The potty, I feel, will be a long drama of peeing and pooing and frustration. I am sure there will be many rant filled posts and wine filled nights to assist me through this process. So instead let's talk focus on something sunny - Princesses.
I don't really have that much of a problem with Disney Princesses. I know that there are all sorts of negative messages hidden in Disney stories that intellectual feminists can dissect to prove the destruction of positive girl self-image.
For example, my friend Sharon can't stand The Little Mermaid - she points out that Ariel literally gives up her voice to get her man - what kind of message does that send to little girls? Sure I see Sharon's point, but I also know that I wouldn't mind having Ariel's kicking waist line or mane of red hair, and darn, that girl can sing. Shallow of me? Yes.
So fine, there are negative messages, but I think there are some that could be skewed as positive too.
Seriously, Addie loves The Little Mermaid. She sings the songs, she dances, she cheers Ariel on. And why shouldn't she cheer her on? Ariel is curious and adventurous. She has a love of learning about new things. She has no problem with exploring creepy, sunken ships or with brazenly going to the surface. Sure, she defies her father, but what little girl doesn't on ocassion?
Addie also loves Cinderella. What's not to love about Cinderella? She's an animal lover. She's a hard worker. She can sing beautifully and she doesn't have a mean bone in her tiny size zero body.
And Belle? Oh, Belle is the bomb. She is loyal and brave. She loves books and turns her back on sleazy men. She's willing to look beyond the physical appearance of people and see their inner goodness. She adores her Daddy and doesn't need a prince to save her.
Snow White might be a little dim witted, but that girl quickly figured out how to get seven men to bend to her will and wait on her hand and foot. That's quite a skill.
With Addie's love of princesses comes her love to dress like a princess - tiara, tutus, princess heels, sash, wand, jewels - the whole she-bang. Lately, she's been insisting that her tutu is a part of just about every outfit. Yesterday, while I was on the phone with Gramma Kathy she walked proudly into my room in this get-up:
Yes, she's wearing a tutu on her head. Yes, she's wearing her pink flowery tutu over her Tinkerbelle dress. Yes, she's wearing her yellow Belle princess heels. Yes, she's feeling confident and in control.
I laughed so hard that I cried. Actual tears, dripping off my face. She was so proud of her outfit, she practically pranced into my room. She spun in circles and curtsied and took a bow. She was regal, and silly, and sassy.
So while my college-era feminist self isn't the biggest fan of the princesses, my mother of a two-year-old self has no problem with it.
I know that she and I talk about not just how cute she is, but how smart she is. Not just how pretty her skirts are, but how fun her sneakers are. I know that she loves her tutus and adores her tool sets. She likes playing the princess, but she also wants to kick a soccer ball.
My mother of a two-year-old self knows that those princesses aren't raising her, her father and I are.
And we, on occasion, feel like we're doing a pretty good job.