I had to share this because even my closest friends look at me like I’m telling ghost stories when I bring it up. Growing up, I used to watch my mom handle cloth diapers in a way that feels almost unreal today. No pack of disposables. No scented wipes. No modern shortcuts. Just grit, routine, and a toilet that saw more action than any toilet ever should. She’d rinse the dirty diapers right there, squeeze out the water with her bare hands, and toss them into the pail to wait for wash day. To her, it wasn’t gross — it was simply what had to be done. As a kid, I thought everyone’s mom did that, never realizing how much strength lived in the small, messy moments she never complained about.
Continues…
