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Tuesday, January 30, 2007

I saw Satan on TV (and he's a little dork)

by Tracee Sioux

I was watching a PBS documentary, Secret History of the Credit Card, when Andrew Kahr appeared on my screen and my first impression was, "Huh, that's not at all how I pictured Satan". I thought he would be a sexy and dangerous "bad boy." This little weasel was short and scrawny and a total dork.

Kahr, a credit card industry consultant, makes the Mafia look like Girl Scouts. He was touting some of his achievements: convincing credit card companies to drop the minimum payment to two percent, thus enslaving borrowers with more interest for much, much longer. He's also the evil genius who started the zero percent mass mailings that nearly everyone has fallen for at least once (you know where if you don't pay in full by the due date the interest goes up to 30% and is retroactive). Also one of his favorites is raising your interest rate arbitrarily on money you have already borrowed because of some obscure information they have received about other of your credit accounts, without having to justify themselves. He's also the little demon who kept thinking up great "fees" to appear on your bill and then gather still more interest.

Now, this bit of information doesn't directly affect me because I don't have and never will have another credit card as long as I live. Mind you, that's not because I'm exceptionally wealthy or particularly financially savvy. Mostly it's because I've tasted first-hand the bitter-bitter fruit of credit card debt and come out the other end of a bankruptcy. I've paid all the stupid tax to those loan sharks I ever intend to pay.

Before you go thinking, well, of course you don't have credit cards they won't give you anymore after a bankruptcy - think again. We weren't two months out of our bankruptcy before we began receiving the same avalanche of credit card offers in the mail. We are actually their preferred customers, contrary to their statements (read: big fat lies) in front of the current Senate Banking Committee investigation into credit card practices.

We're exactly who they look for in a customer. We, and probably you too, meet all the desirable credit card customer criteria:

1. We want more than we can afford to buy.
2. We don't make enough to buy what is considered basic stuff for the American middle-class lifestyle like a house and decent cars.
3. We are gainfully employed and therefore have an income to pay minimum payments with.
4. We graduated from high school and college without an understanding of how they calculate an APR or any other interest. Also without any understanding of how much money we could actually make in our careers.
5. We are forever hopeful and optimistic about our future earning potential, meaning since we expect to make more money in the future and work towards that goal, we believe we'll be able to make future payments with greater ease.

The Senate Banking Committee is Examining the Billing, Marketing, and Disclosure Practices of the Credit Card Industry, and Their Impact on Consumers, in their current hearings on Credit Card Practices. I would love to be more optimistic about any legislative bills that result from this, but mostly I heard a lot of qualifying about how credit cards are good for Americans, even though there are some disturbing trends.

The chairman of this committee is headed by Senator Christopher J. Dodd, a Democrat from Connecticut. He makes a statement on his website supporting credit card companies even while he investigates their questionable practices.

"I support them. I strongly believe in the product and its potential to give consumers greater convenience and access to capital."

He goes on to warn:

"If you currently engage in any business practice that you would be ashamed to discuss before this Committee, I would strongly encourage you to cease and desist that practice. Irrespective of the current legality of such practices, you should take a long, hard look at how you treat your customers, both in the short term and the long term."

Wouldn't it be lovely if strong encouragement was all it took for amoral and emotionless credit card corporations to stop screwing the American family? Not to mention that Satan himself, Kahr, is a kajillionaire precisely because he could care less about the nightmare many families face every day at the mailbox.

Unfortunately, we live in a world where debt and credit card companies are the biggest reason couples get divorced. More than half the couples in this country are divorcing. Now, since I had to take College Algebra rather than anything useful like "how to manage your personal finances," I can't do the math of exactly how many actual families are destroyed by credit cards and their evil poster boy Kahr. But, I can tell you that if half the families are breaking up over debt and money problems then America is suffering from some pretty serious mental and emotional issues that center around money and we need to get a handle on it.

The average family living in the United States has over $9,300 of credit card debt. In comparison, the median household income was about $46,000 in 2005. So for all the people out there who find themselves in debt anxiety, otherwise known as hell - and statistically, that's most of you - don't hate your spouse, hate Andrew Kahr and the credit card companies that employ him.

Also, get some help. My husband and I took an invaluable course called Financial Peace University that educated us about personal finances and it's changed the way we manage our own money. Dave Ramsey teaches the course in little satellite classes on DVD that are offered in community centers and churches all over the country. The class costs about $100 depending on how many students enroll and I promise you will make up that $100 in your first year of Zero Based Budgeting.

To Dodd and his Senate Banking Committee, I think I'd like to see less strong encouragement and more actual LAWS to govern the corrupt credit card industry. I'd also like to see Andrew Kahr given a life-sentence to solitary confinement for the horrible crimes against humanity he has committed - the committee should at least fine him a kajillion dollars.

And for Heaven's sake don't click on all the Google ads that will pop up on this blog as a result of my writing about a credit card problem. You don't want any more cards, credit is not your friend, and I don't need the income from clicks to credit card ads.

To find the Financial Peace University course nearest you just enter your zip code at this link:
http://www.daveramsey.com/

To find out more about the terrible trauma Andrew Kahr has directly caused in your life:
www.answers.com/topic/andrew-kahr

To find out more about the Senate Banking Commitee Hearing on Credit Card Practices, maybe even shoot him an email:
http://dodd.senate.gov/

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

Shut Up John Mayer, Stop Waiting On the World to Change











by Tracee Sioux

The hit song, Waiting on the World to Change by John Mayer, is about political apathy and I am declaring that it's time to change our tune as Americans.

Even as a political science major with an obvious interest in politics and social change, I have been just as guilty as anyone of political apathy over the last 7 years of George W. Bush's Presidency. Republicans ruled the House of Representatives, the United States Congress, appointed a majority on the Supreme Court, and controlled the Presidency of the United States. It seems all I, as a democrat, could do was wait patiently for power to swing back in our direction. I still voted, but let's face it, I live in Texas, a very conservative Republican state and I didn't harbor any illusions after 9/11 that power was going to swing in the direction of my kind any time soon.

But, now that New York Democratic Senator Hillary Clinton has announced that she will be seeking the office of President in 2008 and Illinois Democratic Senator Barack Obama will soon announce the same, it is time to stop waiting and start influencing the world to change.

I am inviting all democrats, black and white, male and female to join me in refusing to vote for one more white middle-aged man in 2008! Sorry, John Edwards but, your kind has ruled this country since it's inception and that fact has a negative influence on the possibilities for girls and minority kids. My vote will be to end the reign of white men in 2008.

Now, I don't have a thing against middle-aged white men in general. My father is one, my husband is one, my son will one day be one and my brothers and brothers-in-law, grandfathers and cousins are all inhabit the bodies of white-middle-aged men. But, I am advocating voting the gender-line or the race-line rather than the party-line in the 2008 Presidential Elections as a valid and legitimate political position.

A few weeks ago I was having dinner with a bunch of visiting relatives when a cousin of mine asked me how my younger brother was. I reported that he is working as a financial analyst for Maracopa County in Phoenix, recently bought a condo with his new wife and is expecting his first baby. I joked that my brother Klint is the only person I know who still seriously thinks he might become President of the United States and therefore probably won't be satisfied with financial analysis for too long.

My husband then shocked me by saying, "I could be President of the United States one day, I haven't entirely given up the idea."

To which I couldn't help laughing hysterically and saying, "I hate to be the one who tells you, but there is no way on God's Green Earth that you will ever be the President of the United States."

I was bewildered that my response would even come close to hurting my husband's feelings, but it did. He felt I wasn't being a very supportive wife.

After asking around I realized that having seen white men, sometimes pretty average white men, achieve the highest political office in the land had a profoundly positive effect on boys as they grew up and pursued higher education and landed jobs. They truly believed in their innermost selves that the Presidency was attainable to them. They would, after all, grow up to be white middle-aged men and they had as much chance as anyone else of achieving this ultimate ambition.

