Podcast: Talking Natural Toys with Natural Pod

I have a serious love for wooden toys. Maybe it’s because I attended a Waldorf kindergarten as a child. Maybe it’s because they’re warm and tactile. Or maybe it’s because I’ve always had a thing for the way that wood smells. Whatever it is, when I first encountered Natural Pod back in 2006 I was immediately hooked. They were local, they carried all kinds of natural playthings, and Bridgitte the owner was fantastic to work with.

Strocel.com podcast Natural Pod Bridgitte table and benchesIn the past few years, Natural Pod has transformed their business. They still sell high-quality, open-ended natural toys to parents, but they’ve expanded to work with schools, daycares and play centres to create inviting spaces for children. In my local community, for example, they’ve been contracted to outfit new kindergarten classrooms. They manufacture most of their own toys and furniture, using sustainably sourced natural materials. I was intrigued, and wanted to learn more, so I got in touch with Bridgitte to arrange an interview for the podcast. This is actually the best part of having a podcast – I have a ready-made excuse to talk to people who are doing cool and inspiring things.

Strocel.com podcast Natural Pod Bridgitte wooden play kitchenBridgitte and I had a great conversation. She talked about how Natural Pod has grown and changed. She shared her vision for her business, and also for the way that we create children’s play spaces in general. She’s a big advocate of imaginative play, uncluttered spaces and natural materials. She’s committed to sourcing safe, sustainable materials, and creating open-ended play areas that children can approach on many levels. She’s also a mom herself, with a vision for the kind of world she would like all children to grow up in.

Speaking with Bridgitte inspired me to take a closer look at my own play room, and the items it contains. Bridgitte has some really amazing things to say. If you’re interested in natural play, you’re on the hunt for sustainable toys, or you’d like some tips on creating a play space for your own children, you’ll want to take a listen:

Next week on the podcast I’ll be sharing an interview with Katherine Stone of Postpartum Progress. She writes the most widely-read blog on postpartum depression, and other reproductive mental illnesses. Many new mothers suffer from depression and other mental health issues during and after pregnancy. When my daughter Hannah was born, I was one of them. This is an important health issue, and it’s not talked about widely enough, so I was thrilled to connect with Katherine. Subscribe to the Strocel.com podcast in iTunes, and you won’t miss a minute!

Done with Childhood Obesity

I am tired of hearing about childhood obesity. I’ve read the statistics. I know it’s a problem. But I’m also sort of over the guilt trip and the fear-mongering.

My own kids are not obese. They tend to hover somewhere around the 20th percentile on the growth charts when it comes to their weight. They have skinny legs and knobby knees. Try as I might to feed them, they eat less than I think they should. All the same they seem healthy. Kids can be like that, so I don’t sweat it. I know that if they’re really hungry, they’ll eat, and I don’t want to make food a battleground.

What if my kids weren’t so skinny, though? What then? There’s no shortage of articles rushing to blame parents for having overweight kids. Some of them are based on scientific studies. Some of them point the finger at what we pack in their lunchboxes. Some even suggest that parents of obese children should lose custody. And what does all this finger-pointing accomplish? I honestly don’t know.

If our kids are facing health issues, of course we should know. But why the rush to blame parents? In the 1950s we blamed autism on “refrigerator mothers”. It’s an extreme example of an all-too-typical response. The idea that we’re responsible for every aspect of our children’s development is deeply ingrained, and extends far beyond obesity and autism. Does your baby wake often? You’ve created bad sleep habits. Breastfeeding didn’t work out? You didn’t try hard enough. Does your child have a hard time paying attention in class? It’s probably ADHD caused by vaccine injury. But for the love of all that’s holy, don’t drug your child, you bad parent.

We’re constantly being told all about everything we’re doing wrong. Or could be doing wrong. Or probably did wrong in the past, without realizing it, which may lead to some unspecified future disaster. When I get press releases urging me to watch TV shows about childhood obesity, or accusations that allowing my three-year-old to ride in a stroller is contributing to childhood obesity, or yet another sheet full of handy tips for avoiding childhood obesity, it feels like the same sort of thing. We’re doing everything wrong wrong wrong. We’re at fault. We should be scared, and we should also feel guilty.

