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!

‘HH’

4 Comments August 27, 2013 drworobec

I had to buy school uniforms last week. The navy blue and white, the school logo, all signal the passage of time. My four-year-old starts Kindergarten in just a few days.

My first baby, the child that changed everything about my life and my priorities is going to school. Thankfully, he will still be half-days only, as his school is one of the last Ontario schools to convert to full-day JK. And truth be told, we enrolled him in Nursery School three afternoons/week last year, so the step up to five afternoons/week is the next logical progression.

He is more than ready. The question is, am I?

As we carefully label his backpack and his water bottle, I remember the hours spent in his nursery, folding his clothes, unpacking his diapers, building his crib, all in the anticipation of his birth. And as we buy his running shoes and his snack containers, I remember the hours spent in the playroom, the backyard, the kitchen, teaching him to stack and unstack, open and close, count and sing.

My husband and I have a short-form via text message for ‘heading home’: because it’s a phrase we use often in our daily comings and goings, we simply text ‘HH’ and the partner at home knows that the other is on their way. And since I will be the one dropping our son off at school on his first official day while my husband is at work, I will text ‘HH’ on my walk back home with our 18-month-old daughter so he knows that the drop-off went well. I will be ‘HH’ back to a new reality, the next chapter, and the start of a new adventure for all of us. Bye-bye to my baby, my toddler, my Preschooler, and hello to my Kindergartener.

September 13th is his first official day. And as I drop off my not-so-little boy at school, I can promise you there will be tears, and lots of them. But my tears will be hidden from him by my smile and my hugs, mixed with nostalgia and excitement, disbelief and joy, amazement and hope.

I will be ‘HH’… proud and content.

Meeting the boy who made me a mom.

148 hours per week

2 Comments July 23, 2013 drworobec

I work part-time, about 20 hours per week. Right now, at this stage in my life, that’s about all I can handle. But what do I do with the other 148 hours per week?

I am a parent.

I wipe children’s faces and noses and bums. I’ve caught spit-up with my hand and pee with my t-shirt.

I don’t go to the bathroom alone or shower in peace. If little hands are not reaching to be picked up, they are wiggling fingers underneath the door or rattling the knob to get in.

I rarely sit down, and when I do, it’s usually to make a grocery list or fold laundry or do some online banking. I wake up at 5:30 to have some gym time and I go to bed late so that I can have some couch time.

I prepare three meals and many snacks every day. I rarely get to enjoy my food hot. I dole out vitamins and prunes and fish oil. I clean up the table, I wipe down the highchair, and my dishwasher is always full.

I put shoes on six feet in the morning, hats on three heads, and sunscreen on twelve limbs. I can pack a diaper bag in two minutes flat while carrying a baby in my arms. I can leash the dog, open the garage door, and unfold the stroller while simultaneously tracking down keys and bringing in the newspaper.

I take my kids to swimming lessons and skating lessons, playgrounds and playgroups, library programs and parks. I get their teeth checked, their eyes checked, their spines checked, and I get them weighed and measured. I teach them about manners and sharing and taking turns. I teach them to play gently with the dog.

I make sure they’re hydrated, fed, and rested. I make sure they’re getting enough exercise and fresh air, and not too much screen time. I keep their 20 fingernails trimmed and their 20 toenails clean. I brush their hair and their teeth and help tidy their rooms.

I read countless books and play countless hours in the playroom. I walk miles through wood-chipped trails and point out the birds and the trees and the squirrels. I smile when my daughter points out every airplane that flies overhead and my son gets excited at every big truck that we see.

I practice the alphabet and numbers, I sing songs and make up rhymes, and I tell more stories than you can imagine. I take pictures often and videos sporadically, and I write down their milestones in a baby book.

I am also a wife, a daughter, a daughter-in-law, a sister, a niece, a cousin, and a friend. I’m a chiropractor, a runner, a Crossfitter, and a foodie. I love travelling and reading and coffee and chocolate. I love being outside, getting up early, and taking naps. I’m organized and loyal, a perfectionist, and a to-do-lister. But to my kids, I am a mom.