In Defense of the Pink Princesses

"A DOZEN," my friend ranted to me in a phone conversation in 2011, "There were literally 12 girls at this meeting and every one of them was completely swathed in pink from head to toe!". My friend had attended a La Leche League meeting with her nursing toddler son and was unable to fathom why every woman at the meeting had insisted on dressing her daughter in hues of pepto bismol. My own daughter frequently wore pink, but she had plenty of other colors as well, and I didn't have any particular vendetta against pink, so I had a hard time commiserating with my friend in her irritation. That was my first encounter with the princess opposition as a parent, but it wouldn't be my last.

Unless you've been hiding in a cave somewhere with cotton balls jammed in your ear singing "Row Row Row Your Boat", you'll know that our society is experiencing something of a surge in the gender equality movement. The pay gap is in the papers, there are (currently) three women on the Supreme Court, and it's just basically a really good time to be a woman, compared to other points in history. And that's great! As a woman, raising two future women, I am very happy about this.

Here's the problem though. In all the advocating we did to make sure that everyone is treated equally, we've begun to scorn things that are traditionally female. I bought Bella a book for Christmas without reading it first, called "Olivia and the Fairy Princesses" thinking "My daughter loves fairy princesses, she will love this book!" But it turns out that, in the book, the main character, Olivia, is complaining to her parents about how everyone wants to be a fairy princess, and how annoying that is to her. Olivia marches to the beat of her own drum, and that's awesome, and I do believe it's important to teach children that it's okay to like different things than what the crowds like. But I also think it's important to let kids know that they should be themselves even if what they enjoy is mainstream or traditional. If we are teaching our children to be genuinely themselves, then those things are okay too.

Olivia is not the one who upset me though, she's just a mirror of what society is echoing these days. I think we (historically) spent so long in the "different is bad" phase that we have done a complete 180 and have asserted that not only is different good, but conformity is bad. This is a false dichotomy. The unique and the mainstream can both be good. Just because one thing is good, does not mean its counterpart is necessarily bad.

Around Christmas time this year I posted a picture of my daughters in their room. We had purchased them their own artificial christmas tree (that they picked out). It was pink. Inside their room (which is painted pink), it practically glowed in an admittedly eye-straining way. Rather than commenting on the girls' obvious delight, or even criticizing me for the overindulgence of buying them their own Christmas tree, I was taken aback by all the snarky comments from friends and family, which essentially amounted to disapproval over the vast quantities of pink in their room. I bristled at this because the point of the post wasn't to ask my Facebook friends what they thought of my daughters' room decor, it was to show off how happy they were with their very own Christmas tree. Yes, it was pink. Yes, the decorations were silver disco balls. Yes, it looked like overkill in that pink room. BUT, The girls picked these out themselves. In fact, I had to curb their shopping impulses because they wanted to buy pretty much everything in the store that was either pink, white or silver.

Today I encountered an NPR book review on my Facebook newsfeed touting the comic, "I Hate Fairyland". It sounds funny, really. But it's hard to laugh when the comments are echoing the same sentiment I hear on my newsfeed almost daily, filled with disdain for the traditionally feminine.

On one hand, it's true that traditional feminine rolls in our society tend to subjugate women and relegate them to the kitchen or the bedroom where they're not allowed to have opinions for fear of being called a bitch, and they're not allowed to have jobs outside the home for fear of being called an unfit mother. These are real struggles that women face, even now. And those complaints are legitimate. It's hard to maintain a family and a job as a woman. Your motives are constantly questioned, you're put under a microscope and interrogated about how you plan to balance your work and your family, yet men are so rarely asked the same questions.

At the same time though, I have heard women complain that they feel like they're being looked down upon because they choose to stay home with their children. They are told, by other women no less, that the women's liberation movement fought for their right to work and dammit they should be working to set an example of a strong woman for their children. But, isn't the point of Feminism to give women a choice about what they want to do? If we're forcing women to work via societal shaming, isn't that just as bad as forcing women to stay home? Either way, a choice is taken from the woman and put to society.

There is also the quandary that, in asserting that women are just as good as men, while simultaneously eschewing anything traditionally feminine in favor of the traditionally masculine, are we not stating with our actions that men and masculinity are superior? Why are we wearing pants suits instead of encouraging men to wear skirts? Could it be because we also associate femininity with weakness? If so, doesn't that make us just as misogynistic? True feminism should celebrate femininity as its own strength, not ridicule it as something lesser.

