As we hovered over our toddlers during a neighborhood play date, my friend and I indulged in the guilty pleasure of green-mom confessions.

My friend told me her new energy-efficient dishwasher came with a trial size of Jet Dry, a so-called rinse agent. She couldn't resist trying it and was pleased with the sparkly results. But as a cloth-diapering green mom, she swore she would never buy it. Though Jet Dry isn't a notorious toxic product, it's ecological heresy to spray dishes with chemicals in the name of shiny silverware.

I admitted that I, too, had heard the siren call of Jet Dry, which I had also acquired as a freebie. "I kept it around for really messy cleanups like Thanksgiving," I told her.

She declared that a great compromise, and we laughed about the absurdity of our green-mom lives, expending so much mental energy pondering the benefits of line drying over the electric dryer and researching eco-friendly shampoo.

I looked up Jet Dry alternatives online and found some get good results by pouring vinegar down the dishwasher chute. "White vinegar," another green mom gushed, "is there anything this miracle product cannot do?"

Word!

I wish everything about green living were as simple as plain, white vinegar. I just want to do what's best for my child and the environment. But since deciding over a year ago to live greener, I've learned that conservation is too wrapped up in politics and the economy to make anything straightforward. When you spend most of your day chasing after a toddler, you long for a few minutes to read the paper, enjoy a phone call from a friend and find an answer when you have a question about your kid's safety.

When it comes to deciding whether I should trade plastic sippy cups for aluminum, I'll keep longing.

My conversion to a more Earth-friendly lifestyle started after my daughter, Celia, was born in 2006. I saw "An Inconvenient Truth" and wanted to take action. We adapted to the eerie glow of energy-efficient fluorescent light bulbs. I discovered most garbage can be recycled, though I have to use half a dozen recycling programs.

The easiest switch was to eco-friendly cleaning products. I have a low standard for cleanliness and found that hot, soapy water with a little vinegar and its miracle-product cousin, baking soda, works fine. Toting canvas bags to Publix was no big deal.

I found a Community Supported Agriculture program accepting new members, and I'm awaiting my first delivery from TaylOrganic Farm in Henry County.

But when I went to take the next step — Green Mom 2.0, if you will — I had more frustrations than victories. I've spent too much time on the Internet and the phone, trying to track down reliable sources on issues such as water conservation, safe toys, composting and dog waste disposal.

Once I made the obvious changes, I was left with pricey projects such as energy-efficient windows that put my frugal self at odds with my inner green mom. Yes, efficient upgrades pay for themselves over time, but we don't know how long we'll remain in our house.

I encountered conflicting information about the safety of products such as sunscreen and mosquito repellent. I ended up with a drawer full of products that either don't work or contain scary chemicals.

Seemingly simple choices, such as a sandbox for Celia, turned headache-inducing. I wanted a wooden sandbox instead of plastic, but the cost of carcinogen-free sand is so high, I couldn't afford to fill the giant wooden sandboxes on the market. We'll go to the beach.

I was gung-ho for composting, but after seven months of tossing produce scraps and coffee grounds into my tumbler, I am still not seeing a lot of decomposition. A gardening expert assured me I'll get better results as the weather warms up, but, sheesh, the thing is getting heavy.

I loved cloth diapers during Celia's first year, but the drought made me wonder if the six extra loads of laundry each week were worse than sending disposables to the landfill. I found no help from extension services and other experts, so I abandoned her adorable Fuzzi Bunz and returned to disposables.

The more I read about water conservation, the more confused I got. My husband, Jason, and I cut back on toilet flushes using the if-it's-yellow-let-it-mellow principle. I stuffed the dishwasher and washing machine full. Yet I wasn't convinced such indoor water conservation was doing much good. Our water bill stayed the same.

Meanwhile, I held dearly to a vice more abhorrent in the green-mom world than Jet Dry: long showers. One night Jason banged on the bathroom door and told me I had a phone call. I turned off the water and asked who it was. "It's Governor Perdue," he said. "He wants you to stop draining all the water out of Lake Lanier!"

