There’s a certain diaper rash cream commercial that I’ve overheard as I go about my morning routine.

It really irks me.

In it, the voice over talks about the side effects of untreated diaper rash and says, (insert mournful, yet urgent tone) “Infection. That’s right. Infection.” It’s amazing to me that emphasizing that one word can strike fear in the hearts of American moms everywhere.

Either the generation of educated, hip mothers who are raising children alongside me have gotten really dumb or these baby product marketing people are geniuses.

I’m going with option #2 because they’re targeting the generation of moms who have now made compulsive parenting a chic phenomenon.

That’s right. Its not just acceptable, but its cool to be an obsessive parent. And, apparently, the crazier you are about revising all your recipes to include kid friendly ingredients, the cooler you are. A whole group of moms formerly educated and free thinking must now consult Parenting magazine to figure out how to get their kids to sleep through the night and run right down to the store to pick up that very special diaper rash cream with the very special ingredient to prevent infection.

Woe to those who would actually feed their kids pasta and sauce with a red pepper in it.

And those of us who do are considered slacker moms, I guess.

But I’m not. In spite of that fact that I abhor most things antibacterial, my house is generally clean most of the time. Bedtimes and homework times and a general organization is observed. I worry about the Big Things like the mean girl syndrome and the nasty messages little girls send each other. A fatal catastrophe will probably not result in taking my kids to a family function where a cousin may have a runny nose. I don’t worry that an occasional run through the drive through will result in an obese kid. The message that the MOD and I send when we go out for a run or keep up a healthy diet is a far better habit than worrying about the potentially drastic contents of a Happy Meal.

Long term issues occupy my mind: like raising kids with good manners and the ability to make good choices rather than the possibility that their cognitive ability may just be impacted down the line if they watch that episode of Blue’s Clues. Or how to downplay all the BUY ME NOW! messages that kids get in our extremely disposable world. Trying to explain to the Bear why we cannot just head off to Target anytime something breaks, spills, or otherwise disappears could be considered a part time hobby around here.

Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe the Bee will get a diaper rash which will lead to an infection which will interfere with her 12 month old self esteem and she’ll end up being a 21st century follower of the ideologies of the Manson family. Maybe the Llama will continue to chant Bow Chicka Wow Wow until he ends up being a consultant to the porn industry. Perhaps the Bear will idolize Paris Hilton.

Who knows? But if I go crazy, it will be a MUCH better reason- lack of good red wine available in Utah stores. Sorry. Listening to that Colbie Caillait song- AGAIN. Sorry. Discussing politics with my libertarian friend. I give up. Maybe I’m already there.

UPDATE: This must be on lots of people’s minds because I found this right after I published this entry. With much more style than I can muster, she describes my feelings exactly! So, why is every commercial aired during the am hours selling some kind of antibacterial cleaning product?