Idaho dad Anthony Doerr takes a break from hipster parenting to agonize over the devastating amount of trash his family generates. His, yours and ours, that is:

Before I became a parent, I didn’t bother to think about garbage all that much. Lately, I can’t seem to forget it. Maybe this is partly because parenting in the new millennium converts average, sane humans into trash-making fiends. Disposable diapers, wipes, nipples, formula bottles, breast pads—eventually, they all end up smelling bad, and they all end up in the garbage. Car seats, pack ‘n’ plays, high chairs, cribs, fold-up strollers—they all come in big boxes, sheathed in plastic bags, clamped in Styrofoam.

Toys might be the worst offenders: Most come in boxes inside boxes, wired in with diabolical 6-inch twist ties or screwed with actual screws into plastic backings. For even the most garbage-conscious parent, holidays, baby showers, and birthdays can become Saturnalias of trash-making: paper plates, batteries, invitations, half-eaten chunks of cake.