Tag Archive | children

Why a newspaper “Ethics” columnist thinks 7 year-olds in competitive dance are akin to sex workers.

Good news, everyone! I’ve decided to feature an occasional anonymous feminist advice column. Please feel free to send along your submissions and tell your friends!

Dear Sylvia,

I just read this article in an online newspaper, and it left me deeply troubled. It called itself an “ethics column” but really seemed much more like a “patriarchy judge-o-matic.”

A concerned party wrote in with a question about a 7 year-old girl involved in competitive dance; apparently this person’s colleague showed him/her a photo of the colleague’s daughter in dance competition costume. Rather than respond with a socially acceptable, “That’s nice,” the letter-writer, judging that in his/her opinion, the girl in the photo was made up to look like a sex-worker, said something along the lines of, “Hey, I don’t know much about you or your family, but based on this single picture of your daughter about which you were obviously excited enough to show me, a work colleague whom you clearly don’t know all that well or you might have expected such a tirade, but I feel that your parenting skills are inadequate, your judgement is lacking, and if left unchecked, your daughter will probably grow up to be a whore. You should be ashamed.” Continue reading →

Sometimes the universe nudges you onto the ‘write’ path

Jul10

I haven’t really said much about this yet – maybe because I’m still not totally sure it’s actually true – or maybe because there just haven’t been enough hours in the day (damn you, mesmerizing Facebook newsfeed) – but I have a new job! And when I say, “New,” I mean I’ve been doing it for over 6 months now (HOLY CRAP, I just counted that out!).

Why yes, this is a gratuitous smokin’ hot firemen picture. Why, do you ask? Read on…

I was never, ever going to be a writer. Never. I was going to be a doctor very briefly, until I realized that doctoring was the reason my mom didn’t get home until 8:00 every night.

I probably entertained some vague thoughts of geology or mining engineering, but those were quelled by the 3-foot tall poison ivy my dad casually pointed out on a field trip to look at interesting rocks (“Yep. Right over there by those rocks. No, not those rocks. The other ones. No, the ones to the left. Nope, not those. Even more left.”). Kid2 intends to carry on that proud family tradition by pursuing a career as a rock scientist who’s also a fairy princess and possibly Katy Perry. Note to self: Purchase stock in calamine lotion.

From a long time I was going to be a marine biologist, until I learned that I could never get a scuba licence because of my asthma. “Glub,” went that dream down the drain.

After that I went to school to be a kindergarten teacher until I realized that I can’t stand kids. (Not your kids though. They’re great. Really).

I toyed for a while between social worker and professional barista, which, when you think about it, are pretty similar: You talk people through their problems, figure out what they need to make it through the day, and help them get it. And you make about the same amount of money. Frankly, the only real difference is the quality of the coffee.

Now that I think about it I may have made the wrong choice.

But writing? Never even crossed my mind. Writing was just something you did because you had to, you know, because the filter basket on your coffee-maker is broken and the company wants you to pay for a replacement. Or because your professors look at you funny if you present a research project in interpretive dance. It just happened that when I put words to paper or computer screen, I generally did get my free replacement or reasonably good grade (The same cannot be said re: interpretive dance; never earned me anything but awkwardly averted gazes. Philistines.).

Then I decided to put off going back to school after Kids 1 and 2 were born and started this blog out of sheer peer pressure – people on Facebook kept saying, “You should start a blog,” so finally I did, and then I said, “OKAY FINE I STARTED A BLOG!!! ARE YOU ALL HAPPY NOW??? WILL YOU STOP BUGGING ME ABOUT IT?? GOD!!” which, now that I think about it, would be AWESOME through interpretive dance. *GASP* I HAVE A IDEA!! Challenge issued: Get me to 1000 Facebook followers, and I will post a video. And GO!

Anyway, I started a blog, realized I was writing when I didn’t actually have to and kind of liked it, and people were reading it and I kind of liked that too. Yada yada yada (that’s for Ian and all of you other weird folks who enjoy that awful show that makes me want to stab myself in the earsdrums Seinfeld) was serendipitously offered a job writing for a marketing agency.

Perks of said job include getting paid to do something I’ve discovered I love, stretching my creative muscles, not just writing but also photography and interviewing, and getting up close and personal with smokin’ hot firemen. It’s a tough job, but somebody’s got to do it!

Smokin’ hot firemen group shot.

I guess what I’ve realized from this journey is that sometimes, even if you think you have a handle on exactly what you want, the universe comes along and gives you a little nudge onto the right path.

~ karyn

Sometimes, even if you think you have a handle on exactly what you want, the universe comes along and gives you a little nudge onto the right path. ~ www.picklesINK.com

Sometimes the universe gives you a little nudge onto the right path.

Stranger Danger

Apr28

We had a child luring attempt in our small town recently, which is of course terrifying. I haven’t done much talking to Kids 1 and 2 so far about stranger danger, for a number of reasons.

Kid1 has a tendency to be very anxious. Last year one of his school friends told him about “strangers” and he went into an anxiety tailspin for days. Often once he starts thinking about something scary he’ll continue to worry about it no matter how remote or even completely impossible the threat is:

Kid1: “I looked at that picture in my bug book and now I’m afraid of scorpions.”

Me: “There are no scorpions in Canada.”

