Don’t Call her “Princess”

Leave a comment September 24, 2013 drworobec

This is how Dictionary.com defines ‘princess’:

1) A non-reigning female member of a royal family.
2) A female sovereign or monarch; queen.
3) The consort of a prince.
4) In Great Britain, a daughter or granddaughter (if the child of a son) of a king or queen.
5) A woman considered to have the qualities or characteristics of a princess.

Numbers 1-4 do not apply to my daughter. Those points are easy to argue. It’s #5 that has me concerned.

Yep, she’s cute. And yep, she’s only 18 months old. Perhaps I’m making a bigger deal out of this than needs to be made. In fact, if I am being completely honest, I have called her “princess” on occasion myself. However, we were at an indoor playplace one morning last week, and sweet little Casey toddled towards one of the dads playing with his children- the first words out of his mouth were “hi, princess”. He didn’t choose to just say “hi”, “hello”, or even “hi sweetie”, which is what I call most toddlers I encounter. He chose “princess”. If she had been a boy, would he have chosen “prince”? I doubt it. I think he would’ve chosen “buddy”, or “bud”, or “big guy”. “Buddy”, “bud”, and “big guy” all convey images of camaraderie, strength, and confidence.

Meanwhile, Google informs me that the “qualities and characteristics of a princess” include nobility, poise, dignity, listening attentively, controlling her emotions, selflessness, generosity, compassion, patience, and forgiveness. And here’s the kicker: “A princess doesn’t compete with a prince. Just the opposite, she builds him up”. Wow. Not exactly conveying camaraderie, strength, and confidence. Girls are praised for their looks and boys are praised for their character. It starts early, folks. Are we teaching our daughters to be confident, self-assured, independent young women, or are we teaching them to find their prince and build him up? I’m trying to raise my little girl to be a kind person, just as I’m trying to raise my little boy to be a kind person. The stereotypical, gender-role, accepted-female-behaviour-versus-accepted-male-behaviour has got to stop.

The reality is, she will likely be told she’s cute many more times in her life than she’s told that she’s smart. Or that she’s strong. Or that she’s kind. Her cuteness is the tip of the great big iceberg personality that lies beneath.

Like I said initially, perhaps I am reading into this too much. Perhaps I am creating worry where no worry needs to be. But, then again, perhaps it all starts with “princess”.

I love this kid!

The Garbage Man

2 Comments September 17, 2013 drworobec

I am having a love affair with the garbage man.

OK, not really- it’s actually the recycling workers, and no love affair is involved- but I really do appreciate these guys and what they do for us each week. I wrote this letter-to-the-editor two weeks ago, and it ended up in the Burlington Post:

recycling letter
This past Thursday morning, when the recycling truck and its two workers came by, the conversation went something like this:

Him: “Good morning! Did you write that letter to the paper last week?”
Me: “Yes I did. Did you see it?”
Him: “Yes, and I wanted you to know how much we appreciated that. It really made our day”.

This interaction floored me. One, because I didn’t actually expect that the recycling workers themselves would see the letter. I wrote it to express my gratitude in the hopes that Halton Recycling would see that they’re doing a great job, and to remind people of the hard work these guys do on a daily basis. And two, because they were able to figure out that it must’ve been me who wrote the letter makes me realize that they enjoy the weekly interaction with my children as much as we do. We’ve made an impression on them, as they have on us.

By them acknowledging that I’d made their day, made my day!

What goes around comes around, doesn’t it?

*****

For those who cannot read my letter-to-the-editor from the picture above, here is what it says:

“I have been meaning to write for months. I live in the Orchard, and I wanted to share my appreciation for the Halton recycling workers who come through our neighbourhood every Thursday morning.

They are usually at our house around 7:30am, and we are often eating breakfast at that time. As soon as my 4.5 and 1.5 year-old kids hear the truck, they race to the front door.

We then stand on the front step and watch the truck make its way down our street. Without fail, through rain, sleet, and snow, the two workers give us a wave, a smile, and a friendly “Hi buddy” to my children. Every. Single. Time. Depending on the truck they are driving, they will sometimes stop in front of our house and use the lift arm to dump the recycling up into the top of the truck- quite a sight for two impressionable children to see!

I don’t think they know how much this simple act of kindness means to me, and to my kids.”

It was all the Extras.

Leave a comment September 10, 2013 drworobec

It was my birthday on Saturday.

I turned 34. Not a ‘milestone’ birthday, not a significant life-changing number, not a shift in decade, or even divisible by five. But a birthday nonetheless, and September 7th still makes me feel special every year. Perhaps it’s the nostalgia of childhood birthdays gone by, perhaps it’s the back-to-school rush, and perhaps it’s the changing of seasons, but whatever the reason, my birthday makes me appreciative. Grateful. Happy.

All that being said, I wasn’t particularly looking forward to my birthday this year. Not that I was dreading it, but rather that I was apathetic- I was in a ho-hum, take-it-or-leave-it, just-another-Saturday mood. Birthdays have changed for me over the years, as they do with age, and the most important birthdays in my life now happen on January 22nd and March 2nd. Those are the days on which memories are made, self-esteem is cultivated, and confidence is boosted. Those are the days that I vividly recall meeting the two blessings who came into my life and changed me forever. September 7th takes a backseat.

And so, when Saturday rolled around, the day’s plan included hot yoga, work, a family afternoon at the playground, and a date night with my husband. I love all of these things, so my ‘special day’ was shaping up to be pretty good. What I didn’t count on were the ‘extras’…..

The extra excitement of my four-year-old racing in to my bedroom and waking me with an unprompted ‘Happy Birthday’!
The extra help from my children’s hands tearing open my presents.
The extra phonecalls, voicemails, texts, emails, Tweets, and Facebook posts from friends and family.
The extra mail throughout the week, full of birthday cards from across Canada.
The extra hugs, gifts, and babysitting from my in-laws.
The extra-special friends who surprised me at our dinner out, orchestrated by my extra-thoughtful husband.
The extra work done by my wonderful friend and neighbour to make me a homemade, flour-less, to-die-for chocolate birthday cake.
The extra sleep I got on Sunday morning when my husband quietly took the kids downstairs for breakfast.

The extras made it special. The extras made it not ‘just another birthday’, not ‘just 34’, not ‘just September 7th’.

It was all the extras.

I’m an extra-lucky girl.