I was born in 1983, and I recall, growing up, feeling pressured to be "unique". I came to believe that if I liked pink, like all the other little girls did, then that meant that I wasn't special. This isn't something my parents forced on me, it was a message I heard loud and clear from teachers, television shows and peers. I'm willing to admit that part of this was the influence of society, and the other part was my own stubborn refusal to be a stereotype. There were "boy" things that I liked without anyone shaming me into it, of course. I liked Thomas the Train when I was very little, and later on I got really into Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Heroes in a half-shell! Turtle power!) and I loved legos before they were pink. However, I also pretended to enjoy things I really didn't like, and to not enjoy things I really did, because I felt that I shouldn't act too girly.

I recall that in third grade, as a beginning of the year icebreaker, the teacher asked all the kids to state their name, birthday and what foreign place they wanted to visit. The boys had varying responses like Japan or Egypt, I think one boy even said Antarctica.

Every single girl answered "Paris".

As the teacher got to me I began to panic because, while I did want to go to Paris one day, I didn't want to give the same answer all the other girls gave. So I said Czechoslovakia. And that just about sums up my social skills. But I digress.

Even as a third grader I knew that these girls wanted to go to Paris because they found it to be romantic, and the idea that that's why I should want to go somewhere sort of disgusted me, even though I wanted to go there too. I was repressing those traditionally feminine urges myself. I was probably 26 years old and mother to a daughter before I finally began to embrace my traditionally feminine side. I allowed myself to admit I love pink, and to wear and buy things just because they were pink and just because I like pink, dammit. Not that I didn't wear and buy pink things before, it's just that I would have made excuses for it or said that it was because that's what's in style, and not because I actually like it.

Why do we repress these feelings? Of course it's great to let girls know that they don't have to like traditionally girly things, but why do we scorn those who do, and insist that these children have had gender norms thrust upon them by a misogynistic society or over restrictive parents? Is it impossible to believe that cis-gendered little girls are going to like traditionally feminine things? If we allow boys to like My Little Pony, why do we disdain girls who enjoy pink and want to dress up as princesses? Are both choices not valid?

My husband and I had very different ideas about how to decorate my oldest daughter's room when she was a baby. We literally had a fight in the middle of the paint aisle at Home Depot over what to paint the accent wall in Bella's room. We ended up choosing green, and bought pink and brown polka dots stickers to decorate it. My husband was totally against solid pink. He didn't want her to have pink bouncers or pink play gyms, so we bought the unisex jungle line from Fisher Price. He didn't want a pink diaper bag, so the first one was Winnie the Pooh, and when that one wore out, we replaced it with a brown and green Gerber bag.

Bella's original decor

When we decided to redecorate her room the first time, we took down the polka dots (because she had been peeling them off anyway) and I painted a tree on the green wall. We put a sun-shaped light in her room, put a river and forest rug on the floor, and turned an Ikea Kura bed into a cottage house bed with a working door that she could go inside and play. We did all this, initially, to encourage her to sleep in her bedroom. We kept her out of her room for a week, and revealed it to her as a surprise on her third birthday. She loved playing in there, but she never slept in there. She still slept on a mattress on the floor of our bedroom.

Bella's "House bed" as she called it.

Imagine if it had been a boy, and I had declared the color blue to be a taboo nursery color. If that seems ridiculous, but the idea of limiting the pink doesn't seem ridiculous, then you might be adhering to a double standard. I have read lots of articles about "princess syndrome" in girls, yet nary a one about "baseball syndrome" or "cowboy syndrome" for boys. Why is that, I wonder? (she wrote, sarcastically).

Bella had this set up until she was almost five. At that point I put my foot down and insisted to my husband that I should be allowed to decorate her room. I did this with his acquiescence but not his approval. I hosted a garage sale by myself and raised the money to purchase new paint and furnishings for her room. I painted the walls pink with a glitter topcoat, I painted her furniture white and bought all new princess themed accents. Because we'd made the surprise mistake with her before, I made sure to ask if she wanted a pink princess room before embarking on this quest, she assured me she wanted nothing more. It was such a success that my husband purchased a chandelier for the room even though I had no money in my budget left for one. He conceded defeat when she began sleeping in there, and she has slept in there since then. (Until recently, that is. She started having nightmares after a classmate told her all about kissing bugs, and now she's back on the mattress in our bedroom. Thanks, random kid.)