Kid1: “I know. But I’m still scared that one will sting me.”

Me: “But there aren’t any in Canada. You can’t be stung by one.”

Kid1: “I know. But what if I was? They are extremely venomous.”

Me: “There is absolutely no way that you could be stung by a scorpion.”

Kid1: “I know. But I’m still scared. What if I was?”

Me: “Well, you could pretend to be a giant bird that eats scorpions.”

Kid1: “Okay! …Wait, now I’m scared of the giant bird.”

Me: *headdesk*

Statistics show that “stranger danger” is blown way out of proportion. The best and most recent estimate found that 25 children of the 46,718 reported missing in 2011 were listed as “abducted by stranger” — but “stranger” was defined as anyone who was not a parent, including relatives, family friends, or babysitters as well as the eponymous “stranger.” A 2003 study by the RCMP’s National Missing Children Services studied the 90 stranger abduction missing child reports entered into the national police database in 2000 and 2001 and found that only 2 of those children had been abducted by someone other than a relative or a close family friend.

Finally, up until last summer Kid1 wouldn’t have been anywhere unsupervised where a “stranger” could approach him anyway.

But my little baby boy is growing older, moving outside of my helicopter mommy bubble, spending time playing outside with friends, and even getting ready to walk to the bus stop by himself next year (all of which feels completely, utterly ridiculous to me before I remember that at his age I was walking 4 blocks to the corner store by myself).

So with this incident happening only blocks from our house, The Conversation became a necessity – obviously because the same person could still be in the neighbourhood, but also because I anticipated it being discussed at school (by both the teachers and the other kids), and I wanted Kid1 to hear it from me first so he could ask any questions he had and process the information thoroughly.

First of all – the reality. Stranger are not particularly dangerous. Most strangers are neutral to benign, and many can be quite helpful. You are far more likely to fall victim to a random act of kindness than a kidnapping attempt. The concept of “Stranger Danger” has actually served to distract 3 generations from the statistically greater danger to children – family members, friends, and acquaintances, who are far more likely to abuse, molest, and/or kidnap them than some creepy dude in a van.

Last month’s Today’s Parent Debate was about whether or not you would leave your child alone in the car, and the Facebook post on the topic garnered heated debate.

Much of the “no” side focused on the dangers of leaving your child unattended in a car – and there are certainly dangers to doing so – but a number of the posters were adamant that there was a significant risk that someone walking by would see your children and seize the opportunity to smash a window, get in, “hotwire” the car, and drive away with your children still buckled into their carseats like a beautifully wrapped present.

Scary, sure. Realistic? No. Pedophiles don’t walk around convenience stores and gas stations rubbing their palms together and waiting for an unattended car full of children. Pedophiles befriend their neighbours’ kids. They pay extra-special attention to their nieces. They take vacations to countries where child sex trafficking is rampant. They win the “Coach of the Year Awards”. They insinuate themselves into positions of trust and authority over children, ingratiate themselves to the parents, groom the children for years before they actually start abusing them, and cultivate an atmosphere of secrecy where the children don’t realize anything is wrong until it’s too late and they know that no-one would believe them anyway.

If you want your children to be safe from the boogeymen, you have to teach them what the boogeymen really are. The boogeymen are people who make your children feel uncomfortable. They are grownups who ask children for help and tell children to keep secrets. They could be people you love very much and whom your children love very much, people your child trusts and looks up to, and people you would never dream would do “something like that.”

I therefore decided that rather than focus on “strangers” or “bad guys” I would talk to Kid1 about “grown-ups,” and what grown-ups should and shouldn’t do when it comes to kids.

So this is what I told Kid1:

“Bud, I need to talk to you about something a little bit scary. Remember when your friend told you about strangers, and made you scared about them, and I said that you didn’t need to worry about it? I need to talk to you a little more about strangers now. You know that strangers are just people you haven’t met yet, right? Most – almost all – strangers are not scary at all.

Sometimes people will tell you “never talk to strangers” but that’s not right. If you every get separated from mommy or daddy, you DEFINITELY need to talk to a stranger – good strangers to talk to are people wearing a uniform, or people who work in a store, or a mommy or daddy with kids. Those are all people who will know exactly how to help a lost child get back to his parents. And if you’re with mommy or daddy and a stranger talks to you, it’s polite to answer them, but you don’t have to have a long talk with them if you don’t want to.

Something happened this week in our town – a boy was walking home from school by himself, and a stranger stopped his car and talked to him and asked him to get into his car. That’s not okay. Grown-ups should not talk to kids who are by themselves, and they should definitely not ask kids to come with them.

That doesn’t happen very often at all, and it will probably never, ever happen to you, but just in case it ever does, it’s important to know what to do. This boy stayed safe because he knew exactly what to do – he didn’t answer the stranger and he ran away as fast as he could to a place with lots of people – back to his school – and he told a grown-up there. If a stranger ever talks to you or your friends when you aren’t with a grown-up, you don’t have to be polite. You and your friends run as fast as you can to a place where there are other people and tell a grown-up what happened.

Grown-ups should not talk to kids they don’t know unless there is another grown-up there to make the kids feel safe. Grown-ups should not ask kids for help with anything – they should ask other grown-ups. And grown-ups should not ask kids to keep secrets (surprises are different because they are not going to be kept secrets forever – only until it’s time for the surprise) or to do anything that another grown-up can’t know about.