I, quite conversely, never believed this was a goal that was even remotely attainable to me. Forming my formative self in the '70s, in the midst of the women's revolution in a highly conservative household, where my parents both voted NO to the Equal Rights Amendment, thereby denying women (ME) equal rights under the Constitution of the United States, it was radical that I even thought I might be able to pursue a career when I grew up.

My son, like my husband and little brother, has only to look in a history book and see the 43 white men who have become the President to believe that he's got a chance. My daughter, however, has only to look at the same page and see that this is a possibility that she is, fairly or not, excluded from.

So, this election I urge everyone, even white, middle-aged men, to cast their vote for our daughters. A vote for Hillary means a vote for Possibility. The possibility that 50 percent of the population, females, might believe us when we tell them that if they work hard, stay in school and get good grades, they too might achieve the office of United States President.

And if Hillary doesn't win the primary, vote for ALL the minority kids out there and the possibility that they might be anything they want to be when they grow up.

Ideally, I would love to see Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama on the same ticket, president and vice-president, woman and man, white and black, giving every kid in America the same hope, the same possibility, the same ambition and the same belief that they can be anything they want to be when they grow up.
To order a bumper sticker for $6 email me

Pictures of 43 Presidents of the United States
http://www.whitehouse.gov/history/presidents/

Vote for Hillary Clinton
http://www.hillaryclinton.com/

Encourage Barack Obama to run for President
http://www.barackobama.com/?gclid=CJibwrGT94kCFSj0IgodYUz5QQ

Encourage my brother, Klint Johnson, to run for President
http://www.klintandjanet.com/

Friday, January 19, 2007

In Defense of What I Did All Day

By Tracee Sioux

My husband, bless his soul, has been giving me crap about why the house isn't spotless every day when he comes home from work.

While this may be dull and monotonous to everyone else, hopefully it will enlighten him to my true role as "housewife," as he likes to refer to me. Actually, I hope it will enlighten him to my "mothering" skills, which is how I prefer to think about what I do around here.

6:45 am to 7:30 am - Am handed crying baby and bottle by husband who is trying to get ready for work. Zack has a cold and can't breathe well enough to even drink his bottle so going back to sleep is out of the question. Older sister, asleep next to me due to cold, is awakened and refuses to go back to sleep either. Wrestle with Zack to get nose drops up his nose, search the house for the snot sucker, fight with screaming baby to suck the mucus out of his nose. Still can't breathe, take baby and self into hot shower hoping steam with drain some mucus, 5 year old demanding to get into hot water with mom and brother cause she's cold and has stuffy nose too. Try to manage the three of us under small amount of water without touching freezing wall of shower. Give up and opt for bath. Sit down in bath and realize before it gets full that we have already run out of hot water. Get all kids out of bath and get self and two kids dressed in warm fleece clothes as we have no central heat and "warm" this time of year simply isn't going to happen.

Get coffee. Get daughter sore throat suckers for cold.

Collect load of laundry from all over house. Tell daughter to go get her dirty clothes and bring them to me. Argue about whether her favorite nightgown is dirty and needs washing. Tell daughter to put her slippers and socks on. Insist both go on. Start load.

Realize must get sewing machine and projects off kitchen table to be able to fold laundry. Sit down and sew two throw pillows from scrap materials. Put sewing machine and projects under kitchen table. Wipe table off to put clean clothes there.

Try to give baby tsp of Tussin. Clean Tussin baby spit all over floor. Look for syringe to make baby take tsp of Tussing. Apply Baby Vicks to nostrils, suck snot out of screaming baby's nose. Try to get Zack to eat Bananas. Zack spits out bananas.

Let baby crawl around on floor. Following me around whining.

Go to the bathroom and tell kids not to disturb me for 5 minutes as I didn't have time to poop yesterday and I feel cranky and backed up.

Feel better. Brush teeth. Tell daughter to turn off TV and brush teeth and find something more productive to do.

Turn on her computer learning game.

Hang bar over stove with drill, hang pans on bar. Unscrew ugly screws from wall now that we don't need them.

Smell something fowl and change baby's poopy diaper. Find pacifier, special blanky and attempt to get sick baby down for nap. Can't breathe. Suck his nose again. Try for nap again. Wants more cuddle since he's sick. Tell daughter to stop asking me for stuff while I try to get Zack to take a nap.

9 am to 11 am - switch out laundry. Help daughter get frozen fruit to much on. Turn the computer game on again. Teach her the value of a mouse pad to move the math. Read directions for learning game, sit with her and encourage her when she gets the first few right.

Baby wakes up after only 20 minutes. Try to feed him again. No go. Put back down for nap. Go outside and haul more stuff in from the car. Open box to build kitchen island to further organize kitchen.

Fold laundry. Load more laundry. Force feed Tussin in baby, this time trapping him on his back so he can't spit out so easily. Wipe Tussin off baby's face and clothes and floor.

Look all over house for wrench. Check the car, while I'm there, check the mail. Wash throw pillow covers from couch, starting to stink. Tell daughter she may change clothes and watch TV. Try to build island again. A few more screws. Teach daughter difference between Philips head and Flat head screwdriver, allow her to practice gross motor skills with screw driver. Teach her to read directions, pointing out subtleties of IKEA diagrams.

Answer daughters complaints of hunger by saying, "just a minute, let me just get this done." Daughter goes to fridge, finds herself salad, makes me one too. What a great self-sufficient kid! Shower her with praise and compliments for independence and helping and thinking of mommy too.

Get mirror from wall to entertain baby while I work.

Baby wants food again. Make him oatmeal, sugar, ice. Daughter sees fun game on TV.

Mommy do you want to play a game

I would love to, but I really need to feed Zack, get the laundry and dishes done, finish building an island, then we need to go grocery shopping.


Okay well let me just tell you about the game." It's the hot, cold, getting hotter, getting colder game where you hide something and the other person has to find it.

Realize the educational value of the game being one of deductive reasoning reading verbal and non-verbal cues.

Agree that I will play the game while I feed the baby, myself, put island together, and fold clothes. Hide bear in clean laundry, hide it in daddy's slacks pocket, again in the dish towel drawer, again in the dishwasher. Finish salad, fold clothes, let baby munch on cheerios. Put baby back on floor. Forget we're playing the game and realize I can't do everything all at once. Tell her we will play again later.

Let her help me put the wheels on the island. Retrieve an unknown object from baby's mouth.

Change another poopy diaper. Fill box where diapers go with new diapers. Go to the bathroom. Sit down and blog for exactly 15 minutes. Going back to work on island before baby needs another nap and while daughter is dressing up dolls in her room.

noon - Go to the kitchen floor and screw four pieces of wood together to make the underside of a shelf.

Zack, don't put the bracket in your mouth.
no no noo
Zack no
no Zack
I said no
Ainsley come get your brother please
Zack get off the instructions, I have to see the diagram

Ainsley I told you several times already, it is too cold to wear that nightgown, if you want to wear it put on long pants and a long shirt under it. I don't want to tell you again.

Make mental note about needing toilet paper, formula, milk, cabbage at the grocery store. Out of coffee.

Drying stopped. Every 30 seconds starting again to remind me to fold the clothes. Finish brackets. Fold Clothes, put more in wash. Remember there are wet clothes spoiling in the floorboard of the car. Ask Ainsley to put her shoes on and go get them so I can wash them. Ask her to bring back the laundry basket from her room that she took there to put her clothes away. Realize by Zack's babbling and moaning that he needs another nap. Collect him, find his pacifier and blanket again. Take him to his room and sway until he falls asleep. Pray he stays asleep for a while so I can get things done. Make him bottle, let him drink it in the crib and hope he falls asleep. Empty diaper pail so kid's room doesn't smell of poo.

I'm getting tired and it's 12:43 pm. Still haven't brushed my hair. Look around the house. Half an island and all the packaging is on the kitchen floor. Living room floor is littered with baby toys, daughters hats, shoes, coats, clothes, school work, markers, crayons, books, bags, dolls, horses and bears. Bottles and sippy cups are in the bathroom, kitchen, and living room. Ainsley has dropped a salad fork where she was eating at the computer. Dishes are piled up, dirty towels are here and there.

