When I found out I was having a girl, visions of princesses and fairies went dancing through my head.
I immediately went shopping for everything pink and everything girlie.
When I was a little girl, I was somewhat of a tomboy.
Don’t get me wrong, I loved dolls and pink dresses, Barbies and bows, but you would also find me climbing in trees, playing Cowboys and Indians and riding bikes with the boys.
I took tap and ballet lessons and played sports, I excelled at sports.
When I found out I was having a girl, I think thought this is my chance to be a girlie girl, or at least to experience it.
As I find myself joining in on the Christmas crunch, searching for the perfect doll for my daughter (who let me remind you , is not yet one yet and will probably be more interested in the wrapping paper), I wonder how important is it, the whole doll verses car debate.
My daughter will have lots of dolls and dresses and princess chances as she grows, but now she loves crawling after her brother, playing with his cars and trains and trucks.
She wants to do everything he does.
I think sometimes we force our kids into this natural progression of gender specific toys when maybe we should just let it take it’s natural course, it will most likely get there anyway.
At her age and my son’s age (2 1/2), they are still exploring, just playing with stuff, because it’s fun, not because it is for a boy or a girl.
I was watching The View the other day and one of the hot topics introduced was about gender roles in play. The guest host bought up the story of a preschool boy in her daughter’s class who loved dressing in a princess outfit during play time. He was simply having a good time. And one of the hosts, Sherri, had an issue with this young kid dressing in the “girlie” costume. She claimed if it were her son, she would have a big problem with it.
When did we stop letting kids be kids?
Letting kids develop and grow at their own rate?
As a new mother, I hope that I can do that for my kids.
Give them the space to explore and play, learn and grow.
Give them the space to become their own person, not the one I want them to be, but the one I am proud of them for being.
Parenting is rough, motherhood is enjoyable.