These dreaded little dolls with their infuriatingly teensy tiny little shoes and rubber clothes… argghh!!! Yes, my daughter adores them. I noticed, something though… check out this photo:
From left to right: Polly Pocket doll, the first Cinderella polly we got, and then the most recent Cinderella polly we acquired.
Notice anything?
Edited: March 2nd, 2010
Recently I’ve been involved in some very heated discussions about the Disney princess empire, and why I’m choosing to keep my daughter away from it. (For as long as I can.) Actually, heated isn’t even the right word. I was attacked because of my stance that the Princess movies can and do contribute to a sexist view of women in the world, and they can and frequently do effect the way our little girls look at themselves and the women and men around them.
Currently my daughter is not yet 3. So she is not yet in the “hot button” phase of the Princess obsession, for which I am grateful. I am very, very hopeful that we will avoid the princess obsession through my own example and through providing her with alternate role models that are also female, fun, and (my personal preference) as ferocious as possible.
So for now, we watch things like Kiki’s Delivery Service, about a little female witch who saves the day! And instead of pretending to eat a poison apple and fall into a sleep from which only her prince can save her, my little one pretends to rescue us on her broom. Over and over. One day she will be exposed to the idea of princess as helpless-heroine, I’m sure, it’s unavoidable. But she will encounter it with a background of having seen women as RESCUERS, SAVIORS, the strong brave ones who saved the day! She will see princesses through a different lens than a little girl who has never seen women in that role.
Beauty and the Beast is one of the movies which was up for discussion. Someone pointed out that Beauty and the Beast is not exactly a *current* Disney production, which is true. However it’s also true that Belle is promoted as one of the Princess’s, and so her story is told over and over all the time. So it’s definitely relevant. Let’s talk about the scene where Gaston proposes to Belle.
He tells her all about the fabulous life she’ll have, raising his babies and rubbing his feet. To which she, rightfully, wrinkles her (tiny, pretty, and oh yes oh so white) nose. Then he pins her up against the wall, telling her how lucky she will be. She gracefully, gently, extricates herself and gives him the boot.
Excellent.
Er… except for the fact that this big, burly asshole felt completely entitled to waltz into her home, put his dirty feet on her table, and pin her to the wall. Not something I want my daughter to believe is EVER ok.
Then of course there is the fact that ultimately she is held captive and falls in love with her captor. A particularly disgusting message in light of the fact that men who kidnap little girls often work very hard to convince them that they are in fact their saviour, not their captor.
Frankly I do not feel our children lose anything by not being exposed to these ideas at a very young age, and further, I do think that we as parents have the power to say no to it. If we cave and allow it into our homes, we give it our tacit approval, no matter what we say about it later. We have options in this day and age, to NOT show our children things like this and still provide them with a huge world of pretend play, lots of various role models, and all kinds of rich stories to spark imagination. I’m not anti-tv. Well, I am, except I’m also human and deal with a high-needs child, so we do watch a lot of tv. We watch Ni Hao Kai Lan, and Diego, and Kiki, and Totoro, and now Ponyo, and Sesame Street, and Dragon Tales.
I am not in my own mind a rabid feminist. Apparently to others, I am! Ironic as I’m a stay-at-home mom. Then again, I’m not so great at dishes or housekeeping, and my husband does all the laundry. So it’s my hope that my daughter will see both my husband and I sharing equal roles in our marriage and life together and learn by our example.
This is a really interesting video about masculinity in Disney movies. In other words, yeah, it’s not only little girls who are effected by these ideas about gender.
I believe it’s possible to be a feminist mom without being a “no-fun” mom, and that’s what I aspire to be.
Edited: September 5th, 2009
It’s still a revelation to me that other children do NOT need to be worn/vacuumed to sleep just about every time. My daughter is 2.5 years old, 42 lbs, and 38″ tall; and has spent about 90 minutes on my back today. Today was a “heavy use” (haha!) day as I kept her on my back to shorten the duration of her afternoon nap… but still, she is usually on my back for at least 20 minutes a day.
This is not, FWIW, a “Yay ME, I RAWK” post. The reality is that for me, and my child, babywearing is a necessity. For other children it may not be, or it may even be counterproductive. But from day one, literally, I have been wearing this child and cannot imagine being without it. I remember stumbling to the bathroom in the dark on the second or third day after she was born, and managing to get her into the sling finally. An absolute necessity because she insisted she be held, and I needed at least one hand free to… well, you know! I was unpracticed at slinging and didn’t have her in properly so one hand was still supporting her, but even having that one hand free was so helpful.