Back to the island.

Mom, did you put that notebook thing somewhere, mom, mom, mom, mom remember when you gave me that notepad thing and said I could have it - did you put it somewhere else?

I don't know where that ended up and I don't have time to look for it right now.

Mom, can I make something else for myself to eat?

Sure.

Daughter makes another salad singing:

"Cabbage chicken salad, they like it everywhere, cabbage chicken salad, they like it because it's so good and it's so healthy!"

Make Ainsley h0ld the hooks on while I screw them in so I can get leverage. And then again.

Finally, kitchen island finished. Hang mirror that was back splash above stove in hall at Baby Zack's level so he can experiment with his reflection. Measured wrong 5 times, tried again 5 times. Baby Zack wakes up and cries while watching me from his crib.

It's okay Zack, I'll be there in a minute, just let me finish this.

Ask 5 year old to put away screwdrivers and tools, help clean up packaging and clean mirror for Zack. Put aside packaging I can use later in top of my closet, cardboard for mailing pictures and bags to reuse later for trash. Reorganize pots and pans and dishtowels on kitchen island.

Retrieve baby, check for fever, look at clock to see if it's time for more medicine. Can't remember when I last gave it to him.

Remind Ainsley for second time to start picking her toys up. She's distracted by reorganizing her office. Tells me just wait until I just gets my desk all clean and stuff.

Another load of laundry to fold. Can't put off going to Sams Warehouse, don't have enough formula to make it through tonight, used last of it for nap. Also out of milk, so can't substitute.

Tell Ainsley to put on warmer clothes so we can go to the store, also tell her to brush teeth and hair and put on her shoes and boots. Tell her 3 times, will fold clothes while she does that. Won't have time to put on makeup or fix my hair. Zack will get hungry if we dawdle.

Brush your hair. Zack's got your salad, better get it before you have a big mess to clean up. Zack look, you can bang on these pots to make cool music, like drums. There's Zacky in the mirror, that's you! What a good looking fellow. Just stick a hat on your head and let's go! Wear a coat, you're already sick! Please stop banging on the pots you two, I'm getting a headache. Zack! Do you stink AGAIN?

In the car we learn about right and left and traffic signals. While shopping we discuss what is and is not healthy. We learn to pick healthy chips versus unhealthy ones, we compare prices. We use our math skills while we look at how much comes in a box and which is the best price. We learn that we don't buy strawberries in January because they don't grow in the winter and so are too expensive for us. On the way home we do another deductive reasoning guessing game - "I have something glass and colorful and round in my pocket, guess what's in my pocket," It is 4 pm when we get home, Zack is napping again. Ainsley helps me bring in the groceries.

I teach her to use the butcher knife and divide 10 pounds of beef to put in smaller bags and freeze. She learns that if you make 10 cuts you get 11 pieces of beef. She also learns that hamburger is dead chopped up cows. Gross.

She grabs a yogurt for a snack and I finish putting the groceries away. It's 5 pm and my husband will be headed home.

The house is not clean. There is stuff all over the living room. There is a load of clothes waiting to be folded. Another is still in the washer. There is not a chance in the world that I will be able to get the laundry done and put away, the living room picked up and the mound of dishes loaded in the dishwasher. Oh, and have dinner ready. It just can't happen in an hour, especially since Zack will wake up in the next half hour and demand my attention with wet diapers, painful teething, stuffy nose and empty stomach. And I am dog tired, beyond exhaustion. I've not had time to brush my hair or eat a snack or sit down to rest, I even ate lunch while folding laundry.

Jeremy will walk in the door and what he will see is everything I haven't got done today. The dishes will annoy him, the toys littering the living room will irritate him, the not-quite-finished laundry will seem a mystery to him. This is the evidence that I am a substandard "housewife."

The imperative difference is in how we interpret my day. I do not see myself as a housewife primarily. I see my function as one of being a mother. Mothering is the primary function of why I'm staying home rather than out there earning a living to raise our standard of living.

I am raising two people here. I am doing it conscientiously with a very specific goal in mind. They will be good people, able to be productive members of society. They will know how to take care of themselves, they will have confidence and a sense of self that will see them through adolescence and early adulthood. They will become good parents who know how to nurture and care for others.

The evidence of what I do all day isn't apparent when you come in the front door. But, I'm teaching my daughter how to read before Kindergarten and she can add numbers and count and write and spell.

My kids have learned about cooperation and compassion and helping and working as a team today. They have learned how to find something to eat if they are hungry. They have learned what a healthy snack is. They learned patience and how to read body language and how to reason given limited information. They have learned to love learning through playing. They have learned they have the ability to make music. They have learned responsibility. They have learned about language and proper speaking and manners and worked on their cognitive skills. They have practiced their motor development skills and learned how to keep a beat. They have worked on their math and their reading. They have learned about following directions. They have learned that I am available to them, and empathetic and compassionate when it comes to their needs. They have learned to wear warmer clothes when it is cold to avoid getting sick. They have learned to have fun while working. They have learned to recycle and reuse to improve the environment. They have learned where meat comes from. They have learned how to divide. They have learned how many months until their next birthday, learning the order of the months.

I look back on my day as a raging success because I see my primary function as mothering. My role is not an underpaid babysitter, maid and cook. What I do all day has worth - real eternal value that is significant and important. I'm going as fast as I can and working my ass off. I didn't get an hour for lunch or two 15 minute breaks either. I didn't even get to poop without interruption this morning.

Perhaps if my husband were to see my contributions of mothering as valid and vital in our family life he wouldn't be perpetually disappointed in what a bad housewife I am. But, if he chooses to walk in the door and see everything I didn't do, that's his decision. While his recognition of the value of my mothering would ease some stress in my life, his lack of validation will not change my primary function as a "housewife." I will remain, first and foremost - a mother. I will continue to do my chores as he does the busy work he's required to do at the office - not his first priority, nor mine.

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

Amendment to Beauty Bank Rule

By Tracee Sioux

For practical purposes I must amend my previous post about the sin beauty bank.

The first practical problem being that my daughter is fixating on going out for Chinese. She loves going to Chinese as a great way for us to hang out.

"Mama, can we just call ourselves a bunch of names so we can put a bunch of quarters in the box and go to Chinese today?"

Obviously, I underestimated her cognitive ability to connect saying bad things about ourselves with being rewarded with Chinese food. I think we shall have to go to Chinese first and talk about why it's wrong to say bad things about our selves and our bodies. That both gets the point of what I'm trying to change across and take away the incentive to reward bad behavior.

I have yet to decide what we should then do with our quarters when the box is full. My husband thinks that he should be allowed to take the money and go to Chinese without us. But, I don't think that's a great idea either.

The other practical problem was presented when I told her to put a quarter in the box and she informed me, "I don't have any quarters," and went directly to my purse to get some.

I jumped on this opportunity to get the dusting done. I handed her a duster and told her she would have to earn quarters to put in the bank and told her I'd give her a couple of quarters if she dusted the whole house to my satisfaction.

Another issue I can see cropping up is that I have already used my power of making her pay for bad behavior by making her put a quarter in the bank for constantly and incessantly complaining. So far this is the only quarter she has had to deposit. Is this an abuse of my newly discovered power?

I, on the other hand, have had to deposit a quarter for saying, "I am so stupid" when I pulled out a sweat shirt I really liked and realized I had gotten pink paint on it. I then had to write, "I am smart. It is OK to make mistakes," on a post-it and plop it on the bank.

We're 50 cents into it. I'll keep you posted.

Thursday, January 11, 2007

Princess Ban

By Tracee Sioux

“No princesses, Bratz or Barbie gifts,” read the invitation for my daughter’s 5th birthday party this year. The week before we had gone to the used bookstore and sold all Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, Little Mermaid and Barbie books. She was allowed to pick other, healthier, books to replace them.

I was bracing myself for a big crying fit when I told her we were banning princesses and Barbie. We had never allowed Bratz – because obviously they look like hoochies and they are brats and I certainly don’t want her immolating that kind of garbage. But, really it was all very easy and calm and I think she even enjoyed the extra attention given to her girlness and her ideas of girlness.

