The Princess Thing...

I've been thinking about Princess Culture for sometime now. I think it started when I was in Walmart's toys section, and was bombarded by lots of pink and sparkly things just for my "little princesses' . Princess chairs, dresses, trikes, phones, shoes, clothes, tiaras, you name it - there's a princess logo attached to it. Then a few moments in Shrek the Third (don't want to give plot away) that got me thinking. Then there's the way lots of people refer to my girls as princesses.

I've got to be blunt with you - I like a but of fuchsia, magenta and cerise like the best of them, and given the right context I might even twinkle like a little star. But I hate princess culture.Its not that I dont like it, I hate it. Now obviously, this presents me with a few problem in the light of the fact that I have not one, but two little girls. And even though I have strong feelings, maybe even militant ones, I don't intend to send my kids to their little friends princess parties dressed as Mother Theresa, Condoleeza Rice or Shrek's princess Fiona (though I do LOVE her, so maybe...) to make a point about the princess thing. Otherwise it will just be the forbidden fruit that they will go for.

Its just that more and more in this culture at least I'm wondering if the princess thing is seen as not just a phase a little girl goes through, but an identity that a woman grows into. And I do have a problem with that.
Because it is just not reality, and I am not convinced that it is healthy for intelligent grown women to model their lives, hopes and expectations on Disney.
If you are a princess - then there is one fundamental unreality you live by - ENTITLEMENT.

Princesses are entitled to a beautiful home, a castle. Their every need and whim are instantly met. Their desires are rights, their dreams do come true. They should expect to meet a prince, or at worst a frog who instantly becomee a prince, rather gloriously and dramatically. She will always be beautiful, she will never age. She will always have the same perfectly proportioned body, and be healthy without having to work for it. She will always have some benevolent other - King, Fairy Godmother - who looks after her own interests. And she doesn't have to work hard. Most of all a princess can expect to be rescued from whatever
unfortunate predicament she finds herself in. All very lovely, all very disney, all very not real life.
So is it just a bit of fun, just a harmless fantasy we use to escape from the daily grind? What is wrong with that?
The imagination is a wonderful thing when we know that its just entertainment.But when the princess dream starts to influence our worldview...then we
might come a bit unstuck. Your castle is too small and doesn't have Crate and Barrel, Pottery Barn or wherever else is the place to buy your home furnishings. You kissed a frog and well, he's still a frog and nothing like the princes your friends met. Let's not even talk about
the Princess body. Our desires and dreams have become our rights and they still haven't come anywhere close to coming true, so life is tinted, tainted with disappointments.Its nothing that we can articulate specifically, just an uncomfortable feeling that there must be more
than ... this. And where is our King, and our Fairy Godmother to make us feel special? And perhaps we are still there, in that pose, waiting to be rescued. Its just plain unhealthy.

I must confess we Christians are probably the worst at this. We say we are children of the King, so all God's children are little princes and princesses. I suppose theologically that is true. Its just that the King we follow is the Suffering Servant, the bloodstained humble King.
He's the King who emptied himself of all the entitlement he had and became nothing. He's the king who walked away from it all and walked to the cross.

Not quite the same, is it?Yet I wonder if sometimes we have allowed a few Disneynifcations to shape our perspective of being children of the King? A bit of entitlement type expectations here, a bit of waiting to be rescued by our dashing prince there... A bit of wanting a big benevolent other to make our dreams/rights work for us.....

Sometimes it seems a bit like wanting the resurrection, without the cross bit, you know what I mean?

Maybe I am a princess.Maybe Tia and Zoe are too. If so, then Disney may be cute, but its not the model we need to live this life. We need more than entitlement, physical beauty, dreams and the ability to get rescued. If there is an identity to grow into, then it needs to be
more than someone who believes their dreams are their rights.

Surely we need more than Cinderella and Snow White as a pattern for life.

Surely there's more value in following in the footsteps of a suffering, servant king?

Thank you for the days

There are good days. On a good day - the girls nap at the same time for a couple of hours and wake up cute and smiling. Zoe is giggling in her crib, and Tia is singing "Hello". We descend to the family room, smiling at each other and laughing.

The family room is a playground of stimulating, age appropriate activities. Play doh, stickers, finger painting. Tia counts from 1 - 9 all by herself. Zoe sits and plays with toys. We are listening to Wiggles tunes in the background. Every so often Tia and I stop what we are doing and perform for Zoe who giggles some more. They have healthy nutritious snacks. Dinner is in the oven, perfectly timed. Chris and I chat a little on the phone and the world is wonderful. Its an uber woman day.Chris returns home from work to find the women in his life smiling and glowing.

I am total momma - hear me roar.

Dinner is family fun, and vegetables are eaten. Tia joins in family prayers, Zoe giggles and everyone stays at the table until the last delicious morsel is eaten.The girls go to sleep on time and do not stir. We talk and tidy up the family room thankful for our lives. We rest, we laugh. We read, we enjoy.

Then the bad days
These are the days when my expectations are high and my patience is low. These are TAG days, of whining, sickness, poo, screaming.These are the ugly dark days of mopping up projectile offerings.These are the days when I think it rational to reason like an adult with a 23 month old.These are the days when Tia is eating spaghetti and meatballs - again.

One these kinds of days toddler works of art are on the walls (that I have just cleaned) instead of the paper.Days when Tia seems to be in the naughty corner so much, she might as well camp there!Dinner is not in the oven, its in the future, if we all make it there.The snacks are not the healthiest on earth, but they do produce that beautiful thing called silence. For awhile. And then there is the television. God Bless the television.

