Dr. Sleeping Beauty

Society, in general,  puts so much pressure on mothers to be perfect.  Which is unnecessary, because it's not like we're gonna say; "No, no.  It's not that important, I'm just gonna half-ass this shit".   Unfortunately, as soon as your pregnancy test changes colour, the judgement begins (Is she eating nitrites?). It gets worse as the child ages, and any problems they have become Mom's fault. Of course, this means that the opposite is also true, and so whenever anyone comments on how sweet Ann is, I say "Yes. I'm an excellent mother".  Because I know that the other shoe on that will drop any day. And then it will be my fault that she hit your child, because I feed her too much processed food; or I let her watch too much TV; or because I talk behind her back on the Internet (ummm, that one might be true).  I might as well milk it while I can.

I do feel that as a mother, I am very lucky.  I had an outstanding example of what mothering and parenting is supposed to look like.  Specifically- deliberate parenting, which is when you take the time to think about the message your child is receiving from your words and your actions.  As opposed to reactive parenting, which is when your mouth opens and stuff comes out (this happens to me after 5pm).   My parents also believed in leading by example. When I was small, my mother was integral in unionizing part-time staff at the local college, and in introducing a Sex Ed curriculum in our district.  She and some friends wrote a feminist newsletter for women in the north.  We didn't eat McDonald's, Nestlé or KFC, based on their policies, not their food.  And I could talk ad nauseum about Nestlé's actions in Africa by the time I was ten (not surprisingly, I was a really popular teenager).  She also helped start eight million non-profit organizations and sat on an equal number of boards.  Do you know how hard that shit is to live up to?  Do you know how boring boards are?  Know what I did when Ann was a baby?  Eight seasons of Supernatural.

What this means, is that in addition to snooty judgement from society, I also have lofty expectations that I've made for myself, based on what I believe successful parenting/adulthood looks like.  And I try to meet those. I really try. Nestlé is still an asshole, but the problem is that I eat my boredom and my feelings, and they usually taste like Mars Bars.  I've been beating myself up about this for years.  The bar for good parenting/role modeling is set really high. Recently though, I've been working on the idea that I'm not my mother (ground-breaking, non?), and leading by example will look different for me.  There will be ample time for me to indoctrinate introduce ideas to Ann in my own, unique ways (likely with immature humour and quotes from sitcoms).  For example, a picture of our Halloween costumes last week:

Figure 1: Dr. Sleeping Beauty and her Pumpkin
Much to my chagrin, Annie loves princesses.  I hate princesses. They are valued only for their beauty and grace, and they helplessly sit back and wait for their Prince to save them- not just from evil witches, but also from the agony of a life of princelessness.
My genius plan (after seeing it on the Halloween special of 'The Office'), was to diversify her idea of princesses.  Hence:
Dr. Sleeping Beauty, Chief of Staff, Oncology.

I started explaining it to her, but her eyes glazed and she stroked my cheek, saying; "Mommy, you're so pretty...".

"Unfulfilled by life in a castle, Sleeping Beauty went back to school and pursued her dream of helping needy children.  Sometimes she waves her magical reflex hammer (not pictured) to perform miracles, but, more often than not; it is hard work and perseverance that makes the difference."

"Uh huh.  Where's your castle, Mommy?"

Cinderella's pumpkin turns into a carriage, mine turns into a resident.  One that has trouble finding veins.  She is a gourd, after all.

Let me tell you, I've said a lot of nasty things about princesses over the years.  In that dress and tiara, I was uncomfortable in the way only hypocrisy can make you.  But my daughter will remember.  And the reason it will be so memorable is because it was authentic.  It was totally something I would do.  I will never organize a rally.  No one would trust me with that kind of planning.  But I have other skills.  I am outgoing, outspoken, and outlandish (among other things.  Of which 'amazing' springs immediately to mind).  You can do a lot with that. Taming annoying teenagers, for starters.  It's all about making use of the resources available to you.

So, ya.  When she is 24, Ann may not be doing a women's studies project on the political impact that her mother had on society in the '80s, but she'll have a photo of that time I got all preachy about Sleeping Beauty's lifestyle choices.  Hopefully there will be lots of obnoxious photos of me by then.  Fingers crossed.

Or not. Maybe we'll have lost the photo and she'll just remember that time I was a pretty princess for Halloween.

Perhaps I need to rethink my approach.

The original 'Dr. Cinderella'.

**UPDATED** last weekend we drove up north. It was a long drive, and I was reminded of one of the times I drove across Canada with my parents. I was sixteen. Ontario had just made it legal for women to be topless. In celebration of the equality that represents, my mother went topless as we drove through the province. Do you know how big Ontario is? It takes a long time to drive from one side to the other. I was mortified.

That kind of behaviour is outlandish. A category in which I have numerous entries. Perhaps there's hope for me yet.