YOUR SPACE: Mother is ‘sitting on a whole lot of diapers'

Dani Tobey figures she did a good thing by cashing in her 401(k) last year to invest in something that, well, wouldn't go down the toilet.

"Now, instead of sitting on a little bit of money, I'm sitting on a whole lot of diapers," she says.

Tobey, 34, has a garage full of about 10,000 cloth diapers - pinless, colorful, not-your-mother's-generation diapers.

Last year, her husband, a mechanic, got booted out of his "boy clubhouse" garage behind their Old Colorado City home to make way for her Baby Cotton Bottoms (babycottonbottoms.com), a retail and Internet business.

"It is kind of recession proof, because people have to buy diapers," says Tobey, who has a master's degree in math. "People turn to cloth diapers to save money."

Yeah, but most parents want to toss, not wash, the output from their little bundles of joy.

After all, dirty diapers are ... just that.

"There are some people who are horrified at the thought," she says. "There are people who aren't going to convert."

She chose the cloth route when daughter Aurora was born four years ago. She knew what she was getting into: as a girl, 30 years ago, she helped her mom cloth diaper her baby sister - pins, harsh rubber pants, water pail and all.

Modern diapering, she claims, is different.

For openers, a spray hose easily connects to the toilet to clean the crud. As she so eloquently puts it: "There's no poop touching."

The diaper "pail" is a fabric bag. In go the cloth wipes, moistened with special "hiney" spray to do the job.

Overall, "it's just an extra load of laundry every few days," she says.

It's not saving the planet, she says. "Environmentally, there is argument about the washing."

The savings, she says, is not having to keep buying diapers after the initial investments.

Hers start at $12 each, depending on size, brand and whether the outer fabric is no-nonsense polyester or plush velour.

Velcro closures, snaps and elastic leg bands form a tailored, nonspill fit. Top colors are "the ones popular in clothing," Tobey says. "Celery green and poop brown."

The designer diapers look too nice to soil. At least they look nice in the "before" stage.

But what about the "after?"

"With good detergent, good washing habits, they shouldn't stink," she says.

Tobey holds Diaper 101 classes about products and proper care. It is that complicated.

Many products she sells are made by work-at-home moms in Colorado, who sew the diapers, liners and wipes. Her main supplier is the Cañon City mom who started Thirsties, now a wholesale cloth diaper company.

"It's keeping moms home with their kids while earning money," Tobey says. "To me that is wonderful."

Before motherhood, Tobey, a New Mexico native and Colorado College graduate, worked for MCI and WorldCom.

"I got married, got pregnant, got the house, stayed home and decided I didn't want anything else to do with corporate America," she says. "If my alumni magazine found out what I was doing, a lot of people would be shocked. It turned out to be my calling."

Soon there will be a new bottom to diaper. Her second child is due in February.

-

Tell me your stories: 636-0253 or andrea.brown@gazette.com