“We’re going to the used bookstore,” I told her one morning. “Why don’t you gather up all your princess and Barbi books so we can sell them and get other books.”

“Why can’t I keep my princess books Mommy?” she asked.

“Because all those princesses just sit around waiting for a man, the prince to come save them,” I told her. “And you do not need saving.”

“You can wake yourself up, you don’t need some guy to show up and kiss you to wake yourself from a nightmare,” I said emphatically.

This seemed to make sense to her, as I had already taught her how to wake herself up from a nightmare.

“Well, Belle doesn’t need a guy to wake her up,” she said.

“Belle gets kidnapped and then she turns the beast into a prince with her love,” I explained. “You don’t fall in love with someone who kidnaps or traps you, that’s called Stockholm Syndrome, and I guarantee that if you marry a beast someday, he will stay a beast and never, ever turn into a prince.”

“Ariel doesn’t wait for someone to wake her up,” she said thoughtfully.

“Worse,” I told her. “Ariel gives up her gift of voice and her entire family for the first man she ever sees!”

“You should never give up your gifts to get a man, especially not your voice or your ability to say what you want, and you should never let a man isolate you from your family and you not marry the first man who likes you, you should date a few more to find out what you want,” I responded.

“Cinderella could have rescued herself from her stepmother if she had got good grades and went to college to be a lawyer or a doctor, then she wouldn’t have had to deal with her step mother or her step sisters. She didn’t need Prince Philip to find her glass slipper and marry her away from them. She should have saved herself,” I said.

“What about Barbie?” she asked.

“Barbie doesn’t ever DO anything,” I explained. “She just sits around looking pretty or buying big houses or flashy cars and a bunch of clothes. Really, don’t you think there should be more to life than buying stuff? How does Barbie make the world a better place?”

“I don’t know,” she said.

“Well, I want you to be able to do things for yourself when you grow up,” I told her. “So no more princesses or Barbie.”

“Okay, can I keep this one? It has Alice in Wonderland in it and other stories too,” She asked.

It was an expensive collection of stories my mother had given her and I wasn’t yet ready to offend my mother by selling her gifts to the used bookstore, so I relented.

And we only had to return one set of princess flash cards on her birthday. After a few tears she was pretty happy about the paint set she chose instead. And really, surprisingly, I think she really gets it. I think she really does understand that it’s important for girls to do stuff and not wait around for boys to come save them. Or at least on come cellular level she gets it and my struggle will not have been in vain. Now when we go to the store, she just accepts that it’s a rule. Like not being allowed to buy Bratz or Cheetah girls paraphernalia is a rule because they seem to have lost or grown out of all their clothes.

Sexy

By Tracee Sioux

As the mother of a four-year-old daughter, I have been mentally preparing myself for the eventual discussion about sex. I was going to be open-minded and talk honestly and without fear. I was going to talk about specifics, including feelings, and be open to my daughter’s wish to experiment, though cautioning against too much experimentation too soon. Prepared was I to calm my husband down, explaining that a little education never hurt anyone. What had to be avoided was conveying feelings of shame or embarrassment or shock about the issue. Sex was, after all, invented by God. I would handle the subject without inflicting negative feelings on her sexuality while at the same time cautioning against promiscuity.

“Mama, do you want to have sexy today?” my daughter asked one morning. She’s only FOUR YEARS OLD!

No air in my chest, eyes and mouth opened as I tried to control the shrill shriek of my voice and I asked, “Ainsley, do you know what that means? What do you think ‘sexy’ means?”

“Like kissing and holding hands and wearing a dress and going on a date,” she said.

“Okay, well it’s not something mommies and kids do and it’s not appropriate for four years to talk about,” and for good measure, not to mask my real and legitimate concerns, I added, “Please don’t talk about sexy or sex in front of other kids or they won’t be allowed to play with you anymore.”

And there I was, stunned, terrified, completely unprepared for such an exchange and praying it didn’t come up again until she was at least nine or ten and I could give her a Judy Blume book.

I flashed back to the previous evening’s episode of the Gilmore Girls. Honestly, I thought the show was innocuous, even good for us to watch an example of affectionate mother-daughter dialogue. I vaguely remember doing something else while the character Ling discussed having sex with her boyfriend. Virginity was winning the battle, but the word sex was probably uttered at least 20 times.

I started paying closer attention to what got into her little brain. I noticed behavior that felt more dangerous than cute, as it had only the day before.

I took notice of the provocative poses on the cover of magazines in line at grocery stores, in the images of Disney princesses and Jessica Simpson sauntering around singing about snack foods on commercials.

I heard her say, “I’m her,” when she saw Pamela Anderson in a commercial for her TV show Stacked. Pamela Anderson! Not even on my worst, most self-loathing day have I wanted to emulate Pamela Anderson. Never have I wished to be so gaudily female and so, well, Barbie-like and unnatural and made-up and plastic.

My daughter is taking in all the images of womanhood she’s presented and picking up on an unattainable, and I think, unattractive, exaggerated version of girlness.

Overnight I felt like a failure at filtering terrible distorted images of women, and far too inadequate to handle the question of “sexiness” and femininity. I became almost certain that she would inevitably find herself in therapy attempting to fix all the damage we’ve done to her by not sheltering her from every sexual or provocative image and then reacting to her curiosity in the worst way possible – with shock and terror.

“Ignore it, at four she doesn’t need any more information. Just tell her it’s not appropriate for her to talk about,” has been the advice from all I’ve consulted.

Still, it – the issue of sexiness and sex – hasn’t gone away. In fact, she seems to be more preoccupied with it.

I lashed out in fear turned to anger one day and hissed, “You don’t need to be posing provocatively, do you understand me? You are only four-years-old and that’s simply not appropriate.”

Having overheard me, my husband responded, “She doesn’t even need to know the word ‘provocative.’”

He’s right, but I can’t think of an appropriate four-year-old synonym for sexy or provocative.

My original fear was realized when my friend informed me that the last time our children played together that Ainsley struck a pose and said, “I’m sexiest.”

To which I took my girl aside and said, “you better not use the words sexy, sex, sexiest or anything like it around those kids or you will be in big trouble. Huge! And don’t you do any posing with your hips or bottom out either!”

“No,” my friend said, “It’s never come up with my kids. You should probably keep telling her not to talk about it, but she’s definitely too young for more information.”

Further investigation illuminates that my friends' method is to use a way more intense filter than ours. They turn off the TV when commercials come on. They flip the covers of magazines over when standing in line at stores. They tell their kids to turn away from billboards that contain provocative images of the body. They even withdrew their kid from private Christian school when a fellow kindergartener offered to show him her boobs.

Not only does this seem like an awful lot of effort, but their goal as parents is vastly different from ours. They are raising their daughters to grow into being submissive wives. Were we to ban every negative image of womanhood we would include that of a blindly submissive wife. Using the criteria that bans sexiness, unattainable prettiness and servant-like wifeliness, what images of femininity would be left? Stern schoolmarm? It is unlikely such images will hold much appeal for our daughter. They certainly don’t hold much attraction for me.

For now I’m sticking to a few little lies about sex like, “Sex is something that mommies and daddies do,” and a few poignant truths, “four-year-olds don’t need to worry, or talk about, things like sexiness.” Let’s hope I come up with something better when she’s nine or ten.

I’m also going to be more vigilant about what images of femininity she is exposed to. Within reason.

The findings in the 2005 Dove Campaign for Real Beauty Global Survey give me hope. While 97 percent of girls by the time they are 15-years-old want to change something about their bodies, it also shows that most girls are taking their cues from their mothers. Actually it’s a three-way tie between mothers, media and girlfriends, which is both frightening and hopeful. If mothers are an early pivotal influence on how daughters feel about themselves, then I had better start watching what I say about myself, women and beauty in general.

Next time my daughter says “I’m her” when she is taken with an overly-perfect picture of womanhood I’m going to say, “No, you’re you, and that’s better. In fact, that’s perfect.”