If a grown-up ever does any of those things, your job is to tell a grown-up that you trust about it right away.”

Text reads: “The Only “Stranger Danger” Tips You Actually Need” 1. Grown-ups shouldn’t talk to kids they don’t know unless there is a grown-up you trust there. 2. Grown-ups shouldn’t ask kids for help – they should ask another grown-up. 3. Grown-ups shouldn’t ask kids to keep secrets or do anything they don’t want other grown-ups to know about. If a grown-up ever does any of those things, your job is to tell a grown-up you trust about it right away.

Kid2 listened too, and nodded sagely, though I don’t know how much of the conversation she took in. I was happy with the outcome as Kid1 asked questions, gave me the right answers when I quizzed him, and most importantly felt confident and not frightened when we finished the discussion.

~ karyn

Are you Elsa or Anna? What Frozen says about depression.

Mar19

We received our pre-ordered* copy of Frozen yesterday, and now that my kids have now watched it about 87 times, I fancy myself somewhat of an expert on the movie. Based on personal experience, I also fancy myself somewhat of an expert on depression. This post is whence the twain shall meet.

Kids 1 and 2 are overjoyed to receive their Frozen DVD

Since Frozen was released in theatres, it has been receiving quite the buzz – I’ve heard about it being an amazingly feminist movie – Disney finally redeeming itself for decades of Princess culture. I’ve heard that it’s allegory for gay pride and/or propaganda for ‘the homosexual agenda.’ I’ve heard from people who refuse to watch it until they stop hearing that goddamn song 8 times a day. I’ve heard from people who love that goddamn song so much that they sing along to it 8 times a day (*cough* me *cough*). And I’ve heard that it’s a piece of irritating garbage with half-rate singers, cheesy melodies, and the worst Princess-related story-line Disney has ever written.

My take on the movie itself? I’m a fan. I enjoyed the music and Disney’s deliberate send-up of its own patriarchal history of damsels in distress, handsome princes on white steeds, and true love at first sight. There was a cute blink-and-you-missed-it nod to diversity with a presumed 2-dad family and a neat twist on the usual moustache-twirling villain. Like so many children’s books and movies though, even with those giant leaps forward it still barely squeaked past the Bechdel test and there wasn’t a person of colour to be found (but no ethnic caricatures, so baby steps, right?).

Now we get to the part of the post about depression – the part that I start hyperventilating every time I think about writing. In so many ways…more and more each time I think about it…Frozen provides a perfect metaphor for depression. Beyond that, Frozen manages to provide dual perspectives – showing us a view of depression from both inside and out.**

Are you an Elsa or an Anna – Or maybe both?

We don’t all get literally shut away in our rooms and directed to not let anyone see how we feel, but the messages are all around us, every day:

Snap out of it. ••• Boys don’t cry. ••• Put on your big girl panties. ••• Man up. •••This too shall pass. ••• It could always be worse, right? ••• Behind the clouds, the sun is shining. ••• Every cloud has a silver lining. ••• Tomorrow is another day. ••• What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. ••• Take it like a man. ••• Don’t air your dirty laundry in public. ••• It’s all in your head. ••• Life’s not fair. ••• Time heals all wounds. ••• Into every life a little rain must fall. ••• Pull yourself together. ••• Try and think about something else. ••• Fake it till you make it. ••• Smile and the world smiles with you, cry and you cry alone.

Like Elsa, many of us with depression are expected to have our ‘moments’ in private, hiding away and telling ourselves over and over, “Don’t let it out. Don’t feel. Don’t let them see,” until we have mastered the knack of acting like regular people, at least when it matters. And when you’re depressed you want to do that anyway – it’s exhausting out there! Like Elsa shut up in her room, I had a mantra in high school – I sang Simon and Garfunkel in my head, over and over – “I am a rock. I am an island. And a rock feels no pain. And an island never cries.” I still get knots in my stomach when I hear that song or even think those words. “Don’t let it out. Don’t feel. Don’t let them see. Don’t feel. Don’t feel. Don’t feel.” Out and about, of course, you do your best to fake it – act normal, keep up with your schoolwork, get good marks; “Don’t let them in. Don’t let them see. Be the good girl you always have to be.”

When depressed, many people, myself included, engage in self-destructive behaviour, either because it gives you an outlet – a real reason, a tangible excuse for all those feels in your head that shouldn’t be there because there’s nothing really wrong, or because it can blunt those feelings, if only temporarily. Many people are also carers – If you spend all of your energy looking after the people around you, you just don’t have time or energy to think about yourself. Bonus points if they are dealing with real actual problems that are worse than your imagined ones so you can tell yourself you’re upset because you’re worried about them!

And like Elsa, for many people there comes a point when it’s just too hard to keep up that façade. Something brushes past your desperately clinging fingers, and all those emotions finally burst out. And often that’s followed by a sense of relief and calm – when you hit rock bottom, you finally have the freedom to be yourself. You don’t have to answer to anyone. You don’t have to pretend anymore. And it doesn’t matter what people think – You are perfectly okay the way you are, and they should just leave you alone and let you be. You’re not hurting anyone, right? It doesn’t concern them. You can build your ice castle up around you, shut the world out and be yourself by yourself.