If childhood obesity is a medical issue, then why don’t we treat it that way? You’d never see fliers on telephone poles advertising classes to help your children avoid asthma or tooth decay. But I regularly see the specter of childhood obesity pulled out in order to promote sporting activities and exercise classes for kids. And how much would those classes really do, anyway? We know that kids need to eat healthy food and get moving, but they need a whole lot more than an hour each week. There’s no weekly class, quick fix or tip sheet that can solve a complex social issue like obesity. When we use childhood obesity as a marketing tool we suggest otherwise, and I don’t think that helps anyone.

I hope that we’re able to make some changes, as a society, that help us all to live longer, healthier lives. I don’t believe that health is all about the number on the scale, either. There’s a whole lot more at play, and the truth is we don’t have a good handle on exactly what factors are leading to increases in health issues like heart disease, cancer and childhood obesity. We know about some contributing factors, but we can’t state definitively what causes any of these. So for now, I wish we’d stop pretending like it’s easy and simple. I wish we’d stop laying blame, and start treating childhood obesity in the same way we’d treat any other medical issue – by leaving it between a family and their health care provider.

By all means, eat healthy food. Get out and get active. Raise important issues about public policy and the food that you find in school cafeterias and the chemicals we’re exposed to and the fact that fewer and fewer kids have recess. But stop using childhood obesity for marketing purposes, and as a tool to create parental guilt. We have more than enough already, thank you.

What do you think? Are you also tired of hearing about childhood obesity – or do you think we should be hearing more? What do you think is the best way to tackle the issue? I’d love your thoughts.

Becoming a Mother: Reflections on my Daughter’s Birthday

Seven years ago yesterday I was awakened at 4:50am by a popping sensation and an intense urge to run to the bathroom. What I knew instinctively – but I didn’t really want to believe – was that it was my water breaking. My due date was still six weeks away, and I had plans for the day that definitely did not involve having a baby. As it turns out, my plans didn’t matter one little bit. Babies will come when they come, and so my daughter Hannah arrived later that afternoon, five pounds and four ounces of life-changing newborn.

People use the phrase becoming a mother as if it happens instantly. The moment your baby draws their first breath, BAM!, you become a mother. My experience says that’s not the way it works. I believe that I started the process of becoming a mother when I pushed Hannah into this world. I have continued it each and every day since then. I am still becoming a mother, with every new experience, challenge and stage. I learn new things, I grow, I change, I evolve. I become more and more the mother I couldn’t yet see on that afternoon in 2005 when I held my newborn child for the first time.

Day 1 in the Incubator

The thing about first babies is that they really come on the journey with you. You teach each other, and learn from each other. It’s not easy, and it’s not always smooth, but always you do it together. I haven’t just spent the past seven years becoming a mother, I’ve spent the past seven years becoming Hannah’s mother. While each baby is unique, and each brings his or her own lessons, the first is always the trailblazer. They are always the experiment in progress, as you hone your skills and find your feet. They are the ones who bring you to your knees in wonder and fear. Can I do this? Can I really be a mother? Yes, yes you can. And anyway, you have no choice – but you’d never choose differently, anyway.

My babies’ birthdays always make me cry. They’re tangible markers of the passing time. Reminders of what was, and how far we’ve come. To mark the occasion I look back on photos, moments captured in time, pieces of my daughter’s childhood. They tell a story – her story – and I am re-reading every word in shadows, reflections and light played out on my computer screen.

Hannah at 1 month old

Helping Mom fold laundry at 8 months

Hiding in the bin

All dressed up for some fun on the playground

Rockstar Fairy, 2 3/4 years old

Smiling Hannah

Experiments in mixing paint colours

Smiling on the swing

Playing under a tree

See the missing tooth?

My girl

Snowy day Hannah

I’ve spent the past few days celebrating Hannah, and all that she is. There was a mother-daughter trip to the aquarium and lunch out, a house full of little girls making sock puppets at full volume, present opening after present opening, and a visit with my family. It was joyous, and raucous and fun. Today, I’m taking the time to celebrate myself.