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

I saw Satan on TV (and he's a little dork)

by Tracee Sioux

I was watching a PBS documentary, Secret History of the Credit Card, when Andrew Kahr appeared on my screen and my first impression was, "Huh, that's not at all how I pictured Satan". I thought he would be a sexy and dangerous "bad boy." This little weasel was short and scrawny and a total dork.

Kahr, a credit card industry consultant, makes the Mafia look like Girl Scouts. He was touting some of his achievements: convincing credit card companies to drop the minimum payment to two percent, thus enslaving borrowers with more interest for much, much longer. He's also the evil genius who started the zero percent mass mailings that nearly everyone has fallen for at least once (you know where if you don't pay in full by the due date the interest goes up to 30% and is retroactive). Also one of his favorites is raising your interest rate arbitrarily on money you have already borrowed because of some obscure information they have received about other of your credit accounts, without having to justify themselves. He's also the little demon who kept thinking up great "fees" to appear on your bill and then gather still more interest.

Now, this bit of information doesn't directly affect me because I don't have and never will have another credit card as long as I live. Mind you, that's not because I'm exceptionally wealthy or particularly financially savvy. Mostly it's because I've tasted first-hand the bitter-bitter fruit of credit card debt and come out the other end of a bankruptcy. I've paid all the stupid tax to those loan sharks I ever intend to pay.

Before you go thinking, well, of course you don't have credit cards they won't give you anymore after a bankruptcy - think again. We weren't two months out of our bankruptcy before we began receiving the same avalanche of credit card offers in the mail. We are actually their preferred customers, contrary to their statements (read: big fat lies) in front of the current Senate Banking Committee investigation into credit card practices.

We're exactly who they look for in a customer. We, and probably you too, meet all the desirable credit card customer criteria:

1. We want more than we can afford to buy.
2. We don't make enough to buy what is considered basic stuff for the American middle-class lifestyle like a house and decent cars.
3. We are gainfully employed and therefore have an income to pay minimum payments with.
4. We graduated from high school and college without an understanding of how they calculate an APR or any other interest. Also without any understanding of how much money we could actually make in our careers.
5. We are forever hopeful and optimistic about our future earning potential, meaning since we expect to make more money in the future and work towards that goal, we believe we'll be able to make future payments with greater ease.

The Senate Banking Committee is Examining the Billing, Marketing, and Disclosure Practices of the Credit Card Industry, and Their Impact on Consumers, in their current hearings on Credit Card Practices. I would love to be more optimistic about any legislative bills that result from this, but mostly I heard a lot of qualifying about how credit cards are good for Americans, even though there are some disturbing trends.

The chairman of this committee is headed by Senator Christopher J. Dodd, a Democrat from Connecticut. He makes a statement on his website supporting credit card companies even while he investigates their questionable practices.

"I support them. I strongly believe in the product and its potential to give consumers greater convenience and access to capital."

He goes on to warn:

"If you currently engage in any business practice that you would be ashamed to discuss before this Committee, I would strongly encourage you to cease and desist that practice. Irrespective of the current legality of such practices, you should take a long, hard look at how you treat your customers, both in the short term and the long term."

Wouldn't it be lovely if strong encouragement was all it took for amoral and emotionless credit card corporations to stop screwing the American family? Not to mention that Satan himself, Kahr, is a kajillionaire precisely because he could care less about the nightmare many families face every day at the mailbox.

Unfortunately, we live in a world where debt and credit card companies are the biggest reason couples get divorced. More than half the couples in this country are divorcing. Now, since I had to take College Algebra rather than anything useful like "how to manage your personal finances," I can't do the math of exactly how many actual families are destroyed by credit cards and their evil poster boy Kahr. But, I can tell you that if half the families are breaking up over debt and money problems then America is suffering from some pretty serious mental and emotional issues that center around money and we need to get a handle on it.

The average family living in the United States has over $9,300 of credit card debt. In comparison, the median household income was about $46,000 in 2005. So for all the people out there who find themselves in debt anxiety, otherwise known as hell - and statistically, that's most of you - don't hate your spouse, hate Andrew Kahr and the credit card companies that employ him.

Also, get some help. My husband and I took an invaluable course called Financial Peace University that educated us about personal finances and it's changed the way we manage our own money. Dave Ramsey teaches the course in little satellite classes on DVD that are offered in community centers and churches all over the country. The class costs about $100 depending on how many students enroll and I promise you will make up that $100 in your first year of Zero Based Budgeting.

To Dodd and his Senate Banking Committee, I think I'd like to see less strong encouragement and more actual LAWS to govern the corrupt credit card industry. I'd also like to see Andrew Kahr given a life-sentence to solitary confinement for the horrible crimes against humanity he has committed - the committee should at least fine him a kajillion dollars.

And for Heaven's sake don't click on all the Google ads that will pop up on this blog as a result of my writing about a credit card problem. You don't want any more cards, credit is not your friend, and I don't need the income from clicks to credit card ads.

To find the Financial Peace University course nearest you just enter your zip code at this link:
http://www.daveramsey.com/

To find out more about the terrible trauma Andrew Kahr has directly caused in your life:
www.answers.com/topic/andrew-kahr

To find out more about the Senate Banking Commitee Hearing on Credit Card Practices, maybe even shoot him an email:
http://dodd.senate.gov/

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

Shut Up John Mayer, Stop Waiting On the World to Change











by Tracee Sioux

The hit song, Waiting on the World to Change by John Mayer, is about political apathy and I am declaring that it's time to change our tune as Americans.

Even as a political science major with an obvious interest in politics and social change, I have been just as guilty as anyone of political apathy over the last 7 years of George W. Bush's Presidency. Republicans ruled the House of Representatives, the United States Congress, appointed a majority on the Supreme Court, and controlled the Presidency of the United States. It seems all I, as a democrat, could do was wait patiently for power to swing back in our direction. I still voted, but let's face it, I live in Texas, a very conservative Republican state and I didn't harbor any illusions after 9/11 that power was going to swing in the direction of my kind any time soon.

But, now that New York Democratic Senator Hillary Clinton has announced that she will be seeking the office of President in 2008 and Illinois Democratic Senator Barack Obama will soon announce the same, it is time to stop waiting and start influencing the world to change.

I am inviting all democrats, black and white, male and female to join me in refusing to vote for one more white middle-aged man in 2008! Sorry, John Edwards but, your kind has ruled this country since it's inception and that fact has a negative influence on the possibilities for girls and minority kids. My vote will be to end the reign of white men in 2008.

Now, I don't have a thing against middle-aged white men in general. My father is one, my husband is one, my son will one day be one and my brothers and brothers-in-law, grandfathers and cousins are all inhabit the bodies of white-middle-aged men. But, I am advocating voting the gender-line or the race-line rather than the party-line in the 2008 Presidential Elections as a valid and legitimate political position.

A few weeks ago I was having dinner with a bunch of visiting relatives when a cousin of mine asked me how my younger brother was. I reported that he is working as a financial analyst for Maracopa County in Phoenix, recently bought a condo with his new wife and is expecting his first baby. I joked that my brother Klint is the only person I know who still seriously thinks he might become President of the United States and therefore probably won't be satisfied with financial analysis for too long.

My husband then shocked me by saying, "I could be President of the United States one day, I haven't entirely given up the idea."

To which I couldn't help laughing hysterically and saying, "I hate to be the one who tells you, but there is no way on God's Green Earth that you will ever be the President of the United States."

I was bewildered that my response would even come close to hurting my husband's feelings, but it did. He felt I wasn't being a very supportive wife.

After asking around I realized that having seen white men, sometimes pretty average white men, achieve the highest political office in the land had a profoundly positive effect on boys as they grew up and pursued higher education and landed jobs. They truly believed in their innermost selves that the Presidency was attainable to them. They would, after all, grow up to be white middle-aged men and they had as much chance as anyone else of achieving this ultimate ambition.

