Over one hundred essays poured in from 26 states and four countries. Reading the essays shed light on the current state of the mom-mind. For example, the word 'perfect' (of a variation of it) was used over 92 times. That's almost one 'perfect' for every mom. While I think the questioning of perfection is positive (although not every essay questioned it), the frequency shows that the desire to be 'perfect' continues to loom over our sense of identity.

All too many American women are in thrall to increasingly deranged ideals of perfection. We live in a culture that constantly exhorts us to improve ourselves - and that assumes the perfectibility of virtually everything. If you don't like your nose, get a nose job! If you don't like the color of your hair, dye it! If your thighs are lumpy have liposuction! If you want abs of steel, go to the gym! Personal maintenance has become a national obsession that consumes a staggering amount of energy and resources; if American women put even a fraction of the time they spend on their appearance into working or social and political change, this country would be utterly transformed.

We ask girls to walk a fine line between being strong and being likable. It's a line we typically allow boys to trample.

What's next?

Well, you KNOW what's next, because it's either happened to you or you've used all your powers of "nice" to avoid it.

As little girls they call us bossy. As women they call us BITCHY.

Praise your bossy daughter today! She's showing signs of being a leader.

Miss America, the pageant of all pageant's. The, the, the . . . most obsolete thing in the world.

TLC got a hold of the Miss America pageant and aims to modernize it on a reality show called Miss America Reality Check. Which sounded like a potentially promising thing. For a minute.

There was this part of me - the wicked part - that loved every minute of the tongue lashing the 52 pageant contestants got from What Not to Wear stars Stacy and Clinton. Admit it we've all wanted to say "enough with the sequins and take the hair down about 1,000 notches, you look like a drag queen, and for goodness sake stop it with the spray tan!"

I watched again last night (after the kids went to bed) thinking maybe they were going to move onto to some actual modernizing or dare I dream, feministing, of the pageant.

No, we had an intellectual competition. Who is the most smartest beauty pageant contestant? Host Michael Urie, the mean boy from Ugly Betty, made the girls get into their swim suits and stilettos and they were forced to {gasp} jump in the pool to ruin their make-up and hair if they got it wrong.

So, then it became just another way for women/girls to be humiliated in as little clothing as possible. And was it really a challenge of intelligence? The last winner-takes-all question was about which country Borat comes from.

Borat? That's how we gauge intelligence in this country now? From knowing about last year's crude comedy? Fictional geography?

Why did we give carte blanc to all gay men to humiliate women on television? Why are they allowed to be as insulting and cruel as they like without any public backlash? Were a straight man or a woman to say most of what Michael Urie says on that show it would be socially unacceptable. What makes gay guys the ultimate in fashion experts anyway? They don't have to wear the clothes or the heals or use the products - why should women care what they think looks best on us? Why don't we expect even a minimum of respect from them? It's like women have become the gay man's real-life Barbie to make-over as he sees fit.

And who do we have making over Miss America? The fashion industry. Brilliant! Because they've been so wonderful and uplifting to girls and women in America thus far. The fashion industry knows exactly what the American people want to see in Miss America. Not.

Let's see . . . Who has done more harm to women's self esteem and self image -pageants or the fashion industry?

Really I would love to know - how is this better?

by Traces Sioux

Every parent of a daughter should see Little Miss Sunshine.

It's the story of a normal girl, Olive, from a dysfunctional family scrambling to get their hands on the American Dream.

Olive's aunt entered her into a beauty pageant and she placed as a runner-up. The winner couldn't make it to the California Little Miss Sunshine Pageant, so Olive gets in at the last minute.

Olive wants it, so the family drives their beat-up VW van across the country. When confronted with the complete insanity of what little girl beauty pageants have come to, both brother and father have serious misgivings about allowing Olive to compete.

This is a funny and entertaining flick. It's also a poignant commentary about the sexualization of girls and the importance our culture places on beauty as success.

Little Miss Sunshine is disturbing, but then so is what we do to girls in our culture.