Bella's princess room

The point is, my daughter loves pink. She loves glitter, she loves ruffles. She loves bows and  princesses and ball gowns and fairies and unicorns and mermaids. At my husband's insistence, we did our best not to oversaturate her with pink as an infant, and yet, she still loves it, gravitates toward it and prefers it both in decorating and fashion. I'm supposed to tell her this is wrong? I should stifle this? Why? Because it's mainstream? Because someone totally unrelated to her, who doesn't know her well doesn't approve? How exactly is a pink obsession going to oppress her later in life? It won't. She will learn that it's okay to be exactly the way she wants to be, even if she's not bucking the system. She will learn that she doesn't have to repress her traditionally female urges just because they're mainstream. She will learn to just be herself without shame. If she wasn't traditional, I would still love her just as much, and would still fill her bedroom with things she likes.

Repairing Glitter Shoes With Nail Polish

Buying new shoes for a kid once every six months can be tough, especially if the reason you're buying them isn't because said child grew out of her shoes, but because all the glitter came off and now, in the words of my mother, the shoes need a good throwing away.

I get so frustrated with the quality of products these days, but I wasn't raised to be wasteful, and if I can fix something rather than replace it, I do. Interestingly enough, I got the idea to repair my children's shoes with nail polish from the book Little Women. In the book the family goes through a tough time financially, and rather than be shamed in front of her peers, one of the daughters paints her old shoes so they look new again. Given that nail polish is essentially paint, and I have a whole lot of it, I decided to try this trick with my daughter's glitterless yet still wearable shoes. 

I've done this a lot already, usually with solid colored shoes, but the ones I tackled today were easily the most desiccated and most colorful, thereby making them the most complicated to repair. Nonetheless, I want to share the process with you, incase, like me, you're a total tightwad.

Prep: Gather all your supplies so you don't have to keep getting up. 

I used rubbing alcohol, cotton balls, Q-tips, hair cutting scissors, super glue, a paper plate (to catch drips) and TONS of nail polish. I use the cheapest I can find, and I never go buy any just for this project, I just have an enormous hoarde. But if you had to, some brands are much cheaper than new shoes.

I did this project at my dining room table because I have done it a lot before and am very experienced, but I would recommend either sitting on a tile floor or at a stone countertop for your first go, because nail polish does not come out of wood finish, and nail polish remover has the same effect as paint thinner, and you don't want a big raw spot in the middle of your table. Worst case scenario if all you have is carpet and wood, sit outside or use tons of newspaper to cover your indoor workspace.

Step 1: Make necessary repairs.

If the shoes have lost their luster, chances are they need some other repairs. This is where the super glue comes in. I use the gel kind so it doesn't drop all over the place, but I still end up getting it on my hands every time, so if you have sensitive skin you might want to use rubber gloves. I put the glue in the gap between the sole and the shoe upper and just hold it there for about a minute until it sticks by itself.

Step 2: Give the shoes a haircut.

Along with loss of glitter, you might notice these annoying little strings that pop up along the seams of the shoes. RESIST THE URGE TO PULL THEM. They do NOT stop unraveling. Instead, grab some nail scissors or hair cutting scissors and give the shoes a little trim wherever you see loose threads. Make sure to clean the scissors with alcohol afterwards, you don't want shoe bacteria in your hair or nails.

Step 3: Clean any dirt you see.

These shoes have a little Hello Kitty head on the toe, and she had seen better days. I used rubbing alcohol on a cotton ball to clean her.

Step 4: Paint over white spots.

This step isn't always necessary, but if the shoes are so scuffed that there is absolutely no glitter at all in some spots, it's best to use a solid paint color that is similar to the glitter color so you don't have to use tons of coats of polish to cover it. On these shoes I used fast drying matte neon pink as the base paint.

Step 5: Glitter it up, baby!

This was the longest part of the process for me. These shoes were a combination of pink, purple, and red glitter, and they were the large grain glitter, not the fine glitter, so I had to dig deep into my admittedly enormous hoard of nail polish to find the right colors. You have to wait for it to dry between each coat, too.

