Pretty Pink Paint

"I want to help, Mom, I want to paint too!"

"Oscar, you told me you didn't, so I didn't get things ready for you to help. Besides, the stuff smells terrible. Doesn't it even make your eyes hurt?"

"No. I don't smell anything."

Oscar and Matilda perch on the only remaining piece of furniture in Matilda's new room - the bed - while I paint the walls around them. Luckily they are only entertained by my painting efforts for a few minutes. Because this stuff DOES smell terrible. It makes my eyes hurt. It fills my nose and mouth, and probably even my ears. I go and put a fan in the window which helps some, but by the end of my first coat of the yucky primer, I feel shaky and lightheaded. The fumes? Lack of sleep? Probably low blood sugar. I am one of those people who need to snack constantly to maintain equilibrium. I hope it's the blood sugar.

There is something about me that is not obvious at first glance. Though maybe you might assume it. I usually think I look pretty enviro, but then recently I was asked if I fed my kids white bread. White bread? Are you kidding me? My kids are grinding their own wheat for breakfast! I've never been so insulted! But I diverge. So it may not be obvious, but if you spend just a short time with me, you will pick up that I am somewhat of a chemophobe. Okay. I am a HUGE chemophobe.

But if you had my family history, you would be too. Oh yeah - a lot of you reading this do have my family history...

It actually started the year I worked as a screen printer. One wants to be cool and unconcerned. So wearing proper respirators is not something that happens hiring day. It's something that is learned after an afternoon spent breathing lacquer thinner for hours until finally one is not left with an incredible high, but with a thin, shaky feeling and a temper that snaps and screams angrily with their fume-filled lungs at the person who sold this job, "Why don't you do this, if you want to sell work like this!" The outburst is followed by objects flying, tears, and a retreat out the door for a literal, breather.

I was not fired after this outburst, but I did find work elsewhere shortly after. But to this day, due to the constant exposure, I believe my body is more sensitive to chemicals than others. And if I had to do it again, I would not consider a profession that came into contact with toxic chemicals. What was the cost of this exposure?

I am the one at the park questioning the maintenance workers about their pesticides. I am the one who would rather risk Lyme's disease than use a Deet product. I am the one who doesn't like to clean the house because of the Comet. Or do I really just not like to clean the house?

A while ago one of my friends called me to ask if I'd ever used natural cleaners. Coincidentally around the same time, my nephew recommended the book, The Urban Homestead. Within this treasury were explicit instructions on obtaining a sparkling - okay livable - quality of clean using simple household cleaners like vinegar and baking soda. Vinegar and baking soda! I can EAT vinegar and baking soda. I can make cookies from vinegar and baking soda! Yum! Vinegar cookies! And think of the potential science experiments! Hours of entertaining volcanic eruptions on hand at all times!

So last spring I excitedly purchased my first gallon of vinegar and baking soda, and tossed all the smelly ol' store bought sponges in exchange for my handy dandy ripped up recycled clothes. I am loving this stuff. I excitedly spray vinegar all over the place every chance I get. In fact, we fight over who gets to excitedly spray vinegar all over the place. (Geoff did worn me away from our metal kitchen cabinets. Apparently he makes a fine chemical patina for his metal work - out of vinegar.)

The very best part of this household shift is that my chemophode self no longer has to scream at my kids as I clean the bathroom, "Don't touch the bathtub! I just put Comet on it! Just stay out! Save yourself!"

Now I can invite Mommy's little helpers in with the only problem being that I can go through a gallon of vinegar in like a second once Matilda starts spraying, and that Oscar is usually right behind her, "It's my turn to spray!"

Cleaning has become a little simpler in terms of product load, and it has got me thinking even more about all the unnecessary chemicals that are dumped down our lives each day. The horror of vast quantities of oil pouring into our ocean depths was felt by all this summer. But what are we individually pouring down our drains? Do all the little bits add up to a huge horror? All those peed out birth control pills flushing into our water supply, disposable dusting clothes filling the landfill, plug-in room deodorizers perfuming the air, antibacterial hand soaps washing away the good as well as the bad.

I admit there are some products for which a substitute is simply not a choice, and I would guess that this varies per individual. I like lotion. A lot of lotion. It's dry here. But really - yuck - lotion washing down the drain.

And I think I must confess, I like paint. It is so much more satisfying to me to paint a wall then to just try and wash it. There are some walls in my house that I paint every year. Try to imagine 15 layers of paint on the wall between my living room and kitchen. I wonder if its taken inches off my room size?

Right now it is EVIL in Matilda's room. as the pretty pink paint begins to dry and harden and mesh with the plaster. The fumes are filtering away and hazily float up and out the window...