Support this blog by clicking on the Unboxed DVD in the right side bar to watch the film right now. Or click on the Little Miss Sunshine link to order the DVD.

I often have to bite my tongue to prevent myself from exclaiming, Oh, Zack you're such a boy!

It's almost a reflex anytime he plays with machines, pushes around a car, stacks some blocks, plays with a ball or tries to fight. It's a reflex most people in our family do not resist.

Stereotypes are ingrained in us, as much as they are in society.

It's the activities that are seen as masculine - but if you look to the left or right, nearly every time my girl is doing the exact same activity.

She too plays with balls, climbs on any tractor she sees, wants to drill holes in the wall or sling a hammer (like Mommy) and is as likely as he, to jump on your back and holler, You're going down!

How do you think it feels to her when she hears Zack is such a boy! for participating in an activity she too is doing? She might feel excluded from the activity or irrelevant in the situation. Overlooked. Dismissed. Obsolete. Unimportant. Left out. Invalidated and unacknowledged.

For girls and women these are familiar feelings.

You'll notice in the above photograph, Lowes has added women to their marketing displays for mowers. I had two simultaneous responses to this.

The first was, It's about time they acknowledged that women also mow the lawn.

The second was, We already do 75% of the housework and childcare and now we have to mow the flippin' lawn too?

But then I was distracted by Ainsley moving to a new machine and declaring loudly, I'm going to take over the world!

I believe her.

by Tracee Sioux

When you write about issues effecting daughters, you put a lot of thought into personal action that might not have carried much meaning before.

For instance, having written that women should consider how their daughters will feel before reconstructing perceived flaws through surgery in My Face/Her Face I have to wonder how far I must take the you're beautiful the way God made you message.

Does that make it wrong for me to color my hair? Am I now restricted to only allow myself my natural color? Am I making Ainsley feel bad about her light brown hair (which is my natural color) by bleaching and coloring my hair? Am I harming her self esteem?

I was a natural blond as a child. I'm not over it. Okay? I'm just not. I want to be a blond. My hair got darker around the 5th or 6th grade and I wasn't thrilled when I saw myself in a picture. I've pretty much been bleaching it since the 7th grade. Blonds have more fun. Blonds are prettier. Blonds are younger. Blonds are more exciting. I think you look great as a brunette. But I, my inner self or my own internal picture of me, is a blond.

I don't feel as pretty if I don't have blond streaks. Sometimes I like to put red in it. Sometimes I really enjoy the contrast between the dark brown and the sun-streaked blond. Last Spring I loved my pink streaks amidst the blond. I like the feeling I get when I make a big change, but I like it most when there is blond involved.

I'll probably never develop a deep satisfaction in my natural color. For one thing, by now it's probably got some grey in it and I'd color it anyway. I may never get over it - and why should I? There is nothing permanent about hair.

However, after reading my friend Jennifer's blog A Free Haircut is Always a Super Cut arguing that professional hair color is an expensive luxury. I decided I could give up my blond - for a little while - to free up the $60 it costs me to have it done. We're buying a house and that 60 bucks, as well as the gym membership, can go to the mortgage.

I went for my natural Light Golden Brown first. Boring. Boring. Boring. I went back for the Dark Auburn last night - I can at least give myself a hint of drama.

And Ainsley, I've already colored her hair twice - once with pink streaks and once with red. She even had pink extensions glued in for a while. She asked for it and I couldn't think of a reason not to.

So, if Ainsley is going to get a message I hope it's this, You have the freedom to have whatever color of hair you want. You can reinvent yourself every season if you feel like it. But, keep it in perspective - if it's between buying a house or being a blond - the house should win every time.

Who knew I had this much to say about hair:

• Beauty & Reality
• Pink Hair Fiasco
• Pink Hair Fiasco Take 2
• Curl Maintenance
• The Meaning of Hair

by Tracee Sioux

Mommy, Kinsey called me a bad word!

Oh no. What did she call you?

