Ten Things You Didn't Know About Me (But Now You Do)

1. I close my eyes when I brush my teeth

2. I can spend hours working on crossword puzzles

3. Sometimes I still say good-night to Shabbi and Kika before I go to bed

4. A very close friend stopped talking to me five months ago, for no apparent reason

5. I just made my first Group On purchase and feel like I've finally entered the cyber age

6. My worst faults are that I am envious and I hold grudges

7. I have incredible aspirations that I have convinced myself I will not let go unaccomplished

8. I call my mother and sister 3-5 times a week

9. I never wanted to have kids, but I'm enjoying motherhood far more than I could have ever expected

10. Adam's pet name for me is Wacky Dame

Cultural Snippets

In Michigan (as my fellow Michiganders are well aware), it is common practice to remove one's shoes as soon as one enters someone's house. This is mostly done in the winter when boots are likely to be tracking in dirty snow and ice, or the dripping goop of melted winter fun. However, many of us carry the shoes-off tradition into summer, too, removing any footwear that could possibly track signs of the outside onto someone's pristine carpet, wood or tile. I guess it's a Michigan thing (or an upper Midwest thing).

This tradition is evidently engrained in me, to the point that I removed my shoes when visiting as a guest in the homes of Texas hosts. Yes, Texas, where summer high temperatures reach well past 100 degrees, and winter lows are usually hovering in the mid-50s. Snow, ice and freezing temps are rarities. And yet, my bare feet walked across many a Texas carpets, much to the surprise and (apparent) disdain of my hosts. In Texas, it is evidently rude and presumptuous to think that you can walk around in someone's home without shoes on. I mean, Really!, who does she think she is???

I tried to explain the culture clash but it seemed to fall on deaf (and maybe bewildered) ears. Note to self: carry a pair of slippers next time.

Home

T = 8 Hours

Reunion is imminent :-)

Ever After?

My daughter is a nut for Thomas the Tank Engine. Sometimes her obsession feels like the bane of my existence, as she cries, begs and pleads for him and his tank engine friends--Gordon, James, Percy and Henry. I had once promised myself that no child of mine would ever become beholden to a copyrighted character brand, but that was before I knew the power of marketing and peer pressure.

Just when I think that I'm about to lose it with her whole Thomas fanaticism, I thank my lucky stars that she's infatuated with a train, whose primary goal in life is to be "Really Useful," emphasizing hard work, teamwork and being a good friend. There's nothing about Thomas that concentrates on beauty, waiting for love with other tank engines, or gauging personal value through arbitrary traits.

A few weeks ago, I gave a coworker some fabric that I had been storing for several years with no real plans of using. Knowing she is a gifted seamstress, I thought she might want some nice fabric. Upon seeing the fabric, her first comment was, "I could make your little girl a great little princess costume." Knowing Bryony would rather be pulling the chain of a train whistle than sitting on a thrown in a magical castle, I politely responded, "I didn't bring the fabric for you to make something for my daughter. It's for you to use for whatever you want." But, she persisted, going into detail about what kind of fairy princess outfit she could make for my kid. Inwardly, I winced at the idea. How is it the first thought that came to the mind of my smart, independent, forward-thinking coworker is to dress my daughter up as a princess? However, I delicately said to her, "Actually, Bryony is not much for princesses and fairies. And to be honest, I'm kind of glad about that. She can strive to be a train conductor one day; the chances of her becoming a princess or a fairy are pretty slim." She smiled ruefully and admitted that she should have known better. She went on to describe her frustration with her own nieces who have gone from spunky, curious and brave little girls full of wonder to clothes-obsessed "princesses" whose ambitions in life are to be fashionistas who marry rich.

I've been thinking a lot about the princess phenomenon that seems to be rampant these days. At Halloween, boys were dressed as firemen, ghouls and goblins, superheroes, and Harry Potter. However, I witnessed girl after girl dressed as some variation of a princess or fairy. Even the so-called witches were pretty and princess-like. Why have we propogated the notion to our little girls that the only thing they can be--or, that is worth being--is a beautiful princess? We wonder how our girls are five years old and worrying about being fat. Or, how they are increasingly wearing revealing clothing and trying to appeal to boys at ever younger ages. We like to point the finger at Victoria's Secret, fashion magazines with too-skinny models, and pop culture in general. While I think they all carry their share of the blame, I think we are missing one vital piece. Have we forgotten the whole premise of the "princess syndrome"? In the end, the traditional princess is recognized by the prince for her exquisite beauty (which is usually characterized by long, blonde hair and a svelte waistline) and she lives happily ever after with the man who has ultimately rescued her. Is this the story we want our little girls to model their behavior upon? Beauty being defined by external traits, seeking self-worth from the attentions of a man, and living happily into the future because he has rescued her? What happened to strong, adventurous, free-spirited girls maturing into the bold women of tomorrow? When did we start re-teaching our girls to just be pretty and wait around for a guy? Isn't that the stuff of yesteryear?

A friend recently passed a copy of the Christian Science Monitor on to me. The front page article referenced the current push toward oversexualizing little girls and the craze surrounding the Disney princesses, and the possibility that the two go hand-in-hand. While skimming through the article, I was most disturbed by the story of the mother whose daughter had become the typical princess-obsessed little girl. Her mother noticed that her expressive, rambunctious little girl increasingly gave up activity for dresses and sitting around to "wait for her prince to come." Her mother promptly started making new decisions about what role princesses would play in her daughter's playtime. She also started a blog about what the princess culture in our society is doing to our girls.

I know full well as I write this blog post that some of you who are reading are mothers of little girls, and your daughters are happily acting out the fantasy of the princess life. I don't actually have a problem with role-playing, fantasy or princesses at all, at least not in theory. I think there is a time and place for all of these things. My concern is that not only are little girls increasingly only playing the role of princess during their play (to the exclusion of all other possibilities), but that this pretend play is starting to infiltrate their reality. Do we ever hear of legions of boys who gravitate toward only one possible male character? If we encourage our sons to explore many different role models and characters, why are we allowing our daughters to myopically focus on just one, particularly one that offers so little in character development and self-esteem building?

I recognize that the days of Bryony loving only Thomas and Friends will likely come to an end far too soon, and she will very possibly start the transgression over toward the princess fantasy. I know it will be a difficult thing for me, as her mother, to gauge what is healthy pretend play and what isn't. And I know, that someday, I will really, really miss the familiar toot! toot! of Thomas echoing through our house. After all, it could be my daughter conducting that tank engine. The chances of her being the next crowned princess are far less likely. Thank goodness.

Thanksgiving Snippets

One year, while in New York City, Adam and I decided to donate our collective holiday goodwill to a local soup kitchen. What better way to be appreciative for all that we have than to give our time to help those in need...right?

Not so much, evidently. We were rejected. The girl took one look at us, told us they had enough help and then shut the door in our faces.

These birds haven't ever tried to be that altruistic again. Well, at least not on Thanksgiving Day.

Gobble.