Read: The Apple-Pip Princess

I don't have a lot of nice things to say about princess books, which is a shame, because I have nothing against a good princess. Alyce loves princesses probably almost more than she loves me (but not quite) and the dilemma I face is trying to expand her princess universe outside of Disney. (Or, Barbie.) Trust me, I've tried. There has been a lot written about why the Disney Princess brand is troubling for girls (and boys, too, though I'd like to see more written about that), and while I'm not ready to ban Ariel and Sleeping Beauty from my house (though I have considered it) I am committed to offering Alyce and Shira alternatives. Sometimes I look for stories that portray princesses with a little more depth than, say, a girl who wants to leave her family and change her own physiology to marry a man she has never actually spoken to. Other times I simply want to introduce my children to a world painted in colours other than pastel pink and purple.

I found Jane Ray's The Apple-Pip Princess at the library a few months ago and tucked it in our pile with hopes that Alyce might read it with me (rather than instantly dismissing the book on account of the lack of light purple, see above re: Disney). It was a very good discovery because it turns out that the book is both visually stunning (look at the blues, greens, and browns!) and teaches readers the values of kindness, memory, and caring for the land without being heavy-handed.

The story begins with a king grieving the death of his wife, trying to decide which of his three daughters should inherit his kingdom. He asks the princesses to impress him, and he gives them seven days to do so. His first two daughters, a rather selfish pair, build enormous towers at the centre of town, with hopes that these towers will reflect their own greatness and royal tendencies. Unfortunately, the townspeople are forced to hand over their sole possessions (like the wood from their homes) in order to construct the towers. But the princesses, convinced of their destiny, carelessly ignore the needs of their people. 

The king's youngest daughter has no idea what she could do to impress her father. She takes a moment to look over a box that used to belong to her mother, a special gift she inherited after her death, for inspiration. Her mother had loved the land of the kingdom so much that she had saved tiny pieces of it, tucked safely inside a box: a few raindrops, some sunlight, a tiny piece of a rainbow, a feather, a spider's web, a bird song, and a tiny apple pip (which I learned is a seed, because I had no idea). She looks around and sees that in the years since her mother's death the land has grown brittle and dry. The king, it seems, ignored the needs of the land in his grief.

His youngest daughter decides to revive the land using the gifts from her mother. Over the course of the seven days she plants her seed, and the seeds offered up by the townspeople, and cares for them with rain, sunshine, and all the treasures in her mother's box. Her actions inspire the town to work together for the first time in years, joining forces to breathe life back into the kingdom. She meets new friends and together they do the hard work of caring for the forgotten land. All the while her sisters sit perched atop their towers, waiting for the king's approval. 

The young princess worries that she's not done enough, but when she wakes on the seventh day she finds the land full of life, filled with colours, new plants and trees, and of course, an energized kingdom. Her father is grateful for her efforts and her commitment to both her family and her kingdom. The crown, of course, is hers. We are left with the great celebrations of the kingdom, including her sisters who have retreated from their towers.

I couldn't love this story more. But more importantly, neither could Alyce. All princesses are welcome in this house, but this story holds a special place.

Can you suggest any alternative princess stories? I'd love to expand my list (we already read The Paperbag Princess by Robert Munsch.)

It's not you, Barbie, it's your terrible movie

What if I told you a story about a beautiful young woman who was plucked out of her boring waitress job and thrown into the fast-paced and exciting world of charm school for princesses? Yes, a special school where young royals, and the occasional everyday, run-of-the-mill, long-legged blonde waitress who wins the Princess Lottery, go to master all the princess-related challenges they might one day face. And what if I also told you that the girls at this princess school like to sneak, cheat, and physically hurt their competition in order to get ahead?

Yes, everyone, this might be my daughter's favourite movie of all time. Barbie's Princess Charm School comes home from the library about once a month. I will never buy it for her, just like I won't buy her the accompanying books that she also checks out of the library. I won't even read the books to her. I've explained to her that I don't like how the Barbie books and movies tell stories about the world. She's listened patiently as I tell her that Barbie's friends treat each other in terrible ways that would never be acceptable in our family. I beg and plead with her (mostly in my head) to walk on past the Barbie movies and choose the more agreeable Backyardigans, or even Beauty and the Beast (sigh). I tell her that I like to play with Barbies (who doesn't) but that I don't want to read the books or watch the movies. We can all make choices, I tell her, and this is my choice.

