I was totally inspired by the Leave No Plastic Behind [1]art installation here in Portland, wherein the artists tried to abstain from buying single-use plastics for three months, and then made art [2]out of any plastic they accumulated anyway. I decided to try to go a week without buying plastic. I know that even though we’re careful, our family uses a lot of plastic daily, and so much of it can’t be recycled, but I wanted to see just how much our lives would be affected if I started paying attention to every plastic window, bag, or jar. Here’s how it went:

Day 1 – Plastic Free Week started with an unpleasant wake up call. A hearty WHACK and thunk as the newspaper hit our picture window and fell to the porch. I walked out to retrieve it and of course it was… wrapped in plastic.

Georgia and I went to Trader Joe’s. I got my three paper bags out of the trunk I expected to reuse, walked in the store and stopped dead in my tracks.

“What’s wrong, Mommy?” said Georgia, visibly alarmed by my swooning.

“Well, remember how we were going to try to not buy any plastic for a week? Everything here is wrapped in plastic!”

I almost caved right away, but then thought I would just try to see how far I could take it. We do survive on soy milk, and even though it has a plastic spout on it, and surely some sort of plastic coating the tetra pak, I got two containers. One quart of cow milk, three cans of cat food, and a bottle of wine (turns out the “foil” on the wine was plastic too). I moved fast so Georgia wouldn’t ask for too much, though she was chanting, "Plastic, plastic, plastic!" through the aisles. I wasn’t able to buy bread, paper towels, nuts, cheese, TEA! The box of tea is wrapped in plastic, and the tea bags inside are enshrined in a plastic pillowcase. I’m guessing it’s so the tea goodness doesn’t escape and so it doesn’t get wet. Tea is my only caffeine intake, and I almost made an exception. But I can get bulk tea, even if it’s more of a pain. I can go to the bakery for bread. It’s only Day One and I don’t think I can go a whole week.

Hova’s allergy medicine came today, two plastic bottles (recyclable) in a plastic mailing envelope (not recyclable).

Day 2 – One way to deal with difficulty is to retreat. So I didn’t go into any stores today, even though we need food. I need to go without my little “helper.” However, I did have a meeting with the fabulous Melinda, Head Mama [2] of Earth Mama Angel Baby [3] — and walked away with two bottles of lotion, lots of jars of tea, and two tubes of lip balm. Georgia gave me a funny little look while graciously receiving the heavenly Angel Baby Lotion, and when we got in the car she said, “Mommy… plastic!” It didn’t even occur to me, but she remembered. I told her it was OK, because they were gifts and we didn’t have to turn down gifts. (They are also recyclable, and the company is very environmentally conscious).

Day 3 – When I told Hova we didn’t have any bread for toast because it’s Plastic Free Week he quipped, “You mean FOOD free week?” I revised my grocery list and went to three stores instead of one, without Georgia. Is it worth saving one petroleum product while using another to drive all over town? I realize the cereal I was going to buy has a plastic bag inside. Is it OK if I pretend I don’t know there’s plastic inside? Can I revise my mission to buying only recyclable plastic, or plastic I will definitely reuse, or plastic that isn’t visible? I decided to just stick with the plan: no plastic. So no yogurt today. I was able to get lots of produce at New Seasons. Long ago I stopped putting my fruits and veggies into plastic bags, I just pile them into the cart and line them up on the conveyor belt at the check out. It’s a habit that I don’t even notice anymore. But if you buy berries, they cover the paper container with a plastic bag, closed with a rubber band, so the berries don’t spill. And I ordered at the meat counter before I noticed they use little plastic napkins to grab the meat, which they then include with your paper-wrapped pork, beef, or fish. I’ve seen it a hundred times, but never noticed it. I’m not about to say to the jocular fellows behind the counter, “Please use your bare hands to handle my meat.” And I’m sure it would be against some food handler law anyway. So I did get some food, and one plastic bag on my berries (which I can reuse), and several unusable plastic meat napkins (which I can’t), but no plastic I chose myself!

I drove to two bakeries, neither one had whole grain bread, and nothing organic [3]. I opted for a crusty sourdough, delicious but of dubious nutritional quality.

Day 4 — Hova and Georgia took the MAX train to the zoo, and I stayed home (that retreat thing again). If we don’t use the car can I buy a loaf of bread in a plastic bag? Bargaining, bargaining… When Hova and Georgia got home I asked, “Did you bring any plastic into our lives today?”

Hova said, “Nope! Oh wait — we got a cookie.”

Georgia’s favorite cookies are the zoo-special animal-shaped, frosted cookies [4], wrapped in plastic.

“I’ll never get to have a cookie again…” she said, with much drama and sad resignation.

We assured her that she could have a cookie, and that we were just doing an experiment to see how much plastic we use, and if there’s a way to use less.

She still seemed worried. What will this crazy mom think up next?

Day 5 — We’re hungry, we need band aids, I’m starting to get depressed, it’s clear the experiment must end. I make a trip to TJ's where I shop greedily, though guiltily — Pay no attention to the plastic window in front of the lasagna noodles!

The Wrap — OK, I know Plastic Free Week was just an experiment of my own design, but somehow I feel like a failure. I expected it to be hard, but to realize there was just no way I could survive a week was like a slick, wet plastic grocery bag slapping me in the face. But, I learned some things. I can buy bulk tea and reuse the plastic bag I had to use to get it (some places even allow you to get a tare weight of your own container). I can reuse a lot of what I get, like bread bags for cat litter duty. Not buying sandwich bread or deli turkey at the grocery store means I’d have to make a lot more trips in the car, which doesn’t make sense financially, or environmentally. It was good to notice every plastic thing that feels so unnecessary, but there’s no way this family can cut it out significantly, let alone completely. Hova already washes the plastic baggies to reuse, and I tend to keep all of the yogurt containers for some unforeseeable, hopeful future “project” (I fear I’ll end up one of those packrat people because of environmental guilt). If I could reuse everything, I’d feel better, but that’s not gonna happen. Unless I can somehow make Georgia’s future prom dress [5]?