Mom Toni Nagy loses control of her 4-year-old’s addiction to all-things pink and purple and princess and animated inspired.
I knew exactly what kind of mother I would be. I’d rub my rounding belly with shea butter dusted sunflower oil, convinced of my future as Gaia incarnate. My baby would be born in a yurt adorned with puka shells while I sang primal songs to grandmother moon. My indigo child would dress in fair trade flaxseed fibers as she wistfully identified mushrooms on the forest floor. Together we would harvest organic biodynamic bounty and play with gender-neutral wooden toys whittled by woodland elves. I would smile smugly knowing I wasn’t only part of the solution, I was the solution.
My parenting ideology stemmed from growing up in a generation that feels the impending doom of the world coming to an end in a fiery, climate-altered, virus-ridden, war-induced apocalypse. I was scared for the future of my child and felt a major responsibility to be environmentally, politically and socially responsible. I refused to take for granted the notion that human survival is guaranteed, and I vowed to raise my child to be hyperaware of her footprint on planet Earth.
Things started out OK. Before my daughter talked or had opinions of her own, I was able to impose my philosophical beliefs on her. Of course, she also would poop her pants while trying to eat the cat’s tail, but we had an understanding. But there were two primary situations I didn’t anticipate regarding parenthood. The first being how easily my daughter would be influenced by the outside world. It never occurred to me that a huge part of her conditioning would be beyond my control, or that someone (ahem, her grandmother) might give her a cookie without my permission, catalyzing a sugar addiction comparable to being hooked on black tar heroin.
The second surprise was how annoying kids can be when they want something.
It started innocently enough with “screen time.” Originally my vision was that my daughter would entertain herself by banging sticks together and learning birdcalls of indigenous species. Then one day, someone (ahem, her grandmother) let her watch some little jerk named Caillou on PBS. The seal was broken. Not only did my child discover the magic of TV, but so did I. She was quiet and not asking me to do anything for her. A calm swept over the room, corrupting us both. Of course like any rational parent, there were limitations and boundaries, but at the same time I was increasingly morphing into a total hypocrite.
The more my daughter was exposed to mass media marketing, the more her interest in commercial merchandise skyrocketed. The desire for what she saw overtook any rational conversation about why it wasn’t necessary. She fell into the PR trap of believing that consumer goods would somehow fill the existential hole in her soul—that or she just really liked neon pink plastic. Without my consent, my daughter’s impressionable mind was taken over by Disney Princesses, Care Bears, Hello Kitty and My Little Pony.
My child’s interests in corporate mass marketing resulted in an adamant and controlling nature about certain aspects of her life—mainly clothes. I would try and force taupe-colored natural fibers over her squirming body, but she was old enough to take off clothes she didn’t want to wear and exasperating enough to drive me insane. “I WANT TO WEAR AN ELSA PRINCESS DRESS FROM FROZEN, MOMMY!”
My solution to avoid this daily drama was to get her all the Hello Kitty/Disney Princess clothes she wanted. I buried my knowledge that these items were more than likely made in a sweatshop with toxic dyes, or how she was perpetuating gender stereotypes. I’m not proud of this fact. I would say to myself, “Hey Toni, you are doing the best you can. You drive a hybrid car, talk incessantly about female empowerment and your recycling system puts Al Gore to shame.” But I knew the truth. I was a total fraud because I took the easy route, but at least my kid was wearing rain boots willingly because of some stupid white cat with a dumb bow in its hair.
Here is my plea to the world: Hey, organic companies! Can you stop making all your clothes in ecru? Would it kill you to use purple, or put a semi-slutty princess on a T-shirt? While you are at it, can you also get into media and make some crappy cartoons? And hey, mega corporations! How about your CEOs don’t make 331times more than the average worker? How about if you stop exploiting people in the developing world and partner with eco-driven companies to make products that don’t desecrate the planet? Thanks!