I, quite conversely, never believed this was a goal that was even remotely attainable to me. Forming my formative self in the '70s, in the midst of the women's revolution in a highly conservative household, where my parents both voted NO to the Equal Rights Amendment, thereby denying women (ME) equal rights under the Constitution of the United States, it was radical that I even thought I might be able to pursue a career when I grew up.

My son, like my husband and little brother, has only to look in a history book and see the 43 white men who have become the President to believe that he's got a chance. My daughter, however, has only to look at the same page and see that this is a possibility that she is, fairly or not, excluded from.

So, this election I urge everyone, even white, middle-aged men, to cast their vote for our daughters. A vote for Hillary means a vote for Possibility. The possibility that 50 percent of the population, females, might believe us when we tell them that if they work hard, stay in school and get good grades, they too might achieve the office of United States President.

And if Hillary doesn't win the primary, vote for ALL the minority kids out there and the possibility that they might be anything they want to be when they grow up.

Ideally, I would love to see Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama on the same ticket, president and vice-president, woman and man, white and black, giving every kid in America the same hope, the same possibility, the same ambition and the same belief that they can be anything they want to be when they grow up.
To order a bumper sticker for $6 email me

Pictures of 43 Presidents of the United States
http://www.whitehouse.gov/history/presidents/

Vote for Hillary Clinton
http://www.hillaryclinton.com/

Encourage Barack Obama to run for President
http://www.barackobama.com/?gclid=CJibwrGT94kCFSj0IgodYUz5QQ

Encourage my brother, Klint Johnson, to run for President
http://www.klintandjanet.com/

Friday, January 19, 2007

In Defense of What I Did All Day

By Tracee Sioux

My husband, bless his soul, has been giving me crap about why the house isn't spotless every day when he comes home from work.

While this may be dull and monotonous to everyone else, hopefully it will enlighten him to my true role as "housewife," as he likes to refer to me. Actually, I hope it will enlighten him to my "mothering" skills, which is how I prefer to think about what I do around here.

6:45 am to 7:30 am - Am handed crying baby and bottle by husband who is trying to get ready for work. Zack has a cold and can't breathe well enough to even drink his bottle so going back to sleep is out of the question. Older sister, asleep next to me due to cold, is awakened and refuses to go back to sleep either. Wrestle with Zack to get nose drops up his nose, search the house for the snot sucker, fight with screaming baby to suck the mucus out of his nose. Still can't breathe, take baby and self into hot shower hoping steam with drain some mucus, 5 year old demanding to get into hot water with mom and brother cause she's cold and has stuffy nose too. Try to manage the three of us under small amount of water without touching freezing wall of shower. Give up and opt for bath. Sit down in bath and realize before it gets full that we have already run out of hot water. Get all kids out of bath and get self and two kids dressed in warm fleece clothes as we have no central heat and "warm" this time of year simply isn't going to happen.

Get coffee. Get daughter sore throat suckers for cold.

Collect load of laundry from all over house. Tell daughter to go get her dirty clothes and bring them to me. Argue about whether her favorite nightgown is dirty and needs washing. Tell daughter to put her slippers and socks on. Insist both go on. Start load.

Realize must get sewing machine and projects off kitchen table to be able to fold laundry. Sit down and sew two throw pillows from scrap materials. Put sewing machine and projects under kitchen table. Wipe table off to put clean clothes there.

Try to give baby tsp of Tussin. Clean Tussin baby spit all over floor. Look for syringe to make baby take tsp of Tussing. Apply Baby Vicks to nostrils, suck snot out of screaming baby's nose. Try to get Zack to eat Bananas. Zack spits out bananas.

Let baby crawl around on floor. Following me around whining.

Go to the bathroom and tell kids not to disturb me for 5 minutes as I didn't have time to poop yesterday and I feel cranky and backed up.

Feel better. Brush teeth. Tell daughter to turn off TV and brush teeth and find something more productive to do.

Turn on her computer learning game.

Hang bar over stove with drill, hang pans on bar. Unscrew ugly screws from wall now that we don't need them.

Smell something fowl and change baby's poopy diaper. Find pacifier, special blanky and attempt to get sick baby down for nap. Can't breathe. Suck his nose again. Try for nap again. Wants more cuddle since he's sick. Tell daughter to stop asking me for stuff while I try to get Zack to take a nap.

9 am to 11 am - switch out laundry. Help daughter get frozen fruit to much on. Turn the computer game on again. Teach her the value of a mouse pad to move the math. Read directions for learning game, sit with her and encourage her when she gets the first few right.

Baby wakes up after only 20 minutes. Try to feed him again. No go. Put back down for nap. Go outside and haul more stuff in from the car. Open box to build kitchen island to further organize kitchen.

Fold laundry. Load more laundry. Force feed Tussin in baby, this time trapping him on his back so he can't spit out so easily. Wipe Tussin off baby's face and clothes and floor.

Look all over house for wrench. Check the car, while I'm there, check the mail. Wash throw pillow covers from couch, starting to stink. Tell daughter she may change clothes and watch TV. Try to build island again. A few more screws. Teach daughter difference between Philips head and Flat head screwdriver, allow her to practice gross motor skills with screw driver. Teach her to read directions, pointing out subtleties of IKEA diagrams.

Answer daughters complaints of hunger by saying, "just a minute, let me just get this done." Daughter goes to fridge, finds herself salad, makes me one too. What a great self-sufficient kid! Shower her with praise and compliments for independence and helping and thinking of mommy too.

Get mirror from wall to entertain baby while I work.

Baby wants food again. Make him oatmeal, sugar, ice. Daughter sees fun game on TV.

Mommy do you want to play a game

I would love to, but I really need to feed Zack, get the laundry and dishes done, finish building an island, then we need to go grocery shopping.


Okay well let me just tell you about the game." It's the hot, cold, getting hotter, getting colder game where you hide something and the other person has to find it.

Realize the educational value of the game being one of deductive reasoning reading verbal and non-verbal cues.

Agree that I will play the game while I feed the baby, myself, put island together, and fold clothes. Hide bear in clean laundry, hide it in daddy's slacks pocket, again in the dish towel drawer, again in the dishwasher. Finish salad, fold clothes, let baby munch on cheerios. Put baby back on floor. Forget we're playing the game and realize I can't do everything all at once. Tell her we will play again later.

Let her help me put the wheels on the island. Retrieve an unknown object from baby's mouth.

Change another poopy diaper. Fill box where diapers go with new diapers. Go to the bathroom. Sit down and blog for exactly 15 minutes. Going back to work on island before baby needs another nap and while daughter is dressing up dolls in her room.

noon - Go to the kitchen floor and screw four pieces of wood together to make the underside of a shelf.

Zack, don't put the bracket in your mouth.
no no noo
Zack no
no Zack
I said no
Ainsley come get your brother please
Zack get off the instructions, I have to see the diagram

Ainsley I told you several times already, it is too cold to wear that nightgown, if you want to wear it put on long pants and a long shirt under it. I don't want to tell you again.

Make mental note about needing toilet paper, formula, milk, cabbage at the grocery store. Out of coffee.

Drying stopped. Every 30 seconds starting again to remind me to fold the clothes. Finish brackets. Fold Clothes, put more in wash. Remember there are wet clothes spoiling in the floorboard of the car. Ask Ainsley to put her shoes on and go get them so I can wash them. Ask her to bring back the laundry basket from her room that she took there to put her clothes away. Realize by Zack's babbling and moaning that he needs another nap. Collect him, find his pacifier and blanket again. Take him to his room and sway until he falls asleep. Pray he stays asleep for a while so I can get things done. Make him bottle, let him drink it in the crib and hope he falls asleep. Empty diaper pail so kid's room doesn't smell of poo.

I'm getting tired and it's 12:43 pm. Still haven't brushed my hair. Look around the house. Half an island and all the packaging is on the kitchen floor. Living room floor is littered with baby toys, daughters hats, shoes, coats, clothes, school work, markers, crayons, books, bags, dolls, horses and bears. Bottles and sippy cups are in the bathroom, kitchen, and living room. Ainsley has dropped a salad fork where she was eating at the computer. Dishes are piled up, dirty towels are here and there.