When I was pregnant, I thought that birth would be the hard part. Now I know that it was just a very small piece – the beginning to an entire human life. I worked hard then, bringing my daughter into the world, and I have worked hard every day since. I have agonized over (and made) hard decisions, cleaned up bodily fluids, soothed hurt feelings and made rush trips to the ER. I have fed, clothed, bathed and sheltered. I have had parent-teacher conferences and meltdowns in grocery store parking lots. I have had moments of transcendence that I can’t begin to put into words. Every day, I carry all of that with me. Every day, it shapes me and changes me. Every day, piece by piece, I become a better, wiser, stronger person. I become a mother.

Happy birthday to Hannah … and happy becoming to me.

My Daughter and Body Image

I watch my daughter Hannah. She’s almost seven years old (!!!), and her father is showing her a dance move. It’s from the Charleston, where you put your hands on your knees and cross and uncross them as you move your knees in and out, in and out. I realize this sounds totally unclear, but it’s the motion depicted in this photo.

In spite of the January chill, Hannah is wearing a short skirt and a T-shirt. As she tries to master the finer points of a dance that’s as old as her great grandmother, she gets a look of intense concentration on her face. Watching her legs and hands and knees, I’m struck by her intense thin-ness. Her little baby rolls are long gone, and in their place is this girl who’s all knees and elbows. Her physique right now is like many other seven-year-olds – thin lines and sharp corners, which never really stop moving, not even when she’s asleep. She’s not big, but she packs a lot of energy in her small frame.

Hannah was skinny when she was born, too. Even skinnier than most newborns, in fact, because as a preemie she didn’t have the time to pack on the body fat that full-term babies do. As a wee babe her smallness conveyed fragility. Now it conveys something else entirely. I can see her muscles working as she dances with her father, and in my eyes she is mighty. She owns her power, and fully inhabits her body, stretching it as far as it can go. Maybe that’s why she’s so skinny – all that stretching did it. As she reaches higher, her body draws in on itself like an elastic band.

Hannah takes a self-portrait

Right now, today, Hannah still loves her body. She tells me about her strength and her speed. She talks about how her belly gets bigger after she eats a big meal, and she tells me that she can fit into her brother’s pants because she’s a “skinny mini”. She describes her body’s bigness and smallness without any trace of malice towards her physical self. She sticks out her gut and says, “Look how fat I can make myself!” and laughs. She doesn’t have any self-esteem issues, and she hasn’t yet learned the lesson of female adolescence that says you should only ever make yourself skinnier, never the other way around.

How long can this last? I don’t know, and truthfully, I don’t really want to know. I love the way that Hannah revels in her body, and all that it can do. I love the way that she brags when her weight on the bathroom scale goes up. I love that she can play around with ideas like big and small, fat and thin, tall and short, and never once cast herself in a negative light. I don’t want this to end, but it’s not in my control.

A 1986 study from the University of California found that 80% of fourth grade girls were on a diet. Given our current preoccupation with childhood obesity and the increasing media bombardment not just from TV but from computers and smart phones and tablets, there’s no reason to think this number has changed. We haven’t become much more enlightened and accepting in the past 25 years. I know that it’s only a matter of time before Hannah will come face-to-face with some of the issues around body image and self-esteem that every girl encounters. I will do my best to help her through, but I’m not even really sure how. How do I help my daughter come out with as few scars as possible?

Today, this is all still in the future. Today, I watch my little girl learn to dance from her father. I watch her smile and move her legs in time to music only she can hear. And I send a silent request to God and the Universe and anyone who’s listening that she won’t forget the truth that she knows today: her body is strong, and perfect, and hers. Skinny (or not-so-skinny) legs and all.

How do you talk to your kids about body image? If you have any resources to suggest, I’m all ears!

My Daughter, Drawing her Art Out

Over two and a half years ago I shared some of my daughter Hannah’s artwork. Sometime right around her fourth birthday some kind of switch turned on and she started to draw. It probably didn’t hurt that we were TV-free at the time, but the blinking box made its way back into our home over a year ago, now, and it hasn’t slowed Hannah’s artistic output one bit. This kid churns out artwork at an amazing rate. And while I am admittedly somewhat biased, being her mother and all, I have to say that she’s pretty good for her age. In fact, she’s probably better than me, and I am five times her age.

