What Kind of Princess Are You?

Madeline often refers to herself as a "pirate princess." I'm good with that. I like that she fancies herself an independent, adventurous sort of princess, rather than the damsel in distress type.
As she's become more interested in the whole princess thing, which undoubetedly includes the Disney princesses, I've been making a few observations that escaped my attention when I was a little girl with her own princess fantasies.

Let's begin with Snow White, shall we? Snow White strikes me as the typical, "Oh dear me! Where is a big strong MAN to rescue me because I certainly can't fend for myself" kind of princess. She finds herself at the mercy of the huntsman, seeks refuge with the dwarves, and can only be saved by the kiss of the prince. What the heck does she do for herself? Nary a thing. Nary. And, if I guess correctly, I would imagine that a young, single woman living with seven men would not have been deemed appropriate in her day, no matter how vertically challenged they were.

Cinderella has always been my favorite. I mean, the prince proposes with shoes. What's not to love? Here's something from my teaching experience, though. I used the Cinderella story as a familiar tale to demonstrate how everyone brings their own opinions to the table when it comes to reading, and no one is any more correct than anyone else. Is it a "love conquers all" story? Yes, although how you fall in love with someone without knowing her name, forget what she looks like, and have to try her lost shoe on every woman in the kingdom just to find her is beyond me. Is it a story of revenge? Yes. Surely, the stepmother and stepsisters get their comeuppance after Cinderella marries the prince. Is it a "good trumps evil" story? Sure it is.
Cinderella is a little more bold than Snow White. At least she has the gaul to defy the crazy stepmother by coming downstairs with the shoe in her pocket and escape her prison.

I'm still not sure about Sleeping Beauty. I had to watch it more than once to figure out why she had two names. I also think Timothy Leary and Jerry Garcia had a hand in the design of the movie, but that's another story. Here's my biggest problem with the movie: the princess's guardians let her in on the fact that she is actually a princess and will be leaving them, the only parents she has known for 16 years, to live in the royal palace with the king and queen (her real parents) forever. No reaction. Blank stare from Aurora/Briar Rose. They tell her she can't eat her birthday dinner with some random guy she met in the woods 20 minutes ago, and she gets a case of the vapors, runs crying hysterically into her bedroom, and throws herself on the bed in convulsions of despair.
Message to girls: It doesn't matter who your family is, what kind of life you live, or whether your guardians have been honest with you about your lineage. What really matters is that you have a man to eat dinner with.

Now, let's talk about Belle. Beauty and the Beast was a cute movie when I was younger (it was released when I was 15 or 16), but it wasn't a favorite until recently. In Belle's village, of course you have the dime-a-dozen, blond ditzes who fawn over any guy with muscles and consider Cosmopolitan a book. They dress alike. They have the same hair and make-up. You know them. But, even the handsomest, most eligible (albeit brutish) bachelor in town wants nothing to do with them. He wants the brainiac. He wants the girl with her nose in a book, unafraid to express her own opinions and be just who she is, without trying to imitate anyone else. That's the girl the Beast falls for, because she is so different from all the other women. She speaks her mind. She's smarter than he is; she teaches him to read. She had a 10-foot beast growling orders at her, and she stands up to him.
Yes. I think I like having this example set for Sweet Pea. Be yourself. Read. Be kind to others. Help people even when they haven't done anything to deserve it. Yes.

I've only seen The Little Mermaid once, and I do like Aladdin, but it's been so long since I've seen it I don't recall all the details. The others, I haven't seen.

So, what kind of princess are you?

8 Months Old!

I couldn't decide which picture I liked more, so I posted both. Look at that happy little face! Don't you just want to squeeze the stuffings out of him?? (Don't, though. He needs his stuffings.)

Baby D is now combat crawling, much to his sister's delight and chagrin. She likes it when he slides across the floor on his belly to come after her, but his now successful attempts at overtaking her dollhouse or her cars are met with protests of, "No way, Dabid!"
I never had a sibling. I never experienced this. We'll have to see how I handle it. Stay tuned.

He still doesn't have any teeth, but we can see one getting ready to make its debut. Of course, I'll post pictures as soon as that happens.

Has it really been 8 months? Really? He's getting to be such a big boy. (sigh)

Just a Couple of Pictures

My sweet girl, snuggling her giraffe.

"Come on, David! Just gimme a kiss!"

David and cousin, Lawson, cracking each other up. Lawson's mom and dad (Dan's brother, Mike, and SIL, Sara), were gracious enough to drive down from South Carolina for a play date.

Whatever it is, it's still funny.

Rock On

Please tell me I'm not the only one who has had this experience: You're driving along in the car and you've just turned the radio up a few notches because you hear the song you used to sing at the top of your lungs when you were 7. "What a great song," you think, "and they really don't make music like this anym..." You pause. You listen closely. Your face goes pale because you suddenly realize that the lyrics are, well, not exactly 7-year-old appropriate. In fact, they're kind of, um, dirty. If you don't believe me and you're in your early-mid thirties, go back and listen to Prince's "Little Red Corvette." It's not about a car. Or, better yet, revisit Cyndi Lauper's "She Bop." She's not singing about dancing.
You think, "Oh. My. Gosh. I cannot believe my parents let me listen to this filth.

