Showing posts with label childhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label childhood. Show all posts

Thursday, 1 March 2012

You Probably Shan't Go To The Ball, But What Does That Matter?

I heard today that some mothers want to ban their children from reading such stories as Cinderella. Though I can see wherer they're coming from - poor down-trodden Cinders does all the housework but in end is unrealistically rewarded with man, money blah blah... - to me, banning ancient stories is madness.

It's fair to say that I think the whole 'Disney Princess' bullshit that my daughter so loves is wrong, in many ways. Disney has a lot to answer for. The shallow ideals of the stories, all the tat merchandise that is bought, making her think she is beautiful because she looks like any one of these characters. I'm all for her learning through roleplay & makebelieve but where do I draw the line? Yeah, I do wish I could stop it sometimes & I do my best to limit it. She is beautiful as she is, a pretty little girl in her little girl dresses. Children are innocent & they should remain so for as long as possible, in my opinion. Of course I'm not saying you should not educate your children in the ways of the world, but you must allow them the freedom to enjoy their childhood for as long as they need & for as long as is appropriate. Isn't that what we all want for out children? But is controlling what they are exposed to allowing them full enjoyment of childhood? I suppose that would entirely depend on what society lobs their way.

I detest the way in which our society encourages adults & children alike to buy into all this bullshit & think that being as grown up & beautiful & unrealistically successful is what they should strive for. For Christmas this year, at the tender age of three my daughter received presents of make up. I was appauled. But why should I be? I wear make up, I conform to society's expectations of me & I feel bad when I go out in public with bad skin & no face on. It is a fact of society & though I would like to change it, I cannot & so I do conform to an extent. This is not to say that I am a pacifist, far from it, but all this comes from somewhere. We want to look good in order to find a mate & reproduce, like many other creatures on this planet & this is our way of doing it & we have to accept this to a degree, however I do believe that there is way too much pressure on women & increasingly on men too to look unnaturally good & to live their lives in a certain, plastic way. Pressure to mutilate our bodies in order to please others. This is a step too far & I am afraid that it stems from an exposure to media from an early age. There is nothing I can do to stop the pressure that will inevitably be put onto my girls, but I can limit how they are exposed to it - we never owned a TV until we moved in with my OH, but even so, the girls hardly watch it. Maybe once a week, if that. They hardly want to either, but that is not to say they don't enjoy what they do watch. Sometimes I feel as though I should control what others buy the girls too but unfortunately I cannot, without being a dickhead about it - & what kind if example would that set? There is a fine line.

What I can do is provide them with the knowledge, love & example they need to become strong individuals in the future. This is what I strive to do anyway. I will paint Eldest's fingernails occasionally, if I am doing mine - its fun & she enjoys showing off - & I will be teaching her how to cook & do the laundry (hell, the sooner she learns the sooner it saves me a job!) but equally I'll be teaching her how to put up a shelf & change a washer in a tap (notably these are things that I can do but my OH can't. Just saying...) & all these things I would do regardless of the sex of my children.

The point that I am trying to make in a very round about way is that banning our children from these things is all very well, but where is the faith in our own skills as parents? Where is the faith in our children's intelligence? Faith that they will grow up & work out, as we have, that life isn't like a fairytale? Just because life is not so, it doesn't mean we can't enjoy whimsical tales of princesses, ogres, & kingdoms far, far away. The most important thing we can do for our precious ones is to allow them their enjoyment, giving them as much stimulation in all aspects of life & play for now & equip them with the skills, information & example they need to make their own decisions about the big bad world. Surely?

As I type, my eldest is playing at soft play, wearing a builders hat. That's my girl!

As for banning Cinders, well the unimaginative, westernised Disney bollocks...



...I couldn't give a toss about to be entriely honest, but I grew up with this beautiful version. One of the many childhood books & illustrations that fired my creative passions:



Now that, my friends, is what a handsome prince should really look like.

All in all, I think as long as we do our jobs correctly as parents, girls & boys can enjoy a wealth of traditional & contemporary stories. There is no harm in that.


Saturday, 7 January 2012

Day 7 of 366: Here Kitty, Kitty!

Today, Kitty got stuck up a rather large tree.




Have a lovely weekend folks!

Wednesday, 4 January 2012

Day 4 of 366: Love & Junk.

Four days in (well, I started a day late, so technically three) & I'm enjoying actually having something to think about! Posting a picture every day has got me pondering about what is important to me & what I have surrounding me. Currently, I haven't really left my dining room to take a photo. Since having a jolly good post-Christmas tidy it has become my little safe haven & I like it! I have my laptop & my radio & Eldest has her toys & plenty of space to make mess. I may have mentioned before that I don't really watch TV & so when I lived alone I didn't have one. The man, of course has a gigantic one ("Whheeeyyy!") as men do, which now dominates the living room & so it makes me happy to have my own tranquil room & to be surrounded by things I love.

I wouldn't say I'm shallow or materialistic but I love stuff. Junk, mainly (pretty junk), as well as meaningful objects & I do tend to get quite attached to & sentimental about all my shit. As I was taking a look around I realised that amongst all my stuff-I-love I don't actually have any photographs, except for the four that I keep on the notice board. I have a hard-drive full of photos, of course I do, but I have no framed family shots, nothing like that. Besides the fact that we're just not that kind of family - I don't think we've ever had a photo of us all together, & not through lack of love - I can't see much point in displaying photos of people who are so deeply rooted in my heart & mind & I find no creativity in bland, mass-produced frames bearing posed, fake-smile pictures propped up on mantelpieces & the such. I much prefer my tatty, pin-punctured snaps which sit as comfortably on the notice board as they do in my soul.

Photos, are still important to me & I love nothing more than to look through ancient photos of relatives & remark at the crazy hairstyles & fashion; to see who gave so  & so their nose; to be amazed at how much is passed on from generation to generation & inevitably I will look at the stuff that surrounds these people & say "Oh gosh, do you remember that sofa? I bounced on it so much it eventually gave in!" or "You used to love that Teddy, Eldest has it now." & that is why, for me, stuff is important & integral to who I am. Memories are held in the stuff I surround myself with & the possessions of my loved ones & I hope that this will be the same for my children. Every time I look at an ink picture done by my Mum, or a pencil topper made by my Great Aunt & the various other things which I have 'acquired' from them over the years it reminds me of the wonderful innate creativity the women of my family possess. When I visit my Grandfather I see the (horrid) antique porcelain figures sat on his mantelpiece & I am a four year old child again, peering as closely as possible at all the tiny details on the women's dresses & feeling the spiky, delicate ruffles of the men's tunics. This, for me, is precious.

 Above: Dad & I. I look just like Eldest here. Shame we were at the hunt (not something I approve of)
Below Left: My oldest friend & I at my 6th? Birthday. Below Middle: Eldest & my hand, conkering. Below Right: Mum & I, before the races. Swish.