Step 6: Details.

Not all shoes have this, but these Hello Kitty slippers have a faux leather hem around the top and some on the toe, and I didn't have the exact shade so I had to be creative and mix two colors. I mixed them on my paper plate, using the brush from the darker color to mix. When I was finished, I wiped as much of it off on the plate as possible before putting it back into the jar.

Make sure to let the shoes dry overnight before your child wears them!

The final result is below. The shoes turned out a little darker shade of pink than they started out, and they don't look perfect, obviously, but they do look a lot better, and they'll last her until school lets out at least.

Why I Will Never Again Purchase Any Pfaltzgraff Product

My husband and I purchased two boxes of Pfaltzgraff "Taos" dishes in 2011 from Kohl's. It took us several years to notice that some of the dishes were not, in fact, microwave and dishwasher safe. I found this out slowly because sometimes the dishes would go through the microwave and dishwasher just fine, and sometimes they would burn my hand after being in the microwave, or come apart in my hands as I removed them from the dishwasher. For example, I sustained a blister on my index finger from grabbing a plate that had been in the microwave for 120 seconds (two minutes) at half power.

The back of the plate where the dish that is cracking from the middle
outward claims to be microwave and dishwasher safe.

In 2015 a plate broke in half as I was taking it out of the dishwasher. I don't mean it fell from my hands and shattered on the floor. I mean I reached down in the dishwasher, grabbed it, and half of it came up in my hand, while the other half remained sitting in the dishwasher. Later, a mug handle broke off the same exact way. When I examined the break, it's a clean break that fits right back together. It was then that I began noticing that some of the dishes were cracking from the middle outward. It wasn't happening with all of them though. I surmised that one box of the dishes that we bought was microwave and dishwasher safe, and one wasn't. 

On the left is one plate that is beginning to crack from the middle outward, on the right is a closeup. The crack looks vertical, but actually it's emanating outward in an X shaped pattern, but the intersecting crack does not show up well in pictures.

I took these concerns via email to Pfaltzgraff immediately, noting the differences in quality and the burns I had sustained from removing some of the dishes from the microwave, and made sure to include pictures of the cracking plates. I never got any response. I continuously checked my junk mail to make sure it hadn't been marked as spam, and sure enough, nothing. I then took to twitter and again received no response. Finally, after stating my concerns on Facebook I got a canned response that was identical to every other person's Facebook complaint, "Hi (name), we're sorry for your experience and want to make this right. Please call us at 1-800-999-2811."

I couldn't find my exact post, but you can go to the Pfaltzgraff Facebook page by clicking through the post below. The response they left Sara Ann is exactly the same as they left me. Also, have fun scrolling through the scores of other dissatisfied customers with similar horror stories about so-called "microwave and dishwasher safe" products including rusty flatware and plates with completely cracked finishes and mug handles that come off in your hands.

Hello Pfaltzgraff.I received one of your flatware sets awhile back and recently broke it out to use them in my new...
Posted by Sara Ann on Wednesday, November 18, 2015

It took me from November until now (February) to make the time to call them. (Why do they have other customer service outlets if they are just going to force everyone to call?) After spending a significant amount of time on hold (seriously, I literally had time to clean out my closet while listening to their godawful hold music) I spoke to a very pleasant and determinedly unhelpful representative who informed me that because the dishes were five years old, the only recompense they would offer is 30% off replacement dishes. So, no, they really don't care to make it right, despite what the social media intern is stating on every single complaint.

This mug handle cracked cleanly at the top and bottom and came off
in my hands as I went to take it out of the dishwasher. 

I was particularly not impressed with the offer of thirty percent off dishes that may or may not be microwave and dishwasher safe. I asked her if five years is the standard lifetime of Pfaltzgraff dishes and she said no, but since no one else had had problems with this line (seriously, no one?) they wouldn't be offering me anything more than that. I said no thank you, I think I would rather just resolve to never again purchase Pfaltzgraff brand dishes than to spend more money on dishes that might burn me or fall apart upon being removed from the dishwasher. She didn't offer to let me speak to anyone else, she made no excuses and basically said, I'm sorry, that's all I can do.

This is the same mug as in the above photo showing how the handle is completely broken off, but cleanly, because the ceramic split before the handle came off.

