Free To Be You and Me, Within Reason

There has never been any love lost between me and princesses.  As a little girl, I was a tomboy, spending most my time in dirt or on horseback.  I never played dress-up and I never understood the appeal of Barbie.  I did not dream of being Cinderella and never once donned a tiara for Halloween.

Of course, this was not part of some well-developed, pre-school feminist agenda.  Princesses and their ilk just weren’t my thing.  Like football wasn’t my thing, or lima beans.

But by the time I had my own daughters, my feelings about princesses had hardened into something a tad more complex.  Suffice it to say, that I wanted my daughters focused on saving themselves, not on waiting for a rescue.

Even now, some mellowing years later, I stand by that view as a philosophical premise.  My execution, however, may have left something to be desired, at least in the early years.  Let’s just say, it did once culminate in me refusing to allow my then four-year-old to have the Ariel-themed birthday party she so desperately wanted.  Instead, I foisted Supergirl on her.  And I’m still not even sure that’s a real actual character.

Unsurprisingly, perhaps, her burgeoning interest in princesses vanished shortly after that.  And I emerged victorious.

For about five seconds.

At which point, my daughter discovered Hannah Montana, years earlier than her peers who were, you guessed it, still all into princesses.   It became routine for other mothers to ask how she’d gotten interested in a tween icon at, “such a very young age.”  Yes, it was a very proud time for me indeed.

Taking a lesson from the beloved children’s book Ferdinand, a recent piece on the Motherlode Blog by Gretchen Rubin argues that one of the greatest challenges and responsibilities of parenting is to allow children to be themselves.

Past bad behavior notwithstanding, I agree with Gretchen (and with Ferdinand’s mom) that it’s crucial that we as parents accept our children as they are, for who they are, no matter how hard we have to bite our tongues.  We must do this so that our children can one day, hopefully, learn to accept themselves.

Now, if I happen, in the meantime, to permanently “misplace” a Barbie or two, I might just have to accept that of myself.  After all, I’m a work in progress too.