Hannah spends a lot of time honing her art. She plays with different techniques and tools. Sometimes she paints, sometimes she uses pencil crayons or markers, often she opts for pastels. Sometimes she goes mixed media. She observes the world around her, and then does her best to capture it on paper. For example, in her drawing of a “Grouchy Fairy” she attempted to replicate the single eyebrow raise that her father does when he’s kind of annoyed. She adds white spots to her work to indicate glints of light, and switches up her techniques for drawing eyes or mouths. Sometimes her people have noses, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes she adds texture and movement through shading.

Hannah creates several works of art every day. On non-school day, she can create 10 drawings or more. She’s generous with her artwork, offering it to others as gifts. I receive many every week. And while I love to see each and every drawing that my daughter creates, all that art adds up quickly. The reality is that there just isn’t space for all of it in my house. We have a system for cycling through it, saving the highlights and capturing the essence. I’ve considered scanning it, but honestly, I’m not sure even that is practical. Hannah makes so many drawings that I would need to set aside a significant chunk of time to handle the digital record-keeping. As it is, many of Hannah’s works end up in the recycling bin.

When Hannah realizes I’ve disposed of her work, she’s usually a little bit sad. Now that she’s almost seven, though, she’s starting to understand. We continue to work together to save the ones she holds most dear, but she has come to a point where she doesn’t feel mortally offended every time I toss a half-finished drawing from six months ago. It’s progress. And the good news is that it hasn’t dampened her spirit. She draws just as much as she ever has.

I love seeing Hannah’s creative spirit at work, and I want to encourage it. I’ve enrolled her in art classes, but the didn’t really work for her. She wasn’t happy about being told what to draw – she prefers to come up with her own ideas. When I collaborated with a local artist for an article on VancouverMom.ca, I shamelessly accosted her, asking her for tips on nurturing my child’s love of art. She said that the best thing any parent can do is provide their child with supplies and space to work. So, I continue to do that, and Hannah continues to create at an amazing pace. I hope it never stops.

Do your children express themselves creatively? How do you encourage it? And how do you handle the onslaught of paper that comes along with it? I’d love to hear!

Do Kids Need to be Challenged?

I overheard one mom talking to another mom on the playground: “I think the books my daughter’s reading at school are too easy for her. I asked her teacher to give her harder ones, because I want her to be challenged. If she gets bored – game over.”

I understand this mom’s concerns. She wants to be sure that her child has access to reading material that interests and engages her. In response, she’s taking an active role in her daughter’s education and discussing it with her teacher. She’s doing her best for her child, and I think that’s great. But I also wonder – do kids really need to be challenged? And if they’re not, what then?

Right now we’re on day 11 of Christmas vacation. My six-year-old Hannah won’t be going back to school for another week. Now that Christmas is over and the flurry of activities and visits and gift openings is done, I can report that she is bored. She tells me as much countless times every day. Sometimes, I respond by engaging her in activities. This is a school holiday, and on one level I see it as an opportunity for us to spend time together. But other times, I have stuff to do – or I just plain need a breather. When that happens, I tell Hannah that boredom is character-building. At first, she whines in response, but usually within a few minutes she’s found something to entertain herself with.

I tend to think that a certain amount of boredom is good for kids. I think that the boredom I suffered as a child gave me skills that I use on a daily basis. Like, say, when I’m playing a game with my kids that totally bores me. I know how to buckle down and do things that aren’t that interesting or engaging to me. I know how to fill up my time when it’s not filled for me. And I know how to make my own fun. These are all things I learned during my own school vacations, when long days with nothing to do stretched before me.

I also had the experience of not being particularly challenged in school. I graduated first in my high school class of approximately 500 students, which is really just a pretentious way of saying that I was the smart kid. I usually finished my work before everyone else, and then I filled my time with quiet activities. If I was really lucky, I would get to go play on the class computer (when we had one, which wasn’t always – this was the 1980s, after all) or take something to the office. If I wasn’t so lucky, then I would look out the window or make up stories in my head. Was this time productive? I don’t know. But I do know that, once again, my boredom taught me some skills that I still use today.