What did I expect? Honestly? If it were my company and someone contacted me with this issue, I would ask the dishes to be sent back to me so I could test them, and then I would send them two new boxes of thoroughly tested new dishes. The manufacturing stamp on the back says "China" and we all know the level of quality of the products produced in China. It seems clear to me that one of their factories was using inferior materials. 

I will be pursuing the possibility of making a complaint with the office of the Attorney General, the Better Business Bureau and the Federal Trade Commission, since it seems obvious to me that Pfaltzgraff is selling products that are not what they claim to be and in fact could be injurious (through burns sustained and cuts from broken dishes). This surely constitutes some sort of fraud. I will be certain no Pfaltzgraff dishes ever end up in my house again, and I hope you will think twice about spending your hard earned money on a product that used to be a very good quality brand name. 

Kesha, Did I Misjudge You?

I wrote a blog about Ke$ha (does she still stylize her name that way?) in 2013 I wrote a blog about how much I really didn't like her music, mostly based on the flippant attitude toward sexuality that she took in virtually every song. As a mom of girls, I'm constantly aware that pop culture icons can have a big impact on my kids, so I choose to limit their exposure to things that I think could be detrimental to their self-image or their development into strong, intelligent, discerning women of character. Kesha, I determined, was the antithesis to everything I wanted my girls to be.

no woman should have to go through this #FreeKesha pic.twitter.com/4MBXG7sC3h

— Houssein (@CheekyHoussein) February 19, 2016

Shortly after that she sort of faded from the forefront of the music scene, and I just assumed she must be taking a break to enjoy her wealth, since I hadn't heard of any unsuccessful albums being dropped. Turns out I was wrong about that. I read an article on Mashable that revealed that Kesha has been in a legal battle to get out of her contract with her producer "Dr. Luke" (who presumably received his doctorate from the same institution as Dr. Dre). Kesha alleged in court that Dr. Luke had been sexually harassing her, assaulting her and threatening her since he brought her to fame out of obscurity at the age of 18. (She is now 28).

Astonishingly, the courts upheld her contract and are forcing her to continue to work with and for her alleged abuser to make six more albums. Dr. Luke countersued for defamation of character, stating that this whole thing is a charade to get out of her recording contracts.

This is a tough case. On one hand, as a woman, I never want to disbelieve another woman when she says she has been abused or raped. I am inclined to immediately believe and want to offer help. On the other hand, artists making false allegations and suing to get out of unprofitable contracts is not unheard of in the recording industry. Another thing that is not unheard of in the recording industry though, is older, powerful men taking advantage of young women who desperately want to be famous and will put up with a lot of crap for it.

I am pretty sure Kesha is telling the truth on this one for the main reason that she's not seeking money in the suit, just dissolution of contract, and was even willing to work with another producer within the Sony record label. It's hard to look at those things and still think this is all about money.

Now, based on my previous blog, you might think that this is where I start finger wagging and saying that Kesha's loose morals is what led her to this situation. No. No. No. No victim blaming. It doesn't matter if she walked around mostly naked like Miley Cyrus, or slept with a million men, no one deserves to be raped, abused or made to feel worthless. I feel horrible for Kesha, and I wonder what kind of music she would make if she were not being hindered by a toxic relationship with her producer. Whatever kind of music she makes after escaping the clutches of this man, I still might not like or approve of it. But my taste in music notwithstanding, she deserves a chance to be unhindered by an abusive producer.

You can read more details about the lawsuit on Rolling Stone.

Accidental Omelettes and Other Mom Recipes You Didn't Know You Could Make

I don't know about you, but being a mom has totally changed my perspective on cooking. Whereas cooking was once a strange mysterious process that basically eluded me, it's now a total breeze. In fact, as a mom, there are some recipes that basically don't take any skill as a cook at all. These recipes practically make themselves, and as an added bonus, they contain a lot of unintentional cardio. Here are three of my favorite mom recipes.

Accidental OmelettesThese are a godsend for a hungry mom who doesn't mind eating her child's breakfast while the child rummages in the pantry for the sugariest, most processed food she can find.