What I don't tell her is that I want to save her from every terrible influence, bad idea, and potentially terrible tattoos she might face in her future. I want to surround her in loving, joyful, and life-affirming things. I want to stand in the way of mean girls and boys, or anyone that tries to darken her world. I only want the good for her, not the backstabbing, soul-crushing future princesses in her Barbie movie. I only want rainbows. And unicorns! And chocolate cake! I want to protect my little girl who loves everyone in the world so much that her it makes her heart hurt. She tells me that sometimes. In Barbie's world there isn't any love like that.

She looks back at me, pigtails bobbing, eyes enormous, entire body bouncing, and takes me hand. It's ok, Mama, you don't have to watch them with me. And I think at the beginning of the movie they act in nice ways. Isn't Barbie beautiful? I love Barbie. Barbie is my favourite. Do you like Barbie?

Send help.
 

This handsome face

This handsome face belongs to my cousin's son, Kymani, who turned five years old this week. I consider five a "big" birthday, one of those events in your life worthy of some going over the top celebrations. When you're five, you're not a little kid anymore. Five comes with some hefty responsibilities: maintaining friendships, asking big questions that come with big answers, and, of course, some serious hot wheels playing. I think Kymani has all of this down already, and he's only known five a few days. And don't you just want to kiss that face?

P.S. You'll all be relieved to know, just as she was, that there were girl toys in her goody bag at Kymani's birthday party yesterday. There were, after all, a few boys at this party, and she was getting antsier with each passing minute. Everyone can breath a sigh of relief, for there was both a tiara AND a princess stamp in the bag. I repeat, there was a tiara and a princess stamp. As you were.

This conversation actually happened

Alyce: Mama, what's your favourite princess?

Me: I think Belle is my favourite (editor's note: I don't actually have a favourite princess).

Alyce: What is your other favourite princess?

Me: Well, I think I only have one favourite.

Alyce: No, no, no, you have three favourites. I have three favourites. Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty and Belle. Who else is your favourite?

Me: Ok. My other favourite princess is Elizabeth, from The Paper Bag Princess.

(Wait for it.)

Alyce: No! She's not a princess! You need to pick a pretty princess.

Me: Elizabeth is beautiful. And she saves her prince from a very large dragon. A VERY large dragon.

Alyce: But she's not a BIG princess! And she's not pretty enough! She needs to be prettier!! Mama, tell me your other favourite pretty princesses.

Me: Belle and Elizabeth. Those are my two.

Alyce: NO. Elizabeth does not have a pretty dress. And she's not pink or purple. AND SHE'S NOT PRETTY.

Me: (Head explodes.)

The End.

Momentum

Alyce now declares on a daily basis that she would like to be a princess when she grows up. She is confident that will be a successful princess who does princess-type things, in a beautiful castle with a queen, king, and prince, and that Shira will also be a princess, but in a different castle, maybe next door. The cats will live with Shira.

Alyce is driven by something these days, something that fuels her princess-obsessed mind to do whatever it takes to achieve her goals (making crowns, wearing princess dresses and fancy shoes, arranging a special make-up room where she can spend her day applying princess make-up--pardon me while I sob in the corner over that one). It's commitment for sure, but it's also something else. Maybe it's momentum.

Momentum can be tricky, and not always a good thing (though in Alyce's case, I will happily support most princess-related activities because it makes her unbelievable happy). It was momentum that kept me a graduate student, and it was a force so strong that I'm still having some difficulty with my decision to leave grad school, even though I know it's the right thing for me to do. I don't really miss working on my dissertation, and I no longer want a future in academia, so I think it must be the strength of that momentum that keeps me looking back. I wonder just how much of what we do every day, and the choices that we make, are motivated by physics (it's physics, right, where they tell us that objects in motion want to stay that way unless acted upon? Newton? Has anyone ever describe that law as eloquently I have just done? I think not).