But as we saw with Elsa, depression doesn’t just stop at being sad. Depression is a selfish illness – and before you react to that statement, please hear me out, because I’ve got the damn thing, so I’m pretty comfy owning that statement. When I’m depressed, I’m pretty effing selfish. When you’re depressed you’re irritable, rage-filled, irrational, unable to enjoy ordinary enjoyable things; you can’t sleep; you sleep too much; you’re lazy and unmotivated – and those traits don’t just impact you. They impact everyone around you. Recall Ben’s, “other kids’ parents play with them, but you don’t.” When you’re depressed, you don’t have the motivation to play with your kids, to tidy your house, or to keep your temper at the best of times, let alone when your kids or spouse are getting to you.

JD Bailey, Honest Mom, has written about the scariest part of depression – the rage. This is a fury that bursts out of you, uncontrollable and terrifying in its intensity. You feel it building inside of you – heart pounding, jaw clenching, until it gets to a point where it’s unstoppable and suddenly you’re lashing out, verbally, physically, mentally. Not everyone experiences the rage, but if you do it’s terrifying – for you and for the people around you. This can be the point for a lot of people when you realize that you need help. Up until now, you have held it all in and let yourself believe that it’s not affecting the people around you – but the first time you create that giant snow monster and set it loose on people, screaming, “DON’T COME BACK,” (or “JUST EAT YOUR DINNER,” or “WHY WON’T YOU JUST SLEEP?” the impact on those you love becomes undeniable.

There is a popular depression-themed meme starring Eeyore (of Winnie The Pooh fame), the text of which reads:

One awesome thing about Eeyore is that even though he’s basically clinically depressed, he still gets invited to participate in adventures and shenanigans with all of his friends. And they never expect him to pretend to feel happy; they just love him anyway, and they never leave him behind or ask him to change.

It urges us to accept people with depression as they are, warts, unhappiness, and all – and I agree, up to a point. It is important to let yourself, and your loved ones, feel. If you need to grieve, grieve. If someone is hurting, don’t tell them “It could be worse,” or “Pull yourself together.” People need space to be upset, to be sad, to be angry – but there is an extremely fine line between supporting and enabling. Poor Eeyore – his friends patted him on the back, helped him find his tail, and rebuilt his house of sticks when it got blown away, and I’m sure he really appreciated it. But he was still sad. And at some point, probably one by one, they said, “Oh, screw it, I guess that’s just Eeyore,” and they still let him tag along, because they didn’t want to be mean, and they let him just be his depressed self. And Eeyore was still sad.

And it might not have helped, but then again it might have, if one of them had said, “Hey Eeyore? I know it’s not really any of my business, and I’m not judging you, but we’ve found your tail and fixed your house and it just seems like you’re hurting a lot and you’re never really happy. I care about you and I really want to help you get the help you need.” And maybe Eeyore would have said piss off, which is fair, and hopefully that friend would have said, “Okay, buddy. I’m here though whenever you’re ready.” But maybe Eeyore would have had a good cry on that friend’s shoulder because finally someone got that he was sad, and he didn’t even know why, and he did want to figure out how to stop it, and then maybe he and that friend might have started Googling some options.

Frozen had a happy ending. The much more difficult ending would have been the one where Anna, out of self-preservation, has to let go herself – letting go of guilt and walking away, understanding that whatever that other person decides to do, it is not up to you to change them. There can come a point, in loving someone who is depressed, when you have to love yourself more. I’ve done it. It wasn’t easy and it wasn’t pretty, but it was hands down the best decision I ever made.

Elsa needed Anna, because by herself, she didn’t know that she wasn’t okay, and Anna stepped up and, against all odds, reached out, again and again. People with depression need Annas. It’s hard to do it on your own – first because you don’t always realize that you need help and after that because even when you realize it, that help is not easy to get. Even when Elsa pushed her away, and even when Elsa hurt her, she kept reaching out, until finally Anna was able to break through Elsa’s self-involvement, to show her that isolating herself wasn’t protecting anyone, and that even though her actions were affecting her loved ones, they loved her and wanted her, warts and all – but only the warts she wanted to keep.

Elsa kept her powers – the magic that was integral to her personality – but got the help she needed to be able to control it, not be controlled by it. Her power no longer called the shots. People with depression can be pretty awesome. We often have wicked cool senses of humour – Elsa created Olaf, didn’t she? Scratch the surface of many very funny and talented people (The Bloggess***, and pretty well every other humour blogger in the world) and comedic actors, for example – and you’ll often find depression. We tend to be realists and are pretty comfortable with our own warts…and maybe a little too comfortable pointing out other peoples’.

If, like Elsa and Anna, we find that happy ending, we don’t become different people – we’re generally the same dry, sarcastic, realistic people as before, just a little easier to live with, and finding it a little easier to live with ourselves.

~ karyn

*Pre-ordering? Not actually a thing. You order. You don’t pre-order. Ordering is when you say, “Can I have this when it’s ready?” Pre-ordering would be saying, “Can I have this when it’s ready to be ready?” or something. Like pre-registering – what the heck is that? What do you do when you pre-register? You say, “Sign me up for that thing I want to do! Here’s all my information!” You know what I call that? REGISTERING. Yeesh.