There’s actually something of a debate amongst experts about the utility – or futility – of boredom. Some people say that gifted students need to be challenged more. If they’re not, the argument goes, they won’t reach their full academic potential. And to some degree, I can see their point. If a teacher has a class of 20 students, that teacher likely won’t be able to address their individual needs fully. This means that some students will be effectively held back by those who don’t catch on as quickly. Wouldn’t it be better if those smart kids had something more useful to do while they waited for everyone else to catch up?

I wonder, though, how far it’s really reasonable to go in terms of maximizing each student’s potential. I attended engineering school with some seriously smart folks. Some of them managed to graduate from high school one, two or even three years early. If a really gifted student is allowed to progress at their own pace, they may master all their high school material when they’re only 15 or 16 years old – and what then? Being an academic genius does not necessarily qualify you to navigate the world of post-secondary education, which is created for adults. I found the adjustment to be pretty huge even as an 18-year-old.

Of course, a world full of Doogie Howsers is not necessarily the outcome of challenging students appropriately. Giving gifted students access to enrichment programs can give them a little something extra, while they progress through school at the same rate as their peers. Ultimately, this is what I did. I took International Baccalaureate classes in high school. I was also a Girl Guide, I volunteered as a candy striper, I sang in a choir and I studied Tae Kwon Do. I found ways to fill my time and challenge myself, but that only came later, when I was a teenager. When I was my daughter’s age, I spent a fair bit of time being bored.

Some experts agree with my belief that boredom can be good for kids. They say that like all emotions – including anger, sadness and jealousy – boredom serves a purpose. And so when you’re faced with some unstructured time during a school vacation, you shouldn’t rush to fill it. Letting your kids figure it out for themselves helps them to develop emotionally and intellectually.

There’s one more idea that plays into the debate on challenging kids or letting them entertain themselves, and that’s the concept of flow state. Flow is that thing you experience when you’re totally present in an activity. You may not even notice that time’s passing, because you’re so engaged. In order to experience flow, you have to be appropriately challenged. This means that the task you’re working on shouldn’t be super-easy for you, but it also shouldn’t be super-hard. It should be just hard enough that you have to think about it a little. Video games are a good example of something that creates flow for most people, because as you master the game it gets progressively harder. If it’s designed well, you’ll always be in the perfect zone, and you won’t be bored or frustrated.

Good leisure (and probably good educational) activities actually are a little bit challenging, so that they create that flow state. But the question is – how do we get to those leisure activities? Do we just plop our kids down in front of video games, or send them to classes? Or, do we let them figure it out for themselves? I would argue that we probably should do a little bit of both. I think that sometimes, boredom is useful because it forces kids to try new things to entertain themselves. In the process, they may find activities that create that flow state for them. This is how Hannah found drawing. But I don’t think we should totally idealize the idea of unstructured time, either. There are benefits to exposing kids to new ideas and new experiences, too. I think the true challenge of parenting is determining just where that balance lies – at least until Christmas vacation is over.

What do you think – do you think kids need to be challenged more, or do you think that boredom is good? And how do you get that balance right? I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Three-Year-Old Logic

Three-year-olds are fantastic – when they’re not wearing you down to a nub. They’re enthusiastic, energetic and expressive. Their vocal skills are growing by leaps and bounds, and you get a better view with each passing day of the little people they’re becoming. They’re constantly gaining new skills, and becoming more independent. They’re also starting to develop some rudimentary logic, which they’re only too willing to share with you.

You might think the phrase “three-year-old logic” is something of an oxymoron. And really, you’d have a point. From an adult perspective, their reasoning leaves a little something to be desired. But from where they stand, I’m sure it all makes perfect sense. To give you some examples of three-year-old logic at work in my house, I thought I’d share some conversations I’ve had recently with my own three-year-old, Jacob.

Jacob in his bunny ears
You might think he’s posing as a bunny rabbit, but he’s actually the Big Bad Wolf here.