Tracee!

So this is what bad mother Karma feels like. I so wish I had been nicer to my mother. Where once my main goal in life was to not become my mother, I now realize there are WAY worse people to be. I'd be lucky to be as kind, generous and loving and together as my mother.

The other day someone said, That must have been hard for you.

We were discussing how my mother actually taught me real homemaking skills like sewing, cooking and cleaning that I thought were passe. I believed feminism would save me from that fate.

I guess, as a kid I didn't appreciate that some mothers leave. Some mothers beat their kids. Some mothers work three jobs and are never home. Some mothers involve a litany of different father-figures in their kids' lives. Some mothers don't care if you do your homework or graduate. Some mothers give you their cigarettes instead of punishing you for smoking.

I actually do sew. Sometimes for fun. My friends are jealous that I have this antiquated and exotic feminine skill. They bring me their favorite clothes and beg me to fix them. They ask me to teach them these nearly-dead feminine arts. They ask for my recipes.

My parents were right - I just didn't know how good I had it. I really thought every kid got it as good as me.

Now if only I could convince Ainsley - There are way worse names to be called than Tracee.

Please steal this idea for your daughter's Christmas or birthday. I felt with all the negative media images my daughter had to face I wanted to arm her with a really, really good one. I wrote her a book, about herself, for her 5th birthday titled Ainsley, Perfect You.

I used MyPublisher.com because they have a storybook option that let me add more than a caption. When she's feeling anxious about things like the first day of school I take it down and read it to her. It's a very affordable thing any parent can do, it does take some time and planning.

My daughter was reciting all the things about "A" she had learned her first week in Kindergarten.

A is for alligator, apple tree, astronaut, Ainsley.

Then she handed the phone back to me.

Well, when she was reciting all the things that start with A, I refrained from listing Asshole.

Well, thanks for showing some restraint Mom, I said. Sometimes I don't even know who you are. When I was a kid I would have sworn you would never, ever say the word Asshole. Let alone be tempted to say it to a five-year-old.

I would have sworn the same thing. Then I had you.

You mean parenting a child like myself in particular, or the experience of mothering in general?

It was parenting you. When you have a kid like you and you start defending them to people, you don't realize how many assholes there are in the world. The world is pretty full of assholes.

I've learned more things about things I never, ever wanted to know about or understand being your mother. Well, and Larry's wife. The two of you. I was so naive. I've really had to grow and learn being married to him and mothering you. You two are my trials to endure. You're the people in my life that force me to grow.

My poor mother. She'd have chosen a life of rule following, respecting authority and blending in.

Then she had me and I would have none of it - straight from the go. Challenging authority, questioning the status quo, getting into trouble, experimenting with addiction, using my voice loudly and publicly, forever going against the grain.

She did defend me too. I remember she took on the vice-principal of my junior high when I kicked out a window at school. I went right to him and confessed and offered to pay for it. I kicked it, but was surprised it had broken. My intention wasn't to vandalize. The principal expelled me for the rest of the year and she fought that. But, you know what she would have chosen for herself? That I was not the type of kid to kick anything. That I would have just nicely and politely gone to class.

I put my mother through hell. People always make vague comments about myself to me. My grandmother recently wrote, You always have marched to a different drummer.

I never do know what they really mean. I always choose to take it as a compliment. But, I'm vague about how people really perceive me. I never quite understand how exactly I'm so different. Occasionally I'll struggle against it, my nature, but it's futile. I worry that my daughter is too much like me, and girls like us are really such a challenge to mother.

Well behaved women rarely make history.

Laurel Thatcher Ulrich

I took my kids out for Chinese food last week as a special end-of-summer treat. I had given my 18-month-old Zack a chop-stick to play with. He was picking up kernels of rice with it and eating them. I was very proud.

The waitress came up and took the chop stick away from him. He will poke himself, don't let him have this, she chastised me.

