It was Amazon Prime that brought me to a very dark realization: I am an environmental terrorist.
Or at least that’s what it felt like.
I had ordered a two-pack of sippy cups a few nights prior, and like online shopping magic, that smile on the cardboard box greeted me at my doorstep. I had become very familiar with that cheerful logo since my second daughter was born. Let’s just say sniffing my milk-streaked nursing top to see if a stain was butternut squash or baby poop was not a one-time thing, so a Target run was just not happening as I adjusted to life under the tyranny joy of two kids. Instead, I clicked “buy” on one thing or another nearly every day, which created a stream of deliveries so steady that I came to know our UPS guy by name. (Hi, Dave!)
I opened this one to find a few plastic Elmo cups surrounded by enough air-filled plastic film to choke several dozen sea turtles. I took a photo of the excessive packaging and sent it, outraged, to Amazon. But my indignation was just so much bubble wrap around a deeper feeling of shame. I had just brought another baby into the world—a world I was spoiling every day.