Snug in a Moby wrap
I am not sure which came first; the low milk supply or the high-needs baby, or if one created the other, but pretty soon I realized I had a child who wanted to be in arms All. The. Time. I ate with her in the sling, brushing crumbs off her sweet baby hair. I walked with her in the sling. As soon as she was big enough, I was reading tutorials and practicing getting her on my back in a mei tai; at about 3 months I started carrying her regularly on my back.
I cannot even count the number of times having a sling or carrier has literally saved the day for us. Quite recently (in March) was the day we were at Sea World San Antonio and lil’ stuff just… was… done. Overdone. And she just lost it, and I lost it and sat down and cried for a few minutes, unsure what to do with her because she was just being completely horribly impossible, and finally I threw her on my back in a carrier I had stashed in the diaper bag. Thank goodness, as I had about eight zillion miles to walk her out of there, through huge crowds, in raging Texas heat. Instead of my having to a) carry her (impossible) in my arms, or b) coax her screaming and tantruming out (also impossible), I was able to soothe her, give myself a moment, and get both of us out of there so we could calm down.
Sound asleep in a bustling DC hotel
When she had the flu, at about a year old, carriers saved the day too. Well, I actually had the flu also. Both of us just so sick, and she could not sleep. I wound up sleeping sitting up in a chair, with her in a mei tai tied to me. So both of us were able to sleep sitting up, and I didn’t have to worry about falling asleep and dropping her. Lifesaver!
One thing I did not expect was the way wearing my daughter on my back freed up my personal space. I knew it would enable me to have my whole front free; although the power of that cannot be underestimated until arms that have been full of baby for months are, finally, FREE. But I didn’t know that in my own moments of frustration I could have a tiny bit of separation from her by putting her on my back, while still giving her the comfort of my body and presence.
Of all the reasons to be a mom in the Internet age, having access to *so* much information; the most helpful to me personally has been information about babywearing, access to information about carriers, carries, how-to’s, videos, tutorials, you name it. I feel so lucky to have had this, and try to think of having a child like Bella 15 years ago pre-Internet! Eeeks! No carriers? Just a stroller?!?!
I never did master much nursing in a sling or other carrier; but we sure did master the sleeping-and-snuggling in the sling, and the comfort-baby-in-the-sling. We never had a playpen, or a crib, but did I ever invest in some lovely carriers; and did they ever get a lot of use! I’m actually getting a new carrier soon from a lovely mama who makes them over at Carry Me Mama. She made my very favorite carrier, and I am so excited about the new one, which will hopefully fit my big strong girl a bit better!
This post seems random until you realize that I’m writing it minutes after wearing my daughter to sleep… again.
Edited: July 9th, 2009
I just read this post, titled Project Yes over at Bad Mommy Moments. Love, love, love. The idea being that we should all make an effort to find ways to say yes to our children, amidst the hundreds of things we find ourselves saying NO about every day.
And I realized that even though “nos” are important and there will always be a need to use them, saying “yes” is more important. It’s harder. It’s often unappreciated. And sometimes it’s painful. Especially on rainy days when all you want to do is curl up on the floor and disappear.
But you never really know what’s inside of your kid until you say “yes” and give them the permission to show you.
I’m definitely going to make an effort to say yes to my daughter more often. Half the time when I say “No,” anyways, I’ve said it without really thinking; and a few minutes later change my mind. Better to say yes in the first place, and get out of the habit of No No NO-ing every little thing!
Edited: July 4th, 2009
My hero is my husband. He has always been an inspiration to me, from the moment we first met. He just gave so much of himself to me, right away, and never wavered in his love of me.
I was a smoker when we met, and I was one of those really obnoxious smokers who did not understand why other people didn’t like cigarette smoke, or why throwing cigarettes on the ground IS indeed littering, or why smoke in restaurants is so annoying. But for some reason, I never wanted to smoke around my husband. I did, I mean, don’t get me wrong. But I always felt guilty. I had always known I wanted to quit smoking (my mom died of lung cancer at age 51), so once things started getting heavy with him… once I knew I wanted to have his babies… I quit. With his support, and without it, I never could have done it.
These days he still inspires me with his strength, calm, and love for his family. He can usually stay cool when I am flying off the handle, losing my shit in the face of overwhelmingly frustrating toddler behavior. When I need to take a break, he is always there to step up for me and his daughter.
Meanwhile, he is still working on our business, PacketProtector, updated his CCIE certification, and is speaking at 2 conferences in the next few months, including DefCon. Usually while I sit around chatting on mommy message boards, he is doing something productive.