A Real Boy

Me: Jacob, let’s put on your shirt.
Jacob: I don’t like that shirt.
Me: Okay, which shirt do you like?
Jacob: I don’t like shirts. I want to be a real boy.
Me: You are a real boy. Real boys wear shirts sometimes.
Jacob: But I need a real boy shirt!

You Say Yes

Jacob: I want Rice Krispie treat.
Me: It’s not time for treats, it’s time for breakfast.
Jacob: But, I want Rice Krispie treat.
Me: You can have Rice Krispie treat later.
Jacob: No. I say I want Rice Krispie treat, and you say yes. Say yes to Rice Krispie treat!

Batman and the Bathroom

Jacob: I have to pee.
I grab him and head for our main bathroom.
Jacob: No, I need Daddy’s bathroom!
Me: Why do you need Daddy’s bathroom?
Jacob: Because of Batman!

It’s Broken!

I hand Jacob a piece of banana bread.
Jacob: Look, I’m breaking my banana bread!
Me: I can see that. Maybe you should eat your banana bread instead.
Jacob: Oh no! But I can’t eat it, it’s broken!

Have you experienced any kid logic of your own recently, whether from a three-year-old or any other age? Share it!

Little Ms. Sparkle Ears

I got my ears pierced for the first time when I was four years old. I have a vague memory of being in the hair salon getting it done, but it’s all very hazy. What I do remember clearly is crying in preschooler agony each and every time my mother cleaned my ears in the days that followed. Before I had made it through the period when I was allowed to remove my earrings, one of them came out somehow at a family holiday party. We searched for it in vain. My mother tried to put one of her earrings in my ear, but I sobbed hysterically and she eventually gave up the ghost. She took out my other earring and the holes closed over shortly.

My sister, eager to show me up, had her ears pierced just one year after I did, when she was still three years old. She did not sob hysterically every time my mother cleaned her ears. She did not lose an earring at a holiday party. Her ears never closed over, not even once. She is such a piercing star, in fact, that she went on to have her bellybutton and her tongue pierced in her young adulthood. I don’t believe she has either piercing left, but it’s clear that this is one area where my kid sister has it all over me.

When I was 12, I had my ears pierced again. I was at the mall when I did it on a whim. My mom was there, because I think I needed her permission. I remember that piercing much more clearly. I remember the brief stab of pain, which was shocking but not altogether horrible. I remember that I did the after-care myself, and it wasn’t a big deal. I remember my love affair with earrings as a 13-year-old. The bigger the better, was my motto. While I don’t often wear earrings today, I still put in a pair often enough that my ears haven’t closed over (at least not completely).

Hannah strikes a pose pre-ear-piercing
Hannah strikes a pose outside the Claire’s

When my first child, Hannah, was a baby, I decided that I needed an ear-piercing policy. My own mother had our ears pierced when we were preschoolers, and for me it clearly wasn’t good timing. I know that some cultures pierce their daughter’s ears in infancy, with the idea that the babies can’t pull at their ears or otherwise interfere with the healing process. I know that other parents make their kids wait until their teens or beyond to have it done. I think either of those are fine, but neither was for me. Eventually, I decided to wait until my kids decided to have it done themselves. I remember thinking, “They’d probably have to be at least six to make that decision.”

Hannah is now six-and-a-half, and about a week ago she asked to have her ears pierced. We talked about it a lot. I explained that it would hurt, and that we’d have to take care of her ears for a long time after it was done. I told her she wouldn’t be able to take her earrings out at first, even to sleep. I let her sit with the whole thing for a couple of days, but she stuck to her decision: she wanted her ears pierced. This is how, last Friday afternoon, I found myself at Claire’s picking out earrings with my daughter.

Hannah falls in love with the Claire's
Hannah falls in love with Claire’s

Up until last week, Hannah had never set foot in Claire’s before. Let me tell you, she fell hard the moment she walked in. A! Whole! Store! Filled! With! Sparkly! Things! Even as she sat in the chair waiting for her ears to be pierced, her eyes never stopped moving. She was nervous, and excited, and way overstimulated, but she also had her game face on. They got two people to do the piercing, so she could have both ears done at the same time, which reduced the agony considerably from where I stood. When she had it done she cried a little bit, until she caught sight of herself in a mirror. Oh, the sparkly ears! She loves them.