Back to the island.

Mom, did you put that notebook thing somewhere, mom, mom, mom, mom remember when you gave me that notepad thing and said I could have it - did you put it somewhere else?

I don't know where that ended up and I don't have time to look for it right now.

Mom, can I make something else for myself to eat?

Sure.

Daughter makes another salad singing:

"Cabbage chicken salad, they like it everywhere, cabbage chicken salad, they like it because it's so good and it's so healthy!"

Make Ainsley h0ld the hooks on while I screw them in so I can get leverage. And then again.

Finally, kitchen island finished. Hang mirror that was back splash above stove in hall at Baby Zack's level so he can experiment with his reflection. Measured wrong 5 times, tried again 5 times. Baby Zack wakes up and cries while watching me from his crib.

It's okay Zack, I'll be there in a minute, just let me finish this.

Ask 5 year old to put away screwdrivers and tools, help clean up packaging and clean mirror for Zack. Put aside packaging I can use later in top of my closet, cardboard for mailing pictures and bags to reuse later for trash. Reorganize pots and pans and dishtowels on kitchen island.

Retrieve baby, check for fever, look at clock to see if it's time for more medicine. Can't remember when I last gave it to him.

Remind Ainsley for second time to start picking her toys up. She's distracted by reorganizing her office. Tells me just wait until I just gets my desk all clean and stuff.

Another load of laundry to fold. Can't put off going to Sams Warehouse, don't have enough formula to make it through tonight, used last of it for nap. Also out of milk, so can't substitute.

Tell Ainsley to put on warmer clothes so we can go to the store, also tell her to brush teeth and hair and put on her shoes and boots. Tell her 3 times, will fold clothes while she does that. Won't have time to put on makeup or fix my hair. Zack will get hungry if we dawdle.

Brush your hair. Zack's got your salad, better get it before you have a big mess to clean up. Zack look, you can bang on these pots to make cool music, like drums. There's Zacky in the mirror, that's you! What a good looking fellow. Just stick a hat on your head and let's go! Wear a coat, you're already sick! Please stop banging on the pots you two, I'm getting a headache. Zack! Do you stink AGAIN?

In the car we learn about right and left and traffic signals. While shopping we discuss what is and is not healthy. We learn to pick healthy chips versus unhealthy ones, we compare prices. We use our math skills while we look at how much comes in a box and which is the best price. We learn that we don't buy strawberries in January because they don't grow in the winter and so are too expensive for us. On the way home we do another deductive reasoning guessing game - "I have something glass and colorful and round in my pocket, guess what's in my pocket," It is 4 pm when we get home, Zack is napping again. Ainsley helps me bring in the groceries.

I teach her to use the butcher knife and divide 10 pounds of beef to put in smaller bags and freeze. She learns that if you make 10 cuts you get 11 pieces of beef. She also learns that hamburger is dead chopped up cows. Gross.

She grabs a yogurt for a snack and I finish putting the groceries away. It's 5 pm and my husband will be headed home.

The house is not clean. There is stuff all over the living room. There is a load of clothes waiting to be folded. Another is still in the washer. There is not a chance in the world that I will be able to get the laundry done and put away, the living room picked up and the mound of dishes loaded in the dishwasher. Oh, and have dinner ready. It just can't happen in an hour, especially since Zack will wake up in the next half hour and demand my attention with wet diapers, painful teething, stuffy nose and empty stomach. And I am dog tired, beyond exhaustion. I've not had time to brush my hair or eat a snack or sit down to rest, I even ate lunch while folding laundry.

Jeremy will walk in the door and what he will see is everything I haven't got done today. The dishes will annoy him, the toys littering the living room will irritate him, the not-quite-finished laundry will seem a mystery to him. This is the evidence that I am a substandard "housewife."

The imperative difference is in how we interpret my day. I do not see myself as a housewife primarily. I see my function as one of being a mother. Mothering is the primary function of why I'm staying home rather than out there earning a living to raise our standard of living.

I am raising two people here. I am doing it conscientiously with a very specific goal in mind. They will be good people, able to be productive members of society. They will know how to take care of themselves, they will have confidence and a sense of self that will see them through adolescence and early adulthood. They will become good parents who know how to nurture and care for others.

The evidence of what I do all day isn't apparent when you come in the front door. But, I'm teaching my daughter how to read before Kindergarten and she can add numbers and count and write and spell.

My kids have learned about cooperation and compassion and helping and working as a team today. They have learned how to find something to eat if they are hungry. They have learned what a healthy snack is. They learned patience and how to read body language and how to reason given limited information. They have learned to love learning through playing. They have learned they have the ability to make music. They have learned responsibility. They have learned about language and proper speaking and manners and worked on their cognitive skills. They have practiced their motor development skills and learned how to keep a beat. They have worked on their math and their reading. They have learned about following directions. They have learned that I am available to them, and empathetic and compassionate when it comes to their needs. They have learned to wear warmer clothes when it is cold to avoid getting sick. They have learned to have fun while working. They have learned to recycle and reuse to improve the environment. They have learned where meat comes from. They have learned how to divide. They have learned how many months until their next birthday, learning the order of the months.

I look back on my day as a raging success because I see my primary function as mothering. My role is not an underpaid babysitter, maid and cook. What I do all day has worth - real eternal value that is significant and important. I'm going as fast as I can and working my ass off. I didn't get an hour for lunch or two 15 minute breaks either. I didn't even get to poop without interruption this morning.

Perhaps if my husband were to see my contributions of mothering as valid and vital in our family life he wouldn't be perpetually disappointed in what a bad housewife I am. But, if he chooses to walk in the door and see everything I didn't do, that's his decision. While his recognition of the value of my mothering would ease some stress in my life, his lack of validation will not change my primary function as a "housewife." I will remain, first and foremost - a mother. I will continue to do my chores as he does the busy work he's required to do at the office - not his first priority, nor mine.

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

Amendment to Beauty Bank Rule

By Tracee Sioux

For practical purposes I must amend my previous post about the sin beauty bank.

The first practical problem being that my daughter is fixating on going out for Chinese. She loves going to Chinese as a great way for us to hang out.

"Mama, can we just call ourselves a bunch of names so we can put a bunch of quarters in the box and go to Chinese today?"

Obviously, I underestimated her cognitive ability to connect saying bad things about ourselves with being rewarded with Chinese food. I think we shall have to go to Chinese first and talk about why it's wrong to say bad things about our selves and our bodies. That both gets the point of what I'm trying to change across and take away the incentive to reward bad behavior.

I have yet to decide what we should then do with our quarters when the box is full. My husband thinks that he should be allowed to take the money and go to Chinese without us. But, I don't think that's a great idea either.

The other practical problem was presented when I told her to put a quarter in the box and she informed me, "I don't have any quarters," and went directly to my purse to get some.

I jumped on this opportunity to get the dusting done. I handed her a duster and told her she would have to earn quarters to put in the bank and told her I'd give her a couple of quarters if she dusted the whole house to my satisfaction.

Another issue I can see cropping up is that I have already used my power of making her pay for bad behavior by making her put a quarter in the bank for constantly and incessantly complaining. So far this is the only quarter she has had to deposit. Is this an abuse of my newly discovered power?

I, on the other hand, have had to deposit a quarter for saying, "I am so stupid" when I pulled out a sweat shirt I really liked and realized I had gotten pink paint on it. I then had to write, "I am smart. It is OK to make mistakes," on a post-it and plop it on the bank.

We're 50 cents into it. I'll keep you posted.

Thursday, January 11, 2007

Princess Ban

By Tracee Sioux

“No princesses, Bratz or Barbie gifts,” read the invitation for my daughter’s 5th birthday party this year. The week before we had gone to the used bookstore and sold all Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, Little Mermaid and Barbie books. She was allowed to pick other, healthier, books to replace them.

I was bracing myself for a big crying fit when I told her we were banning princesses and Barbie. We had never allowed Bratz – because obviously they look like hoochies and they are brats and I certainly don’t want her immolating that kind of garbage. But, really it was all very easy and calm and I think she even enjoyed the extra attention given to her girlness and her ideas of girlness.