People frequently correct my parenting, probably yours too. Some think it's obscenely bad manners when I let him eat with his hands. Some scold me for allowing him to use a fork because he might scratch the inside of his mouth. Many have lots to say about me letting him feed himself and make such a mess. I'm sure if I fed him with a baby spoon there would be those who felt I was not fostering independence.

I simply nodded and went on with my meal.

You know, you don't have to obey her, my daughter informed me. Give him back the chop stick.

Ah, my sweet, sweet daughter, a woman after my own heart. She is so right. Right now I'm trying to negotiate the fine line between making a big deal out of everything or just shutting up and doing what I'm told sometimes. The older I get the more I realize no matter what my action, someone is going to have a criticism. I'm just working on the appropriate response.

by Tracee Sioux

Completely violating my goal to say no to good things as I vowed to do in my column Priorities, I am the new coach of Ainsley's soccer team.

Perhaps you recall my protest last fall when my five-year-old daughter, Ainsley's, soccer coach informed me that her team was being named The Bratz. If you missed it, you should check out Go Bratz Go! where I reported how I was the only parent against naming a little girls' soccer team after vapid dolls that dress like hookers. I convinced the parents to change the name to Butterflies.

The soccer commissioners refused to be flexible about their deadline and wouldn't allow the name change. After a lot of consideration in, No Bratz No! Tantrum or Go With The Flow?, she played on the team. She was wearing an unempowering uniform which declared her a brat in bold black letters.

Playing sports is a huge confidence builder and seriously empowering for girls. Girls must have exercise, let's not forget the BMI Red Zone. Soccer beats cheerleading, in my opinion, as I said in Give Me an "A". I didn't see how anything empowering would be accomplished by yanking her off the soccer team in protest of the name. I certainly didn't want the message to be - if you don't get your way, pick up your toys and go home.

My protest, I do think, made some people think about the issue of what kind of influences their expose their daughters are exposed to. So, it wasn't a complete waste.

This season they needed a coach. I volunteered because I, as the coach, get to name the team. I also think it's important to be involved in my kids' education, activities and sports.

We'll be making a fashion statement in black shirts with pink script, pink shorts and pink socks (hopefully). I know penguins are black and white, but I didn't want to try to keep white clean.

I'm the new coach of Happy Feet.

The kids got new haircuts. Ainsley got a long bob and Zack, a mohawk. Both haircuts beg the issue of the meaning of hair. How much do we use our hair to create our identity and to identify with our children?

The first time Ainsley ever got more than a trim is a very sore spot in our family. It was unhealthy, had a bunch of split ends and was without shape or form. She was three-years-old and for some reason it seemed rebellious to cut her baby hair. I had known lots of mommies with a no-cutting-of-the-baby-hair rule, not even allowing toddler daughters to cut bangs to allow basic vision. I wondered, Who is she, Samson? Does her hair have special powers I don't know about? If we cut her hair, will she lose her special girlness?

I then made a huge blunder. I dropped my 3-year-old daughter off at my mother-in-law's with permission to give her a "long bob, long enough for a ponytail." She came back with a short Dorothy Hamill pixie cut. When my husband saw it, he got so upset he nearly cried and then left furious about what I had done.

A. This was not the haircut I had asked for. Why was he angry at me rather than his mother?

B. Why was he putting so much meaning into a bad haircut? Did he know how many bad haircuts she's likely to have throughout her life? Why was he making it into such a big thing?

C. Why was he making her girlness all about the length of her hair?

Ainsley loved having short hair and has asked, since then, to have her hair cut short. A short bob is what she asked for this year. She was forbidden, I was forbidden, his mother was forbidden. Internet sites with long bobs were perused by all three of us (me, husband and his mother) to decide exactly what style and length Ainsley's hair would be. Ainsley was asked, after everyone else had agreed, whether she could live with that haircut.

At the same time my husband likes my pink highlights, is totally fine with me putting pink streaks in Ainsley's hair and thinks Zack's mohawk is baby-cool.

It's an enigma. One that seems to have everything to do with girls having long hair.