time, you pep talk yourself and go over everything in your head of what needs to be done today. Kitchen, dishes, scrub floors, wipe off counters, vacuum the living room, tackle that endless magical laundry pile that never seems to get any smaller….. you know what I’m talking about. So you organise the kids, you pick the longest kid film in human existence to keep them occupied while you crack out your MP3 player (if you remembered to charge it) and get busy on the dirt. You either a) announce you are cleaning to the kids ”ALRIGHT! I’m cleaning now just sit here and watch this film and for the love of the Gods DON’T tick each other off!” or b) sneak out quietly hoping that they won’t notice you’ve gone to clean and maybe, just maybe you’ll get a little longer before the juice requests come rolling in.

You are now in the zone, somewhat happy if you have that MP3 player to drown out the screams for help where you left the kids fighting and kicking each other for ”their” part of the sofa. Almost happy if you forgot to charge the damn thing but in your head you got a song goin’ on. One that you re-sing the chorus to 10 million times over between the ”Leave your sister alone!” shouts that you do automatically to keep the peace (we all know it doesn’t do a damn thing but hey….denial is everything). Somewhere after a hundred thousand ”I want Juice” requests, 4 apples, 3 bags of chips, is it lunch time yet questions answered and the odd attempt at money begging you finally have a kitchen that even your Mother in law would be proud of. You stand, for just that moment soaking it in, enjoying each little twinkle that the sunlight casts on it, savoring every bleach smellin moment and then you decide to tackle the next room on the list.

After the next room is done you return to the kitchen, as you approach you can already hear Angelic music coming from this room of utter perfection that you just scrubbed. You walk in, you cast your eyes on it’s gleaming loveliness….but wait…what’s this? Despite the fact that you just fed, juiced and snacked up your kids there seem to be dishes on the counter, empty packets strewn near the garbage can in some half ass attempt to throw them away (at least you hope that was the aim) and god knows what smeared on the fridge door. You march straight into the living room, someone has to own up. Protests are already coming out, apparently no one went in there, no one had anything, they’ve all been here watching that epic long film you put on. Filthy lies.

You walk out of a semi normal living room only to go and clean up said crap in kitchen. Upon your return (of which is only around 10 minutes later) they’ve trashed the joint. DS paraphernalia is strewn around making the place look like a drug house, not just toys are out…oh no they broke out the big guns baby…lego…is…everywhere. Naked dolls are lying there mortified, their pretty little dresses somehow managed to get thrown on top of the tv and a half missing tea set is on the coffee table with juice streaming down from one of the cups which somebody tipped over.

Yet no one is playing with anything, they are all just sitting there watching that damn movie you stuck on. By this time your MP3 player had come off when you saw the kitchen…you heard nothing. You didn’t hear a soul walk in or out of this room and let’s face it, you possess the ability to hear a friggin mouse fart. You begin to interrogate your 2 year old, surely she hasn’t learned to lie yet, Who did this? Who was it? WHO ARE YOU WORKING FOR?!?! She stands there staring at you like you’re speaking Japanese, blinking, old enough to work out there is no right answer here. For the first time all day, everyone is silent. After a long pause, seeing your red face and watery eyes the eldest one musters up the guts to break the tension ”Uhhh Mom…we’re trying to watch a movie”

Are you serious?!

Are they hiring ninjas to sneak in and screw the place up or what? I wouldn’t put it past them, I have no idea how much birthday money they all could have had between them. How is it that nothing and I do mean NOTHING gets past me, no child could possibly breathe without me hearing it and yet I have no idea how crap gets in the room. It’s a conspiracy to drive me insane and now that I’ve taken a bear hostage, I’m pretty sure it’s working. I say we club together here, I’m not saying that no kid can never make another mess, all I want to know is who is behind this? What super secret CIA training are they getting to screw with my head like this?

Let us not even contemplate when your other half gets home, after you’ve cleaned the house only to have it destroyed again and after having done a zillion errands, none of which were yours, he looks around the place and smiles at you saying ”Sooo, what did you do today?”

I…give…up.

I rip a stitch from the bear every hour until my demands are met. I want answers, today, right now…no excuses. Don’t make me de-stuff an innocent victim… you have 12 hours.

Mum’s the word