The pull of academia has always been strong in me. I was often pretty successful at school (except when I wasn't--I also failed quite successfully at times) and that alone propelled me to consider an academic future (the old 'since you can do it you should do it' philosophy I've come to resent). My family was so proud at what I accomplished in high school, and in the degrees that followed, and they always seemed so invested in my success. These expectations weighed heavy on me, even when I was grateful for their support. So, where they didn't finish high school, I did. And then I kept going. And going.

This is not to say that I ended up in a PhD program only because other people thought it was a good idea (even I have people-pleasing limits. No, really, I do). For many years I so enjoyed spending my days poured over books and I even sometimes enjoyed learning Sanskrit and Tibetan.* There are a lot of valid complaints about graduate school (resources, isolation, constantly feeling like a fraud, being used as cheap labour so that universities don't need to rehire permanent faculty), but there are some incredible perks to be had as a junior academic, like surrounding yourself with a community of people who love books as much as you do. That, and the freedom to do most of your work in your favourite coffee shop, if you please (and I pleased a lot). I was smitten with graduate school from the start.

But I should have spent a little more time asking myself how I really wanted to my future to look. I didn't ask myself at all, and instead listened only to that part of my brain that believed I'd come to enjoy writing papers for scholarly journals (I don't) or that I'd have no problem finding a permanent faculty position, in a department that also wanted to hire my PhD (in the same field) husband, in this fantastic job market. I didn't listen carefully enough to that part of me that knew academia wasn't for me, nor did I pay attention to those dreadful warnings about how tough it was going to be for 34,038 PhDs to fight for the 238 available jobs. Nope, I was on a path and I couldn't stray, or so I thought.

Momentum even beat out my other goals and dreams (small as they were) for a life that didn't involve becoming Dr. Professor in the study of religion. I have spent so much time daydreaming about doing something else (it rhymes with widmife), it's a little embarrassing that I staying in grad school so long. But for so long I trusted momentum over the courage I would need to find in order to do something else. I was moving forward, however slowly, and that force was almost all powerful. Thank goodness I met someone who talked some sense into me and suggested an alternate reality where I didn't become a professor just because I thought it sounded like a good idea when I was 20 years old.

So for those of you who have been reading this blog for awhile (thanks, by the way), you know that I finally put an end to all this last fall. But now, in this midst of all these crazy transitions, when everything feels as though it's hanging in the air, waiting to collapse at any moment unless I move forward with new decisions/opportunities/commitments, I'd love to find some new momentum. It's as though I turned my back on it last year and now it's giving me the cold shoulder. But I need some of that drive, some of that push, some of Alyce's vision, maybe, for a life where you could actually become a princess.

Sometimes she's awfully wise, that Alyce. One day I'm sure she'll make a benevolent, if bossy, princess.


*Though I was truly terrible at it.

I might be her new hero

Where she sat for an hour, eyes on the princess.

Yesterday morning Matt had already left early for the gym and both girls woke up on the early side of six o'clock. Since Alyce was already wearing her crown before I opened her bedroom door (one ought to be extra careful and sleep with one's crown, because one just never knows), I thought it was time. Time to experience a princess whose last name isn't Disney. I leaned in close to Alyce, still in the dark of early morning, and whispered, would you like to watch a real princess get married?

It was so much fun just speaking those words to her. She was out of bed and in her TV watching chair before I could even turn on the lights. It felt like such a special occasion that I even gave Alyce her breakfast in front of the TV, something I'm kind of stickler about. But who cares of such things when there are princes and princesses getting married? Not me! Shira and I settled on the floor next to Alyce's chair, me with my coffee and Shira with whatever she was chewing on that day, and sat for over an hour watching the second half of the wedding. I discovered that Alyce does indeed have patience, when it involves princesses that is. She waited through long breaks without a real princess in sight, sitting quietly while the choir sang their beautiful songs, asking about 100 times where the Princess Kate was (instead of her usual 1000 times).

But the best part, my absolute favourite part of the morning, was when Alyce asked about the sparkly fabric hanging from the princess's head. I explained that she was wearing a veil as part of her wedding dress. Oooooh, said Alyce, that's so beautiful. I looked her in the eye, and with a look that let her know that what I was about to say was very important, I told her. I told her that her I also wore a veil when I married Papa. And that is when her big eyes got even wider. Wow, she said. I know, I said.