As for me, I was totally fine until after Hannah’s ears were pierced. Then I had a moment when I realized my daughter’s ears would never be the same again. My baby had been permanently altered, and I had paid for it, and she’s growing up so fast, and, and, and, and. Mostly, though, I’m happy that she’s happy. And let me tell you, she is happy. She stops random strangers on the street to show them her new earrings. She made a choice, and she carried it through, and in the process she grew up just a little bit in front of my very eyes. Oh, the bittersweet! You can see it for yourself here:

Do you have pierced ears? How old were you when you had it done, and what was it like? What about your kids – are their ears pierced, and how old were they when it happened? I’d love to hear your ear-piercing stories!

Wonder Man

When I was a little kid my father used to watch the 1970s TV show Wonder Woman with me. Since he passed away almost 20 years ago, I can’t ask him why. My husband Jon believes he enjoyed watching Lynda Carter fight bad guys in her skimpy costume. My mother says that he was trying to communicate a lesson of empowerment to his daughter. I choose to believe it was a little bit of both. Even if his motives were pure, there’s no denying that Wonder Woman pulled off that outfit, and he was not blind.

Lynda Carter as Wonder WomanRecently, I started watching old episodes of Wonder Woman with my six-year-old daughter, Hannah. She’s completely smitten with the character, and has taken to wearing her bathing suit around the house with a pair of underwear over top and a necklace tucked into her waistband to serve as a lasso. She even has a pair of knee socks to serve as Wonder Woman’s boots. When I call her Hannah – because, you know, it’s her name – she patiently corrects me: “Mama, I’m being Wonder Woman.” When I let slip that I had Wonder Woman Underoos as a child, she had no end of questions. Wonder Woman is a big deal at our house right now. I understand it, because she was a big deal to me when I was Hannah’s age.

Wonder Woman actually has a fair bit going for her. Unlike Supergirl or Batgirl she is a woman, not a girl. You wouldn’t dream of calling a male superhero a boy if he were any older than 16 or 17, so why must we call female superheroes girls forever? More to the point, though, Wonder Woman is a superhero in her own right, not a spin-off of a male character. Wonder Woman UnderoosAs an Amazon princess, she comes from a female-only society. While it does beg a few questions in terms of procreation, I appreciate that she doesn’t play second fiddle to anyone. Plus, she’s strong, fast and powerful, and she can deflect bullets with her snazzy bracelets. If my daughter wants to emulate a superhero, she could do far worse.

I don’t only have a daughter, I also have a three-year-old son, Jacob. Like countless younger siblings before him, he wants to do what his big sister is doing. As a result, he is also fascinated by all things Wonder Woman. At first, Hannah tried to assign Jacob the role of Steve, Wonder Woman’s love interest. Jacob was having none of that – he wanted to be Wonder Woman, too. And who can blame him? She’s way, way cooler than Steve. It presented something of a conundrum to Hannah, though, since the game didn’t work as well for her if they were both playing the same character. After much discussion, an understanding was reached: Hannah would be Wonder Woman, and Jacob would be Wonder Man.

Hannah imagines "Wonder Man"
Hannah’s depiction of Wonder Man – on the left he’s on Paradise Island, on the right he’s in his super suit.

I have to admit that I kind of love the Wonder Man character (who has no relation to the comic book character Wonder Man). While it does fly in the face of the whole Amazon princess thing, I appreciate that my children have turned superhero tradition on its head by creating a male counterpart based on a female character. In their play, Wonder Woman remains the leader, and Wonder Man pretty much does whatever she says. Which isn’t surprising, really, since Wonder Woman is the six-year-old and Wonder Man is the three-year-old. Plus, the necklace he’s using as a lasso is smaller, because that’s what his big sister gave him.

I’m sure that one day my son will realize that boys aren’t “supposed to” pretend to be female superheroes. In the 1980s, when we all wore our Underoos, the Wonder Woman ones were clearly for girls, while boys had Spiderman or Superman. This does present a whole host of issues for me, because, really, if there’s anytime when crossing gender lines should be allowed it’s in children’s play. And yet, our children live in our society and they receive our societal messages, so I expect that Jacob will, too. For now, though, I’m soaking up a game that has the woman leading the way. Maybe my dad was on to something after all – whether he secretly enjoyed watching Lynda Carter bounce around in that bodysuit or not.