And, to top it all off…
He does the laundry. That’s right bitches, be jealous. (And never mind that he mostly does it because I’m terrified I’ll fall down the stairs if I try to carry those big baskets down our two big flights of stairs!)
Baby, you rock my socks off!
Edited: June 4th, 2009
Sexism, alive and well on the cover of a Handy Manny book!
The first time I encountered sexism in one of our activities was in our Kindermusik class. Now, please don’t misunderstand me; I love Kindermusik and our teacher has been lovely since day one. Bella *adores* her. But sometimes the content makes me a little crazy. As an example, one rhyme goes:
The carpenter’s hammer goes rap rap rap
and his saw goes see-saw-see
he hammers and hammers and saws and saws
and builds a house for me!
Well it bugged me that the carpenter is always male. I asked if we could alternate doing he’s and she’s in the song, and our teacher graciously did so. Of course there’ve been other things; the females are almost always in the kitchen, sister has a mirror, etc etc. But overall, I love the class; the sexist content has really been my only complaint.
Sexism is one of those insidious little things that just straight up bugs me. At home, I frequently change the protagonist of songs and stories to be female. I very much want my daughter to grow up knowing that women and men can exist in whatever roles they choose. I want her to understand that life is fluid, and the important thing is that we all figure out what makes us happy. I don’t want her bound by gender roles. I know that some of it is unavoidable, but in those places where we can make a change for the better, why wouldn’t we?
Today I asked our preschool teacher if she could alternate singing Old MacDonald with a male and female role, instead of always as a male. She got quite flustered, and said that her farmer dolls are all men, and she won’t be singing it again anyways, and the kids don’t notice anyways.
Well. Yes, they do notice. Yes, it does matter. Yes, it is just a tiny thing, just a little tiny thing, but it is one little tiny thing thrown in with millions of other little tiny things that all add up to some very big things. It seems a pretty easy thing to do, honestly, and I’m not sure what the big deal is. But she seemed quite flustered, and like she was humoring me to even discuss such a thing.
I mean, everyone knows that farmers are only MEN, right? It’s not like women could handle those big bad tractors, or hammers, or big bags of grain, or… y’know, manly stuff.
Of course, this teacher, this semester, are temporary; and actually almost over! But I know that this is only the first of many times I will be making similar requests through my daughter’s schooling.
Edited: April 1st, 2009
Here’s how I lose points in my daughters playroom…
1) She’s watching the Wiggles while I type this!
2) There is a TV in her playroom! (We are not in her playroom now, we are in the living room. The TV in there is for us all to play dance dance revolution on. Still!)
3) Tons of plastic monstrosities as far as the eye can see!
4) Books, books, and more books! Plus a bin full of books to rotate with the other books!
5) Alphabet puzzle!
6) I’m currently trying to bribe her through her pottying strike with M&Ms. She just had her first M&M installment and is now stomping her feet and saying MORE! Eeeks!
7) She had canned spaghettio’s for lunch. NOT EVEN THE ORGANIC KIND. (With black beans, cheese, kale, and sweet potato puree. Still, though!) 
Finally… the dreaded Black Crayon. Yes, there are black crayons everywhere!
Edited: October 27th, 2008
Do you remember the last time your baby kicked you from inside your belly? I don’t. I went into labor in the middle of the night, so it’s likely that she was kicking me in my sleep, and I just don’t remember. I don’t remember her kicking me during the labor either, although I’m sure she did.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately because Bella is becoming less and less interested in nursing. I keep wondering when the last time will be, and if I will know it is the last time, or if I’ll forget all about it until much later, like I did with her kicking me. I want to remember. I want to remember all the last times! I want to remember the last time she needs my help to go up and down the stairs, I want to remember the last diaper I put on her, I want to remember the last night she snuggles up to me in bed, I want to remember the last time she comes running over to me hollering “AhahAHahAHAhahaha!” and slams into me for a hug. I want to remember everything, and I know that my brain just cannot take it; so much new stuff happens that the old stuff just fades away.
What about you? Do you remember any important last times for you and your child?
Edited: July 9th, 2008
I feel like I spend all day long every day chasing around a head full of bouncy red curls. Today we went to Cooper’s Rock State Forest for Bella’s first hike! Well, we went on a tiny hike yesterday, but this one was bigger and more deliberate. Plus, we took the dog, which really ups the “Real Hike” quotient in my mind. Anyways, Bella did great. The trail was a mess, very uneven, muddy. She was just running around having a blast. I got some amazing photos of her and Charlie together! We were out there for about an hour, maybe a little more, and we hiked for under a mile! Things just take longer with Bella around.