“We’re going to the used bookstore,” I told her one morning. “Why don’t you gather up all your princess and Barbi books so we can sell them and get other books.”

“Why can’t I keep my princess books Mommy?” she asked.

“Because all those princesses just sit around waiting for a man, the prince to come save them,” I told her. “And you do not need saving.”

“You can wake yourself up, you don’t need some guy to show up and kiss you to wake yourself from a nightmare,” I said emphatically.

This seemed to make sense to her, as I had already taught her how to wake herself up from a nightmare.

“Well, Belle doesn’t need a guy to wake her up,” she said.

“Belle gets kidnapped and then she turns the beast into a prince with her love,” I explained. “You don’t fall in love with someone who kidnaps or traps you, that’s called Stockholm Syndrome, and I guarantee that if you marry a beast someday, he will stay a beast and never, ever turn into a prince.”

“Ariel doesn’t wait for someone to wake her up,” she said thoughtfully.

“Worse,” I told her. “Ariel gives up her gift of voice and her entire family for the first man she ever sees!”

“You should never give up your gifts to get a man, especially not your voice or your ability to say what you want, and you should never let a man isolate you from your family and you not marry the first man who likes you, you should date a few more to find out what you want,” I responded.

“Cinderella could have rescued herself from her stepmother if she had got good grades and went to college to be a lawyer or a doctor, then she wouldn’t have had to deal with her step mother or her step sisters. She didn’t need Prince Philip to find her glass slipper and marry her away from them. She should have saved herself,” I said.

“What about Barbie?” she asked.

“Barbie doesn’t ever DO anything,” I explained. “She just sits around looking pretty or buying big houses or flashy cars and a bunch of clothes. Really, don’t you think there should be more to life than buying stuff? How does Barbie make the world a better place?”

“I don’t know,” she said.

“Well, I want you to be able to do things for yourself when you grow up,” I told her. “So no more princesses or Barbie.”

“Okay, can I keep this one? It has Alice in Wonderland in it and other stories too,” She asked.

It was an expensive collection of stories my mother had given her and I wasn’t yet ready to offend my mother by selling her gifts to the used bookstore, so I relented.

And we only had to return one set of princess flash cards on her birthday. After a few tears she was pretty happy about the paint set she chose instead. And really, surprisingly, I think she really gets it. I think she really does understand that it’s important for girls to do stuff and not wait around for boys to come save them. Or at least on come cellular level she gets it and my struggle will not have been in vain. Now when we go to the store, she just accepts that it’s a rule. Like not being allowed to buy Bratz or Cheetah girls paraphernalia is a rule because they seem to have lost or grown out of all their clothes.

Sexy

By Tracee Sioux

As the mother of a four-year-old daughter, I have been mentally preparing myself for the eventual discussion about sex. I was going to be open-minded and talk honestly and without fear. I was going to talk about specifics, including feelings, and be open to my daughter’s wish to experiment, though cautioning against too much experimentation too soon. Prepared was I to calm my husband down, explaining that a little education never hurt anyone. What had to be avoided was conveying feelings of shame or embarrassment or shock about the issue. Sex was, after all, invented by God. I would handle the subject without inflicting negative feelings on her sexuality while at the same time cautioning against promiscuity.

“Mama, do you want to have sexy today?” my daughter asked one morning. She’s only FOUR YEARS OLD!

No air in my chest, eyes and mouth opened as I tried to control the shrill shriek of my voice and I asked, “Ainsley, do you know what that means? What do you think ‘sexy’ means?”

“Like kissing and holding hands and wearing a dress and going on a date,” she said.

“Okay, well it’s not something mommies and kids do and it’s not appropriate for four years to talk about,” and for good measure, not to mask my real and legitimate concerns, I added, “Please don’t talk about sexy or sex in front of other kids or they won’t be allowed to play with you anymore.”

And there I was, stunned, terrified, completely unprepared for such an exchange and praying it didn’t come up again until she was at least nine or ten and I could give her a Judy Blume book.

I flashed back to the previous evening’s episode of the Gilmore Girls. Honestly, I thought the show was innocuous, even good for us to watch an example of affectionate mother-daughter dialogue. I vaguely remember doing something else while the character Ling discussed having sex with her boyfriend. Virginity was winning the battle, but the word sex was probably uttered at least 20 times.

I started paying closer attention to what got into her little brain. I noticed behavior that felt more dangerous than cute, as it had only the day before.

I took notice of the provocative poses on the cover of magazines in line at grocery stores, in the images of Disney princesses and Jessica Simpson sauntering around singing about snack foods on commercials.

I heard her say, “I’m her,” when she saw Pamela Anderson in a commercial for her TV show Stacked. Pamela Anderson! Not even on my worst, most self-loathing day have I wanted to emulate Pamela Anderson. Never have I wished to be so gaudily female and so, well, Barbie-like and unnatural and made-up and plastic.

My daughter is taking in all the images of womanhood she’s presented and picking up on an unattainable, and I think, unattractive, exaggerated version of girlness.

Overnight I felt like a failure at filtering terrible distorted images of women, and far too inadequate to handle the question of “sexiness” and femininity. I became almost certain that she would inevitably find herself in therapy attempting to fix all the damage we’ve done to her by not sheltering her from every sexual or provocative image and then reacting to her curiosity in the worst way possible – with shock and terror.

“Ignore it, at four she doesn’t need any more information. Just tell her it’s not appropriate for her to talk about,” has been the advice from all I’ve consulted.

Still, it – the issue of sexiness and sex – hasn’t gone away. In fact, she seems to be more preoccupied with it.

I lashed out in fear turned to anger one day and hissed, “You don’t need to be posing provocatively, do you understand me? You are only four-years-old and that’s simply not appropriate.”

Having overheard me, my husband responded, “She doesn’t even need to know the word ‘provocative.’”

He’s right, but I can’t think of an appropriate four-year-old synonym for sexy or provocative.

My original fear was realized when my friend informed me that the last time our children played together that Ainsley struck a pose and said, “I’m sexiest.”

To which I took my girl aside and said, “you better not use the words sexy, sex, sexiest or anything like it around those kids or you will be in big trouble. Huge! And don’t you do any posing with your hips or bottom out either!”

“No,” my friend said, “It’s never come up with my kids. You should probably keep telling her not to talk about it, but she’s definitely too young for more information.”

Further investigation illuminates that my friends' method is to use a way more intense filter than ours. They turn off the TV when commercials come on. They flip the covers of magazines over when standing in line at stores. They tell their kids to turn away from billboards that contain provocative images of the body. They even withdrew their kid from private Christian school when a fellow kindergartener offered to show him her boobs.

Not only does this seem like an awful lot of effort, but their goal as parents is vastly different from ours. They are raising their daughters to grow into being submissive wives. Were we to ban every negative image of womanhood we would include that of a blindly submissive wife. Using the criteria that bans sexiness, unattainable prettiness and servant-like wifeliness, what images of femininity would be left? Stern schoolmarm? It is unlikely such images will hold much appeal for our daughter. They certainly don’t hold much attraction for me.

For now I’m sticking to a few little lies about sex like, “Sex is something that mommies and daddies do,” and a few poignant truths, “four-year-olds don’t need to worry, or talk about, things like sexiness.” Let’s hope I come up with something better when she’s nine or ten.

I’m also going to be more vigilant about what images of femininity she is exposed to. Within reason.

The findings in the 2005 Dove Campaign for Real Beauty Global Survey give me hope. While 97 percent of girls by the time they are 15-years-old want to change something about their bodies, it also shows that most girls are taking their cues from their mothers. Actually it’s a three-way tie between mothers, media and girlfriends, which is both frightening and hopeful. If mothers are an early pivotal influence on how daughters feel about themselves, then I had better start watching what I say about myself, women and beauty in general.

Next time my daughter says “I’m her” when she is taken with an overly-perfect picture of womanhood I’m going to say, “No, you’re you, and that’s better. In fact, that’s perfect.”