So, tell me – did you have Wonder Woman Underoos? Who was your favourite superhero as a child? And do you think it’s cool that Superman gets to be a man but Supergirl is stuck as a girl? I’d love to hear!

Cardboard Playhouse: The Review I Couldn’t Say No To

I have done very few product reviews on Strocel.com. Partly it’s because I often don’t feel comfortable reviewing many of the products that are typically pitched to parent bloggers for review, and partly it’s because I want to make sure that what I’m writing about is compelling and engaging material. I’m just not sure my thoughts on kitty litter are all that compelling and engaging, even if I could ignore the fact that the kitty litter in question may cause breathing problems in cats. Sometimes, though, something comes into my inbox and it’s so awesome I can’t say ‘no’. This was the case with the children’s cardboard playhouse from Boutique Cascades.

Our new playhouse

I know the Cascades name from their environmentally-friendly toilet paper. According to their website, they’re one of the largest paper recyclers in North America, together with their partner Metro Waste Paper Recovery. Their products are made of recycled paper, from consumer and industrial sources. They’re branching out, and they’ve recently launched a line of children’s cardboard furniture. When they offered me a free playhouse for review purposes, I jumped on it.

Side view of the decorated playhouse

I have seen cardboard playhouses online before, and my reaction was always, “Really? Can’t you just use a regular box?” My kids have had improvised cardboard playhouses before, made out of old boxes, and they were great. I didn’t see why I would shell out $48 for something that I could get for free. Since getting the playhouse, setting it up, and watching my kids play in it for over a week, though, I have to say that this is much different than an old box. The cardboard in the playhouse is far thicker and sturdier. Plus the playhouse includes features like skylights and windows, so that it’s bright inside, as well as little touches like a chimney, awnings, mailbox and front and back doors with window cut-outs.

The front of the playhouse

The playhouse was relatively easy to assemble, once I decided to actually read the instructions. Far easier than any IKEA furniture I’ve put together, and I didn’t have to use any tools. It’s much bigger than it looks in photos, too. My husband and I can easily sit inside it at the same time. We can’t stand up, of course, but it’s pretty roomy. In fact, if I had realized just how roomy, I would have invested a little more thought in where I set it up. Once it’s up it can be moved – but not easily. It’s reasonably lightweight, but it’s awkward and you’d need to partially disassemble it to get it through doors or up stairways.

Jon inside the playhouse

Because the playhouse is made of cardboard, it likely won’t last forever. I think it could last a fair while, though, as long as you don’t leave it outside in the rain. It’s pretty rugged, and so far it’s stood up to whatever my kids have thrown at it. Plus, when you’re done with it, it’s biodegradable and recyclable. Plastic houses don’t last forever, either … except in the landfill. I feel better knowing that when my kids are done with their toy, it won’t end up in a garbage dump.

Decorating the inside of the playhouse

The big upside of the cardboard house is that you can decorate it, and my six-year-old Hannah has been doing just that. She practiced her printing by labeling the doors and the mailbox, and writing messages inside. She’s created an art retreat / play fort, and she and her three-year-old brother disappear inside for 30 minutes or more at a time. They are really grooving on the playhouse, and I am grooving on a shared interest that gives me time to make dinner.

Snack time is always more fun inside the playhouse

I’m gushing, I know, but I heart my playhouse. When I look at how much my kids have enjoyed it, and I consider that it costs less than many, many toys that get far less play, I think I would have felt pretty good about my purchase if I had paid for it. As much fun as an old cardboard box is, it can’t hold a candle to the playhouse. Which, by the way, is something you shouldn’t do, because if you hold a candle to a cardboard playhouse, it will catch fire. Safety first, people.

If you’d like a playhouse of your own, or any other cardboard children’s furniture, Boutique Cascades is generously offering 25% off your purchase if you use the code STROCEL before November 30, 2011. Now, if you’re looking for me, I’ll be drawing smiley faces on the playhouse walls.

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