**For another take on Frozen and depression, walk the plank over to Domestic Pirate for a powerful post on how Elsa and Anna represent the two warring voices of depression in her head.

***Seriously – if you haven’t read Let’s Pretend This Never Happened yet, you need to. You will ugly cry and laugh hysterically at the same time. So…uh…like my friend David recommends, try to avoid reading it in public.

Not your mama’s toy shopping tips

Nov13

‘Tis the season!! As the ground turns snowy and swathes of red and green appear in the dollar store, our thoughts turn to the joyous season of giving.

Dollar Store in October. No joke.

To help you with that giving, I have been carefully poring over toy catalogues to compile a list of my top 10 essential Christmas shopping tips. I really hope that you find them helpful!

10 Essential Toy Shopping Tips, straight from Santa!

Top 10 Christmas Shopping Tips

(according to a national retail toy catalogue)

Tip #1:

For the little boy in your life, pirate, castle, race car, tool kit and train play sets are always appropriate choices. Don’t accidentally buy one for your little girl, though. She would much rather have a pretty pink purse, baking set, realistic shopping cart, or vanity unit with light – the 5-minute auto shut-off means she won’t get into the habit of primping for too long, and her future husband will appreciate that, amiright? Pair that with her very own vacuum cleaner and cleaning trolley and look at her go!

Collage of catalogue pages. Thought bubble reads, “This thing’s gonna crap out any second and I’m not even half done.”

Tip #2:

Boys love science, so look for a telescope, chemistry set, microscope, or any of many other assorted science kits with only boys on the boxes. As I’m sure you realize, girls aren’t really good at that sort of thing but they do like to make pretty stuff, so you could try the rock-tumbling kit; maybe she’ll even learn something while creating earrings, necklaces, or keychains! For even more creativity without the distracting science focus, consider any of a wide variety of craft kits.

Collage of catalogue pages

Tip#3:

Looking for something a bit bigger? Little girls really like to sit and draw, or even just sit passively and look pretty, so consider a art desk or a pink princess castle playhouse for her. For her brother, how about an activity gym or superhero-themed real go-kart? Those boys really like to get active while their sisters watch! Remember, they’re never too young to start internalizing appropriate gender roles, so consider an infant-sized kitchen play-set for Baby Susie or sports centre for Little Johnny.

Collage of catalogue pages. Text reads, “Binary Internalized Gender Roles: The Gift That Keeps On Giving!”

Tip #4:

For toddlers and preschoolers, you can’t go wrong with a classic child-sized kitchen play set. It used to be that these were only for the little girl in your life, but we’ve come a long way, baby! Now you can get realistic-looking toy kitchens so that boys and girls can play together – think how much fun your kids will have reinforcing gender stereotypes when she washes dishes while he barbecues, or even better, as she fixes him another sammich while he scarfs down the first!

Catalogue page. Speech and thought bubbles read: “How are the dishes coming babe?” “Just fine, sweetie!” “Asshole.”

Tip #5:

Little girls love to play dress-up and then look at themselves in the mirror, so the only question is: Table-top or full length? (Or how about both?)

Catalogue page. Thought bubble reads, “I thought I wanted that chemistry set, but boy was I wrong. Thank goodness Auntie Sue went with her gut!”

Tip #6:

Outdoor toys like sleds, battery-operated cars and other ride-ons are always a hit! If you want your daughter to participate make sure she has a brother or little boy friend who can take the controls because you know what they say about women drivers…

Collage of catalogue pages. Text reads: “I mean, women drivers – It’s just not worth the risk, right?”

Tip #7:

Building sets are also an excellent choice for both boys and girls. The manufacturer makes it easy for the consumer to ascertain which sets are appropriate for boys or girls by selectively gendering the character figures that are included. Your daughters will love building the sets and then grooming horses, pampering pets, hosting sleepovers, or running a bakery with Andrea, Emma, Stephanie, Mia, and Olivia, while your sons will enjoy flying planes, fighting bad guys, and performing open water rescues while identifying with male pilots, lumberjacks, forklift operators, police officers, superheroes, and coast guard members!

Collage of catalogue pages

Tip #8:

What little girl wouldn’t love a baby doll to cuddle and care for or a little girl doll to be her best friend? With a wide variety of doll furniture and other accessories available in a vast array of shades of pink, your little mommy can dress, change, bath, and feed her little baby to her heart’s content. Since statistics show that the vast majority of little girls are white or just slightly tanned, you will easily be able to find a doll that your daughter can relate to. As the catalogue suggests, “Celebrate her uniqueness” with the gift of unintentional irony! Playing with dolls develops nurturing, caring, and empathy, which is wonderful for girls, but of course we don’t wish to encourage those traits in boys, which brings us to our next tip –

Collage of catalogue pages – in fact, EVERY SINGLE page in the doll section. Text reads: “CELEBRATE HER UNIQUENESS WITH ACCIDENTAL IRONY” and (pointing to tiny inset photo) “Look! A Black person! Thumbs up to this retailer for representing diversity!”

Tip #9:

Boys love violence! Luckily there is a wide variety of toys available to feed those urges, including boxing sets, guns, and ammo. For your little Katniss, consider a pink/purple gun, bow, or crossbow – and so you don’t have to say it, the little “Rebelle” logo will remind her every time she sees it that it’s not quite socially appropriate, now, is it?

