The first time I came across the Oregon Environmental Council’s font of goodies for green-leanin’ expectant parents, it was May 2006, and I was 38 weeks pregnant, high on a free Oregon School of Massage prenatal rubdown and a chocolate milkshake. After two weeks nursing a back injury so agonizing people downtown routinely thought I was in labor when all I was trying to do was hobble across Pioneer Square, I waddled, blissfully pain-free, around the OEC’s mini-festival of information and schwag at P.B. and Ellie’s Café in Multnomah Village, stuffing pamphlets in my pockets with indiscriminate delight. Hmm, this looks in-tee-resting, I thought, but quite honestly, I was so trippy you could have given me a pamphlet that read “Destroy Civil Liberties, Pollute the Planet, and Outlaw Burgerville” and I would have grinned, Mmmkay!
Apparently, my body wisely knew it needed some endorphins in da hizzouse, because, two hours later, I woke up from a post-P.B. and E’s Thai peanut quesadilla carb-coma nap to the feel of what can only be described as a freaking waterfall of amniotic fluid running down my leg. Yes, my daughter was not without a sense of humor even in utero; the little monkey probably figured that, hey, they bought the carseat yesterday, Mom got to be pain-free for an hour today, and we know all about our environmentally-friendly options now, so let’s get this party started!

Several days later, sitting in my crappo apartment bathtub (which cannot hold a candle to the birthin’ tubs at the Andaluz Waterbirth Center in Tualatin, lemme tell ya), luxuriating in my midwife-prescribed herb-laden soak while my new little muffin slept, I opened that bag o’schwag, and actually took out the goods from the OEC. At first, being an ex-DC girl, where people worry mainly about hardcore stuff like infant mortality and being green is something only the diplomats can afford, I thought, Oh my goodness, isn’t this a quaint “Made in Oregon” moment, just like that goofy neon reindeer on its hind legs presiding over Old Town.

But then, I read their literature. (I had time to read their literature, because my daughter had not yet reached her original due date, and was thus sleeping round the clock, faking me out that new motherhood was easy.) And ya know what? That OEC has some fantastic tricks up its sleeve.

Its Tiny Footprints program, for instance, in which they offer everything from how-to kits for sustainable living baby showers to green cleaning tips to the latest info on those daggum pesky plastic toys (available both on zee web and in print, in case you happen to be a bathtub reader like moi). And – now here’s the only-in-Oregon kicker – how about their Eco-Friendly Childcare standard? Yes, that’s right, stressed-out working parents, you too can get a list from those fine people of 100-plus childcare providers all over the state, who meet at least 20 of their 25 standards on everything from no bleach use to recycling to nontoxic art supplies. Some of who far exceed the voluntary credential, offering organic food and cloth diapers. Some of who are yes, bless it, actually west of the river. Sigh. The thought is enough to make a tired mama in Beaverton weep. Or at least craft a dorky public service announcement, a la the MAX train recordings:

Click those hyperlinks while your kiddos sleep, give thanks to our great state in which these resources reside, put the herbs into your postpartum bathtub still inside the muslin bag, and remember: Sprinting across the Elmonica station parking lot to catch the Blue Line to Gresham in your third trimester is always, no matter what, a Really Bad Idea™.