Give your mom a break. It was on the mainstream pop radio station, which should be kid appropriate, but it isn't always and chances are, she was more focused on getting you to your destination safely than to whatever Madonna was screeching about.

I tend to steer away from mainstream pop radio stations, not necessarily because I don't want my kids to hear the music, but because I don't like to listen to lyrics that are trite and have no substance whatsoever that genre of music. It's much the same reason I don't listen to country "music." I'm not partial to songs about my young'uns done did got all growed up and a-leavin' me, and I've often told my husband, who does occasionally tune his radio to one of the 458 country stations here in Birmingham, that if one more person dies in a song on the radio, I will be forced to turn the blasted thing completely off.

That said, I have tried to be much more concsious of what is playing in the car, lest the kids get an earful of something they really don't need to hear. For instance, after hearing that little redneck lovely young woman on American Idol sing a popular country song about a woman who has just loaded her shotgun and has made plans for an evening of smoking cigarettes, getting sloppy drunk, and killing her wayward husband with said shotgun upon his arrival home, my guess is that I will not be tuning in to any country stations with my little ones in tow.

OK, I confess. I don't always change the station when I should. In fact, the other day, I listened to Bel Biv DeVoe on purpose because the hubby had worn a bright green shirt that reminded me of 1992 - the color, not the shirt - and, well, it was funny. (It's drivin' me outta my mind/That's why it's hard for me to find/It's drivin' me outta my head/Miss her, kiss her, love her/That girl is poison. Poison.P-P-P-Poison! Never trust a big butt and a smile...You're welcome.)

Please don't ask me why I have Bel Biv Devoe readily available in my car.

I don't usually listen to the kind of music I prefer, though. I feel that they may be a little too young for '90's Grunge. But, I do listen to stuff from my parents'  and grandparents' generations, just as I always have, as well as some Contemporary Christian and Classical. I'd rather they had those genres as a base upon which to build their musical tastes, anyway.

So, I'd like to know if you have altered your listening choices since having children. Do you listen to stuff that's more kid-friendly, or have you kept it pretty much the same? Why?

7 Months Old!

So, what is our 7-month-old up to these days?

For starters, he smiles like that all the time. He giggles. He says, "DaDa - DaDa - DaDa!" He gets up on all fours and rocks back and forth as if he's about to crawl, but nothing has happened yet.

Baby D is such a sweet, sweet boy. He still adores his big sister and laughs at everything she does.

What a blessing to have such a wonderful baby boy in our lives!

A Good Blog to Read

I thought I might share this blog upon which I recently stumbled.

It deals with kids and good manners, and Lord knows, the world would be a much nicer place if people would actually heed the lessons in good manners passed down from their Grannies. It all starts at home, folks.

Here are just a few items I observed while skimming through the blog this morning:

• Chewing with one's mouth open.
• Not saying please and thank you. As the blogger points out, "I mean you are the centre of the world aren’t you, and everyone else is here to please you."
• Interrupting people.

 It's all about the Golden Rule. I guess if you don't really care if someone thinks they're more important than you and that your time and words are worthless, the Golden Rule doesn't really apply to you. As for the rest of us, we're glad that some people are still teaching their children how to respect themselves and other people.

I will tell you that if you are an English teacher, you're going to want to go after this blog with a red pen. But, the content is worth reading.

Enjoy!

Teaching Children Manners

What's New at Head Manor

What's new around here? Well, let's see. It's hot.

It's really, really hot. It's 90 degrees in May. For my international friends, that's 32.2C. I'm going to get this out of my system now so I don't have to drive you nuts with my repeated declarations of how evil summer is. Here we go: I hate summer. I hate being hot. Sweat is the most deplorable bodily fluid; no human should smell like a barnyard animal. I hate the way my face breaks out, the way everyone stinks to high heaven, the way I have to worry about my children having a heat stroke on the way to the car, the way the humidity makes my hair look like a fern, and the way I have to wear clothes that show more skin than I'm comfortable showing, just so I won't die.
Redeeming qualities of summer: Tomatoes, cucumbers, watermelon, and peaches. There. I feel better.

Look how red her hot, sweaty face is! (But, isn't she beautiful?)

"Hey, what's in this stuff? Anything that will cool it off out here?"

OK. I'm done. For now. The hotter it gets, the more angry and bitter I become.

In other news, I learned that I have astigmatism and now have to wear glasses. So, when you see future photos of a bespectacled me, you won't be surprised. Also, we have a visitor! Aunt Meredith finished up her exams and made the trek to Birmingham to hang out with us. That's her holding Baby D in the picture above.

So, I guess that's all we have going on as of now. I'll update with something more profound another time, like when I don't need to fold three loads of laundry and plan dinner. :)