( I love you TV.Though I do sometimes guiltily wonder if Tia will develop not an English or US accent, but an Australian one what with the level of Wiggle input she has in her life.)

On these days Zoe refuses to nap, eat or drink.Tia is not satisfied with anything, even if its something she has asked for. The word MINE punctuates every sentence.
Chris comes home to find the women in his life glowering.

I am stressed out momma - hear me scream.

Then there are the moments.When the girls aren't watching. Zoe is sitting playing and I am in awe of this child who is changing everyday. Tia is in her playgroup doing crafts being all grown up and reminding me that this stage isn't always about "the terrible twos". Its a snapshot of awe and wonder.Chris comes home to a holy moment.
We sit down after the girls are in bed, relaxed, grateful. The dishes can wait. The list of jobs can wait. Right now,there's a moment to be had. A moment where its not all about how we are doing as parents, how the kids are doing.Just a moment to take in the complex, yet simple, frustrating, yet wonderful, extraordinary, yet ordinary life we have.

I'm an everyday working mum. Hear me say - its going to be OK.

The way we were

I think it would have been easier to get fit if I didn't remember how I used to be. Then everything would be a fabulous achievement.It would also be more helpful if I was not the consummate overachiever.

But neither of the above is the case.I do remember. Oh I remember. And of course my memory has got rid of the sweat, frustration and pain. I just remember going for long runs that would last for miles and miles. I remember Chris and I getting up one day and dpoing a half marathon, just because. I remember running, and running, up and down the Sheffield inclines. And it was great and I was great. I can almost hear the soundtrack.

So now when I run, and I am staggering around and I don't have quite the mental focus that I once possessed, I get disillusioned. When I realised that I have just walked the stretch I planned on running.... I am not impressed.
But hey those days were Jo B.C - Jo Before Children. So it doesn't matter, its a new day, a new phase. I have more valuable things to focus on.

And then I go hang out with with one of my friends, total health freak, and physiotherapist ( US - read physical therapist). And we are just shooting the breeze and I am saying how you know I am getting fit again, but I am not where I used to be its OK, etc, and I can't expect to have the "Jo B.C" body and that's fine and all that..."Of course you can" she interrupts.You can?
"Yes - obviously its harder work and will take more time, but there's absolutely reason why you can't weigh what you did before...."

I heard nothing else. All I can see before me is a gauntlet laid down on the ground. At my feet. And its smilling and winking at me. I can't help but smile back. It would be rude not to.

There are some things you probably shouldn't say to a recovering overachiever.

Convenient Lies

First there was the weight gain "discovery".I had a routine blood test the other day and the results revealed that my bad cholesterol is high. Not so high that there is the need for panic. But high enough for my ears to tune inwhenever foods or medical commercials promise to lower your cholesterol levels.
It's kind of annoying, and humbling. Though I am not sure why. I've been passive with my health and my habits and I've been fine. Now I realise I will have to be more proactive.

"You have to check out the foods you eat" said my personal trainer/neighbor/go for a coffee woman/ friend Josee. "Are you eating lots of food that is high in fat?"
I didn't want to answer. The woman has already been attackng my carbs. If the fatty stuff was to go to - what kind of culinary life was left?
"Erm, I don't know". A lie.
I've noticed that I find it very easy to lie when it comes to my diet, or general health. Even to doctors, or health professionals who have test results - THE TRUTH - sitting in front of both of us. Even though they know, and I know they know. I'm in the doctor's office for crying out loud. Lovely though they are, I'm not their just to hang out.Nonetheless, somehow utter foolishness comes out of my mouth.
Are you eating a lot ? "No?"
(only when I am tired, bored, hungry, peckish, got the munchies, fancy a snack, or when its meal time)
Are you taking your calcium tablets/multivitamins?
Sometimes. (That'll be never)
Do you have a lot of fatty foods?
"I don't think so"
(Nothing I want you to take away from me)
But Josee is a pro, and has heard every excuse in the book. She listed a few things that might be in my diet and suggested I cut them down. Gutted. I was caught out.
"And how is the portion size going?"

Apparently size IS everything. If I cut down the amount I eat, I lose the preggy weight. Sounds simple.But not easy. I select a smaller plate and resist the temptation to pile it up to high heaven (with very healthy food, obviously)But I've had to admit that it the extra pounds won't leave me by asking nicely. Its time for altogether more radical action.

Honesty!Seems like this getting back into shape is sorting me out inside and out.

Everybody walk the dinosaur...

Tia has got into Barney, the purple friendly T- Rex, that inspires the imagination, and teaches the little children how to share and have fun...etc

It took me awhile to get into the idea though.

Firstly he's a purple T Rex for pete's sake. With a green belly. I know kids TV requires reality suspension, but it was a bit of a stretch even for me. And I didn't like his voice.Petty prejudices I know, but I just couldn't help it.

However I realised that once I could get past the purple dino with the schmaltzy songs, there was one other problem. Barney and his dino posse are accompanied by these children. They sing with them, talk with them, hug Barney etc .

Its not the inevitable precociousness of these kids that makes me so uncomfortable, the acting and the saccharine smiling. There's more to it than that.

I was thinking of the Mickey Mouse Club and the stars it produced from all the kids on the show. From the boys you have Justin Timberlake and Ryan Gosling - and the people they turned down like Matt Damon. But then you look at the girls and you've got Christina Aguilera and erm.. Britney Spears. So when I look at the girls on Barney, I can't help but wonder who is going to be getting "Dirrrty" or singing "Hit me Baby one more time". Or shaving their heads and having meltdowns. It makes for very disconcerting viewing.

Suddenly Tia giving all the love and attention to Barney instead of the kids on the show is not such a bad thing after all.