There were no disposable diapers at every corner. There were no scented garbage bags. No online reviews. No YouTube moms demonstrating ‘5 Cute Ways to Fold Cloth Diapers Like a Pro!’
There was just grit.
And bleach.
Lots of bleach.
One Day, Everything Changed…
But what my friends REALLY don’t believe is the day that turned my mom into a household legend.
It was a Thursday afternoon.
I remember it clearly because she had just rinsed a diaper in the toilet — the worst kind, the kind every parent silently prays never happens — and she looked exhausted.
Not physically.
Spiritually.
She stood there, holding that diaper like it had personally offended her ancestors.
Then suddenly, she said:
“You know what? I’m done.”
Just like that.
At first, we didn’t understand.
Done with chores?
Done with motherhood?
Done with life?
She walked right out the front door, diaper still in hand, and marched to the backyard.
My dad saw her through the window and dropped the sandwich he was eating.
She went straight to the fire pit, tossed the diaper in like she was sacrificing it to the gods, and lit it on fire.
It went up in flames so fast you’d think it was soaked in gasoline.