We returned home sweaty and muddy to find that our landlord had stopped by in our absence to repair a leaky faucet, and left us with no water! Apparently he was “fixing” it and “broke” something so now we have “no water.”
I curled up with Bella like I always do, to help her down for her nap. We’re doing a lot better; we’ve reached the No Twiddle zone, which is just a great place to be! She fell asleep pretty quickly, and I found myself drifting off with her. I woke up to a huge, huge, huge crash of thunder that sounded like it was about to rip the roof off the house. The bed and walls were literally vibrating from the force of it! Bella was all snugged up against me, wearing only a diaper, all snuggly soft babyflesh and bouncy curls. I held her a little closer with all that thunder. I thought I should get up, but the thunder was just so LOUD and scary, I didn’t want to leave her. I fell asleep again, and we slept together for three and a half hours! Her usual nap time is about two hours. Sleepy us!
We decided to get a room at a hotel just to take showers; I don’t like to leave my dog alone overnight, so we are back home to sleep for the night. At the hotel, we went to the pool and swam for an hour and had a wonderful time. I just felt so happy, in the warm water with my baby in my arms smiling and laughing and splashing.
Now, of course, I’m up when I should be sleeping. So I better get to bed, lots more chasing to do tomorrow!
Edited: July 7th, 2008
In each moment, you think you will remember everything. Every little breath and sigh, every smile, laugh, giggle. The way the light hits her little face, upturned nose, eyelashes fluttering. But nope. No. You won’t.
So write everything down; jot down notes every time you can think of it. Like, today Bella walked up steps with me just holding her hand, for the first time. Very cool. Also, she is now giving fishy-face kisses where she sucks the sides of her mouth in and kisses you. She is also completely obsessed with “helping” in the kitchen, on a chair pulled up to the counter, wooden spoon in hand. She goes completely hysterical if you try to move her away. She also got up on the chair by herself (!!!!) today. My 16 month old girl!
What I remember from those days after she was born is so splotchy now, and you really do think you will remember it forever, this tiny creature in your arms! I remember feeling a little detached and out of it at first, I think I was a bit shell-shocked by the birth and the entire process. I couldn’t concentrate on my baby because the cord was hurting me. My skin is soooo sensitive. I remember nursing for the first time and thinking that it would all go fine, we would be fine together. Ha!
I remember sleeping with her on my belly; I was scared I’d drop her, or roll over on her, our bed was just not big enough for the three of us. (We got a new one.) I remember not being able to find a comfy position to nurse in at first; I wish I’d prepared better for that and will for the next baby. I remember sitting up in bed with a pillow on my lap to prop her up, and just crying; my back hurt so badly, I was so tired, and next thing I knew my nipples were bleeding. I remember fumbling to the bathroom with Bella in my red hotsling, in the dark, in the middle of the night. I was using the peri bottle to help with the soreness when I peed, and needed both hands. I remember being up in the middle of the night, sitting on the couch, nursing and watching VH1 and listening to videos. The Fray… “I stayed up with you all night…” That kind of resonated with me!
I remember… cheesecake! I had a homemade cheesecake that served as my go to meal for a while. Hey, fat and protein and homemade and calories in an easy to grab format; worked for me. (Again, something I’ll plan for better next time!)
I remember days when my husband would come home and I would be sitting there with Bella asleep in my lap, unable to move, having to pee, wanting to just get up and WALK, and handing her to him… “TAKE THIS BABY.”
I remember so many tears shed over my low supply, taping the SNS to my breast and the awful rash I got from the tape. (Yep, tried eight hundred kinds of tape. Sensitive skin!) Formula dribbles all over my couch, me, the baby… everything. Evil SNS, how I hate/love you. My poor skinny baby, cannot even think of her being so thin and everyone saying “Oh, she is fine.” Fine NOW, at a chunky 32 lbs! She is not destined to be a lil’ petite thing, that is all.
The memories are just so fleeting. I lie in bed with her and hold her so close and kiss her and kiss her because I just sometimes want to freeze the moment, so precious, holding her in my arms. Soon she will be running away from me, embarrassed by me, telling me I don’t understand her, and oh please just don’t ever let her say she hates me. My heart might just break, even though I know it’s a teen thing. I don’t think I could take it. It’s hard for me to look ahead, or look back, and even looking right at her sometimes I feel like my heart is going to just straight up explode out of my chest, her beauty and wonder and… awe.
However, none of the above means that I didn’t want to throw her beautiful self right out the fucking window last night when she wouldn’t stop mauling my tits!! I guess I mother to extremes.
Edited: May 2nd, 2008