Collage of catalogue pages

Tip #10:

Finally, if toys aren’t really your game, consider furniture. Is your little one outgrowing his crib? Why not get him an awesome toddler bed that looks like a sports car, train, or pirate ship? If you have a daughter, you’ll have to think of something else since a hollowed out fairy princess would be kind of creepy. (Aside – How is it that no-one has made a disemboweled tauntaun toddler bed yet?? Mattel? Little Tikes? This is cross-branding GOLD. You guys will definitely want to get on that. I expect a 10% royalty on every unit sold.)

Catalogue pages. Thought bubble reads, “This race car is cool and all but a hollowed out tauntaun would be SO much better.”

Special bonus tip #11:

Be aware of the way that toy marketing influences as well as reinforces gender roles. Don’t buy into the marketing gimmick that tells you that you have to go to the separate “girls” section to get a pinkified version of the same familiar toys. Companies aren’t doing it because research has shown that there is a qualitative difference between “boy” stuff and “girl” stuff. They’re doing it because they know they can get you to spend your money twice on the same damn thing.

Listen to your children. Let them develop their own likes and dislikes – don’t let the toy companies do it for them. If your daughter asks Santa for a 44-piece tool kit while your son wants an Easy-Bake oven, congratulate yourself on doing parenting right. (I still use that tool kit – thanks again, Santa!).

The social construction of gender is a cyclical process – advertising doesn’t create those constructs, but it doesn’t try to undermine them either, because retailers make money by giving us what we want to see: Little white girls playing with dolls and boys driving racecars. They think that we won’t be as likely to buy it if they catch us off-guard with something that doesn’t seem quite right, so they (and we) continue to force our hockey-playing girls and our Strawberry Shortcake-loving boys back into those boxes that society has built for them over and over until eventually they decide that they might as well just stay there.

Let kids be kids, not gender constructs. The next time you see a toy catalogue with 9 pages of little (white) girls playing with doll stuff and not a boy in sight, take a cue from Kid1 and shout it out, loud and proud:

“That’s a STEREOTYPE!!”

Collage of photos of boys and girls being themselves

Please Note: This is not a sponsored post. All artwork, unless otherwise noted, remains the property of the original photographer. My observations are based on my analysis of trends seen in toy catalogues and do not refer to any specific retailer or manufacturer pictured.

The Straight Poop on Potty Humour

Oct21

I believe very strongly in teaching my kids to use appropriate behaviour and language at all times. There is no room in Team Pickles for potty humour and poop jokes, and if my children veer into bathroom humour territory, I gently admonish them and remind them that

What do you mean, no-one’s buying it? I’ll have you know that we don’t stand for that sort of…

All right, fine. Maybe I’m not as consistent as I perhaps should be on the whole potty humour thing…but y’know…sometimes…shtuff happens.

The Straight Poop on Potty Humour
(Or, I think my credibility just went down the toilet)

Yesterday when Kid1 declared that he was about to have his third (3^rd!!) poop of the day, I foolishly led us down the rabbit hole of poop jokes (my apologies, Kid1’s teachers!). It started out so innocently:

“Kid1, you’re the poopiest guy I’ve ever seen! I have never heard of anyone pooping as much as you! You’re like the pooper of all poopers. If you were a dinosaur, you’d be a Poopasaurus Rex!!”

*giggle giggle giggle *

“If you were a tropical fish, you’d be a pooping tetra!”

*giggle giggle giggle *

“If you were a lunch, you’d be…pooperoni and cheese!!”

*giggle giggle giggle *

“If you were a breakfast you’d be cereal with poopghurt!!”

*howls*

“If you were a dinner, you’d be spaghetti and poopballs!!”

“If I were a book, I’d be I Have To Go POOP!!”

“If you were a Dr. SEUSS book you’d be The Cat in the Hat Goes Poop! Or Horton Hears a Poop!”

“Yeah! And it would be by Dr. POOPS!”

“If you were a Treehouse show, you’d be Franklin and Poops!!”

“Or Thomas the Tank Engine and Poops! And if I were a Disney Junior show, I’d be Stella and Poop!”

“If you were a song, you’d be I Knew You Were Poopy When You Walked In.”

“If you were a breakfast cereal, you’d be Froot Poops!”

“If I was in a band I’d be a poopcussionist!!”

“If you were a musical instrument, you’d be a poop organ!!”

“Or I’d play the BAGPOOPS!!!”

“If you were a pizza topping, you’d be…”

“POOPERONI AND CHEESE!!!”

*total collapse*

Sorry, mom…

~ karyn

Other parents’ judgement? That’s the leash-t of my worries.

Jun6

I love Today’s Parent. I don’t always agree with everything in it, but it’s always a good read, and gosh-dang-it, y’all know I’m a sucker for any kind of child development material!

The topic of this month’s “Debate” column is “Should you use a leash to control your toddler?” and I felt it missed the mark. I was frankly offended by Nadine Silverthorne’s assertion that “parents who use leashes look lazy,” and although Amy Morrison’s “Yes” column made a great case for leashes, I was saddened by the caveat that she never actually used one herself due to fear of judgement – a fear that was clearly justified!

Since Today’s Parent hasn’t been able to find anyone willing to admit to actually using a toddler leash, I feel compelled (anyone surprised by that?) to add my own two cents!