Point taken. I moved low-flow shower heads up on my buy-someday list and promised to do better. And, finally, I found an expert willing to answer my questions. Amy Vickers, a Massachusetts conservation consultant and author of an acclaimed tome, "Handbook of Water Use and Consumption," told me outdoor water use, such as lawn watering and irrigating, is responsible for soaring usage.

She recommended Georgians worry less about toilet flushes and more about the water used to keep lawns lush. She wants people to let their lawns go brown in the winter and survive only on rainfall, even when we're not getting much.

Now there's a green tip I love — something I've been doing for years out of laziness.

Vickers said cloth diapers are the better choice given the amount of water that goes into manufacturing disposables. I may return to Fuzzis or invest in organic cotton diapers, and I'm hoping for good returns on time invested in early toilet training. I'll keep scaling back indoor water usage in compliance with the every-little-bit-helps principle.

She also encouraged me to scratch off my eco-product list those plastic rain barrels used to collect roof run-off. "Streams and aquifers need that water," she said. "Let nature do the watering."

I don't have a garden, so I don't know why I thought I needed rain barrels anyway. That brings me to another irritating aspect of the green-mom life. There is a rampant, off-putting consumer aspect: Buy this cool tote bag! Buy this organic-cotton T-shirt! Eco-toys, eco-shoes, eco-jewelry ...

I'm happy to have Earth-friendly alternatives, but I fear the idea of shopping our way to a more sustainable way of life hurts the credibility of the push toward low-impact living. Christopher Gavigan, author of "Healthy Child, Healthy World," said the emphasis should be on reducing one's impact, not owning every solar-powered gadget.

"I don't want it to become a green consumer movement," he said. "When you buy, buy wisely. It's also about reducing the amount of stuff in our lives."

On the plus side, the green movement's trendy turn has brought more nontoxic products to supermarkets, he said. "It's no longer a fringe market."

True, but I told him I was overwhelmed with choices. He helped me out with his favorite mosquito repellent: Bite Blocker. He also suggested I cut myself some slack. "Everyone can do what they can," he said. "But no one can do it all."

For further inspiration, I talked to Jen Boulden, a Walton High School alumnus who now treads lightly in Montana and runs IdealBite.com, which emphasizes the fun, less preachy side of going green. She wants to get people hooked on the idea of lessening their impact gradually, driven by an addiction to doing the right thing, not guilt or fear. "These smaller things add up so quickly," she said, suggesting women shave with the water off to cut shower time.

In the spirit of confessionals, Boulden said she carries leather bags. They're long-lasting, and are better than PVC-laden pleather bags, she said. She gives herself latitude because she doesn't eat meat.

She doesn't have kids, but she has a dog. So I grilled her about dog waste. What does she do with it? She uses biodegradable bags rather than plastic for scooping, she said, noting that her Corgi is small.

But, she said, dog owners with more than one or with large breeds can compost their dog waste with something called the Pet Poo Converter. For $100, you can turn your dog's poop into fertilizer, using worms to gobble up bacteria!

OK, I'll shorten my showers. I'll buy a low-flow shower head. I'll keep the faith with composting. I'll slather my daughter with Earth-friendly sunscreen. I'll scoop my dogs' poo with biodegradable bags, as long as they don't decompose in my hand. But here's my latest green-mom confession: I won't be buying a Pet Poo Converter.

Ever.

• Read Part 1 of 'Green Mom'

ONLINE RESOURCES

• cosmeticdatabase.com: Find out the "hazard score" of your favorite sunscreen, lotion or lip gloss.

• www.treehugger.com: Tackles diverse green issues such as whether reporting on China's environment is fair, as well as basic green-living tips.

• www.healthychild.org: Advice on raising children safely and happily in a toxic world.

• www.idealbite.com: Green-living tips with a sense of humor.

• www.lazyenvironmentalist.com: How to live green without sacrificing style.

• www.lowimpactliving.com: How to green your home, including tips on graywater recycling.

• www.thegreenguide.com: Everything from eco-friendly back-to-school supplies to how to talk to your child about global warming. Sponsored by the National Geographic Society.