Ingredients:

• 1/2 Tablespoon butter
• 1 Egg
• 1 Tablespoon milk
• Dash of salt

Instructions:

• Intend to make scrambled eggs for your child. She needs lots of protein and far less sugar and she'll actually eat scrambled eggs.
• Heat the skillet to medium.
• Begin the normal process of making scrambled eggs (melt the butter in the skillet, scramble the egg, milk and salt in a bowl).
• Pour egg mixture into hot skillet.
• Hear crying from across the house.
• Go attend a boo boo.
• Run back and turn off the heat so you don't burn the house down.
• Completely forget about eggs.
• Feed sniffling child a pop tart.
• Return 5 minutes later to find scrambled eggs have turned into an omelette in the bottom of the pan.
• Fold.
• Eat.

Evaporated Water

This is by far the easiest mom recipe. If you can boil water, you can make this.

Image via The Kitchn

Ingredients:

• Pot
• Water 

Instructions:

• Get out box of Kraft macaroni for dinner.
• Fill pot with the required six cups of water.
• Without measuring, because let's be honest, you have been making this since like junior high.
• Set heat to high.
• Child shows up.
• Child says something super cute.
• Get into a game of tickle chase with child.
• Child runs into dining room table, bonks head, cries.
• Auditorily hallucinate your mother's voice saying "NO RUNNING IN THE HOUSE, ELIZABETH!".
• Realize you're a failure as a mother.
• Cry.
• Get boo boo bunny.
• Turn on Caillou.
• Cuddle.
• Suddenly remember pot.
• Run to turn off burner.
• Douse molten pot in cold water in sink.
• Praise Jesus that you didn't burn the house down.
• Attend to the burn you've just sustained from grabbing the pot handle.
• Order pizza.

Charbroiled Chocolate Chip Cookies (and I helped!)
This recipe is perfect for someone who wants to practice the mixing process of baking, but not the actual baking process of baking. It's also great if you're on a diet, because you end up with half the edible cookies you intended to. This is the Nestle Tollhouse Chocolate Chip Cookie recipe, but it's really the process that's important, so you can substitute your own recipe if you so please.

Image via Limerick's Blog

Ingredients:

• 2 1/4 cups flour
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1 cup butter
• 3/4 cup sugar
• 3/4 cup brown sugar
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 2  large eggs
• 2 cups chocolate chips

Instructions:

• Preheat the oven to 375.
• Cream together butter and sugars.
• Child hears mixer and runs into kitchen.
• Child says, "You makin' COOKIES?!".
• Allow child to pour vanilla (after you measure it, you're not making that mistake again).
• Beat in first egg while child cries "*I* wanted to crack the eggs!".
• Allow child to crack second egg.
• Pick egg shell out of batter.
• Measure out flour.
• Allow child to pour flour into separate bowl.
• Clean spilled flour off counter top, try to eyeball the amount and add to the bowl.
• Measure baking soda and salt, allow child to pour into dry ingredient bowl.
• Get out a whisk to mix dry ingredients.
• Allow child to mix dry ingredients.
• Child mixes dry ingredients as if her arm was a helicopter rotor.
• Clean dry ingredients off counter top, pray that no baking soda was lost.
• Mix dry ingredients into wet ingredients, allowing child to pour one cup of dry ingredients at a time into the bowl.
• Clean dry ingredients off counter top.
• Add chocolate chips and mix.
• Grease the pan even though it says not to because I DO WHAT I WANT.
• Drop rounded spoonfuls of cookie dough onto pan.
• Try in vain to stop child from eating raw dough.
• Chase child around kitchen to get spoon back.
• Turn on Barney.
• Go back to cookies, finish spooning out one panful, there will be more dough left in the bowl.
• Put cookies in to bake.
• Forget to set timer.
• Check Facebook.
• Bring child to potty.
• Argue with child about how much toilet paper should be used.
• Refuse to allow child to leave bathroom without washing her hands.
• Suddenly remember cookies when smoke alarm goes off.
• Bring pan of charbroiled cookies outside on the sidewalk to cool.
• Open all the windows and try to wave the smoke away from the smoke detector.
• Peel nutcase dog down from ceiling fan.
• Open fridge, look longingly at the bottle of wine.
• Realize you're the only adult in the house and close the fridge.
• After cooling, scrape charbroiled cookies into the trash
• Calm down crying child who really wanted a black cookie.
• Bake remaining dough.
• Remember to set the damn timer this time for 9 to 11 minutes.