Although I use the term “toddler leash” facetiously among friends, it is not at all the same as an animal leash. There is no “obedience training” involved and it is not a punitive device used to jerk back a disobedient pet to ensure compliance born out of fear of a repeat performance. A toddler “leash” or harness is a safety device that allows your child the freedom of walking a few steps away from you while giving you the means to respond effectively to any unexpected danger.

Toddlers value independence above all else. The “Terrible Twos” exist because it is around that age that children first learn to do for themselves, at their own pace, and heaven help the parent who says, “Just let me do it for you!” Is it really fair to strap your fearless little explorer into a 5-point stroller harness just because he or she is too dazzled by the wonderful world around him or her to stop dead every time you shout, “Freeze!”?

Going back to the statement that toddler leash-toting parents “look lazy,” I asked my own mother, who, as a full-time doctor and mother of 3 in the 1980’s is the least lazy person I know (Case in point: She recently returned to work on crutches 9 days after breaking her hip in a skiing accident), what she thinks of parents who use toddler leashes. She responded dryly, “Karyn, if I hadn’t used a toddler leash, your brother Chris wouldn’t be around today.”

When Kid1 was a toddler, I kept his lightweight harness in my diaper bag, ready to throw on him any time the situation warranted. If I was going to be wandering the Eaton’s Centre or downtown Toronto, or taking a trip to a train station or waterfront with a 2 year-old, you bet your bippy I’d have that leash at the ready!

It was the best option for both of us – Kid1 was free to explore without being stuck in the stroller or having his hand held (just take a minute to imagine how uncomfortable it must be to have someone much taller than you holding your hand up above your head until it falls asleep, gripping it hard enough that you can’t pull away) and I had the security of knowing that I could stop him if he suddenly bolted towards a hazard.

There are certain situations in which even the most anti-leash parent would be unlikely to argue that a safety harness isn’t a good idea:

(For the record, the harness Kid1 is wearing in the preceding photograph is actually an adult boating harness intended for sailboat racing – safety devices ain’t just for toddlers, y’know.)

And how about in the case of special needs children? If you don’t think that’s appropriate, take a minute to walk a mile in some other parents’ shoes by reading the testimonials on this website from users of special needs child-to-adult harnesses. Or take it straight from the horse’s mouth, so to speak:

I’ve got the best harness in the world. When I first got it I didn’t like wearing it, but now I love my harness. I never get lost and I don’t have to keep holding hands all the time and its comfortable to wear. Big kids and little kids should wear a harness because you are never too old to be kept safe. And I love the colours.

– Tyler, Australia, Age 9, http://www.childharness.ca/testimonials.html

There are important guidelines to follow when using a toddler harness:

1. The whole idea is to give your child the freedom to explore on his or her own terms, so try to follow at his or her pace and guide your child with your words (“Time to go this way! Come on!”). Your child is not a puppy, and the harness is not an choke-chain, so do not jerk him or her back to you.

2. If you aren’t holding the harness, tuck it firmly out of the way, and take it off completely if your child is playing on something like a climber or slide where it could become a strangulation hazard.

3. When it comes to wrist straps, just don’t: If you can manage to get them tight enough to stay on, they’re just a broken wrist waiting to happen.

4. And of course, make sure that you come prepared with pithy rejoinders for those inevitable judgments, such as,

“Well, the breeder suggested that we try this first, but if his behaviour doesn’t improve soon, it’s off to obedience school!”

“Dear God! You’re right! This isn’t my dachshund Olympus – it’s my neighbour’s kid! I can’t believe I did it AGAIN!”

Or the classic, “You know what they say about people in glass houses.”

As Nadine Silverthorne points out, it is our job as parents to teach our children “the rules,” including the expectation that when we say “Freeze,” they will. I say that even more importantly, it is our job to know our own children and to keep them safe whether they are listening or not. The call-and-response method that she describes is an excellent training tool, but at the toddler age it is simply not foolproof. There is always potential for distraction, and the use of a toddler leash can ensure that a moment’s impulsiveness doesn’t turn into a life-altering tragedy.

~ karyn (aka that horrible, lazy, toddler-leash-using mom everybody love to judge!)

A proud moment in a mother’s life

Oct2

You probably haven’t noticed in my previous posts…I mean, I try not to make it too obvious…but I do have a slight tendency to make a certain type of joke.

Growing up in my family, there was no way of avoiding it, and as Ian, as well as others who have had the ~~mis~~fortune to become involved with members of my family, can attest, there is a definite indoctrination process and it can be a punishing ordeal.

As such, it came to pass that yesterday evening we drove home past the shoe tree, and naturally as we approached it, there was some shoe-tree-related wordplay. “Are we going past the shoe tree?” “We shoe are!” “Was that a tongue-in-cheek statement?” “Be shoe to look out the window!” etc.

And then Ian said, “Bud, are you watching?” and Kid1 replied:

“Yes. *pause* I mean – Yes, SHOE-ree!”

I teared up.

~ karyn

Having a gas on a Wednesday afternoon

Sep27

We had a little bit of excitement around here yesterday – when I went down to the basement to use the printer while Kid2 was napping, I smelled a distinct odour of rotten eggs. Further investigation (including me braving the spiders and centipedes to crawl under my desk and sniff the main drain stack) yielded no apparent cause, so I went back upstairs and asked my good friend Google what the recommended course of action was under the circumstances. Google said, “You idiot, call 9-1-1! And don’t touch anything electrical because slightest spark could cause your house to explode!”

Still feeling that that might be overkill (but with the smell getting stronger) I called the non-emergency fire department number and the nice lady who answered said basically the same thing, adding that I should also get Kid2 and wait outside. So I called 9-1-1 and explained the situation, woke Kid2 up and got her a banana and a sweater and we went outside to wait for the nice firemen to arrive!

The truck showed up a few minutes later and the very understanding firefighters assured me that I had made the right call <—- see what I did there? and went in with their CO readers, noted that there was definitely an odour, and tested the house from top to bottom (well, I guess technically from bottom to top) and side to side.

The chief stayed outside with Kid2 and me and filled out a report. He also asked me lots of questions about whether anyone in the house had been feeling ill or headachy today or yesterday; I had to admit that actually I had but I had also drunk fairly strong 2 gin&tonics last night so it was not entirely unexpected. He laughed and said, “Yep, that would do it!”

Kid2 was pretty quiet (she was not impressed when I woke her up) but did tell him that she had a fire-coat too and that Kid1 and daddy were going to be really sad to miss the fire truck. I made him laugh pretty hard with, “I hate to think I’ve brought you out here for nothing, but I figured if it was a gas leak and my house exploded, boy would my face be red.” He said, “Yeah, a lot of things would be red!”

They checked everything and concluded that there were no dangerous gasses so it was probably a plumbing issue, but did bring me down to the basement to show me a potential water heater venting issue that we should fix before the winter (now that’s service above and beyond!). The smell dissipated over the rest of the afternoon so the issue seems to have been temporary but the moral of the story is of course, if you smell gas, call 9-1-1 because it’s always better to be safe than sorry.

~ karyn

PS – When we went back inside, because I’m a jerk, I emailed the pictures to Ian with no explanation…heheheheh.

I’m calling it a knight!

Sep19

I come from a ~~long~~ ~~short~~ well, a line, anyway, of fabulous Hallowe’en costume-makers, ie. my mom, who as well as being a fantastic doctor and a very smart lady is also an excellent seamstress. (Seriously. How can I live up to that?)

Every Hallowe’en my brothers and I would each decide what we would like to be, and mom would make it happen. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle? Sure! Here’s your giant puffy brown felt shell that fits on like a backpack! Batman and Batgirl? No problem! Have an intricately sewn bat-logo and handcrafted button-up utility belt with loops and pouches for your tools and weapons. (Worn over a leotard and tights worn over a snowsuit. I did vow that I would never make my kids wear a snowsuit under their costumes unless it was ACTUALLY SNOWING). Devil? Okay, one red pantsuit, caplet, tail, and hood with puffy horns coming up!

Hands down, her crowning achievement was the creation of adult-sized Teletubby costumes from toddler-sized patterns for a sailing regatta costume contest (We won. And immortalized the line, “La-la wants a BEER!”).

Anyway, when it comes to Hallowe’en costumes I have big shoes to fill. This year Kid2 chose a princess costume at the store and Kid1 decided that in keeping with the theme, he would be a brave knight. (Kid2 has since changed to Santa, but that’s a whole other story).

Kid1 and I looked online for costumes but I was unhappy with the shipping charges. A trip to the dollar store looking for a sword inspired me and I decided that I could make the costume myself, so I stocked up on materials and went for it.

Brave Knight Costume

Materials needed: 1 reflective car windshield sunshade, felt (2 colours), black hockey tape, and scissors.

Step 1: Fold sunshade in half width-wise and cut into approximately t-shirt shape, curving down from the shoulders and widening slightly at the bottom. NB – All of these pictures show the costume folded over – the top of the shoulders is NOT cut and it looks the same on the other side.

Step 2: Cut pointed strips from waist down with small spaces between them to form “skirt” of armour. Repeat on the other side.

Step 3: Edge the entire costume with black hockey tape.

Step 4: Make a 2-colour design out of felt to be your brave knight’s symbol. I went for simplicity and made a shield, but other options include cross, lion, dragon, or anything ~~your brave knight can think of~~ of which your brave knight can think. (That’s for my brothers.) I edged and attached it with hockey tape as well but glue would also work.

Add a black belt and weapons and your brave knight is ready to do battle!

I know I hit it out of the park this time when Kid1 came to inspect my progress as I was half-way through the hockey tape border. His jaw dropped and eyes widened and he gasped and said, “I LOVE it!” Now he has another project for me – he said yesterday, “Mommy, now you have a big job to do – make a dragon costume for daddy.”

MO-O-O-O-OMMM…HELP??

~ karyn

PicklesINK

Parenting. Learning. Caffeinating.

Tag Archive | children

Why a newspaper “Ethics” columnist thinks 7 year-olds in competitive dance are akin to sex workers.

Sometimes the universe nudges you onto the ‘write’ path

Stranger Danger

Are you Elsa or Anna? What Frozen says about depression.

The Straight Poop on Potty Humour

Other parents’ judgement? That’s the leash-t of my worries.

A proud moment in a mother’s life

Having a gas on a Wednesday afternoon

I’m calling it a knight!