I had no idea. I guess I had vaguely seen brightly colored kinked plastic bracelets on kids in passing at Little League, at the grocery store, just around. I thought they were just some new kind of jelly bracelet. And something girls were into. I have two boys who have zero preference about what they wear EVER. So bracelets just weren’t on my radar screen.

Plus my six year old is kind of a serious, by the book, I want to do my own thing kind of kid. Peer pressure has yet to sway him too much.

But recently he has been untethering his independence. And shrugging on the language of a grown up kid.

“Mom that is so awesome, did you see that play? So cool. Dude.”

And I’ve been seeing him goof off in the dug out and wrestle his friends to the ground at the park and yell out the open car window at friends: “Hey! Ryan! Matthew G.! Hey you guys!!! Over here!”

This is nothing like my timid, skirt clinger who hid under a table for his first two months of preschool.

And this is a good thing.

But the other day, my boy watched a pack of kinky braceleted kids walk by. He turned and looked up at me.

“Mom. You know those Silly Bands?”

“Those what?”

“Silly Bands. …They’re cool.”

“Oh yeah?”

He had grabbed my attention. Because in my mind, my sweet boy was perpetually hiding under the world’s table, yet to really peer out. His teachers describe him as very quiet. A good boy. Bright, straight As, certainly the least of their concerns. But my husband and I always worry about how it all goes down with his peers. We fret over his “cool” factor. And were we doing anything at all to encourage or maintain it?

So these Silly Bands. They are indeed a new version of jelly bracelets but apparently every one of his friends wear them at school. And when you take them off, they make shapes. And sometimes glow in the dark. They’re cool. I guess.

“Do you want some too?”

“Yeah.”

So after dropping him off at school yesterday, I pulled up to Walgreens. Their digital billboard outside blinked that they had just received a new shipment of Silly Bands. Huh. Am I the LAST person to know about these things?

I walked in. I couldn’t find them. I walked up to the twice my aged cashier, half dozing on his stool. “I’m looking for these… um…” and started touching my wrists. Before I could spit out the word “bracelet”, he pointed me to a bin at his right.

“Silly Bands. Oh I know all about those. Fastest selling things in the store.”

Even the guy two times my age at Walgreens was more current than I am. Ok then. I grabbed two packs.

And while the “letter” ones I had picked out apparently aren’t as cool as the animals or other shaped ones, my six year old carefully put each colored band on. He practiced walked around the house, staring down at his wrists. He kept stopping, taking them off, arranging them in rows, and putting them back on. We made a special ziploc bag for them. We talked about which ones the other kids had. And this morning, he put them all back on. Coolness checked and rechecked, he stomped out the door, backpack bouncing behind him. And I caught him glance down at his wrists one more time before he was gone.

I should know better. I remember jelly bracelets and slap bands and garbage pail kids and sticker albums. I remember how badly I wanted to be able to have some reference of cool in first grade. I remember wanting to “get it”.

So while I’m not rushing out buying every Wii game the other kids have or electronic whatever just so my kid maintains his cool, I think investing a few bucks in some strange little plastic bracelets so my kid feels like he can be part of something is absolutely worth it.

Silly Bands. Cool kid. Happy mom.

Particularly toy clutter. Toy clutter that had not been properly played with in months – maybe years.

That just would not do.

So I pulled out some plastic bags and a couple empty boxes, again innocently enough. It was time to collect all the unplayed with stuff and haul it away. It was taking up precious real estate in our cozy home in dire need of Christmas decor.

I never expected all of that toy clutter would actually retaliate.

I never expected that once I pulled a few things out and started sorting, it would pour out and surround me.

Soon there were little people lined up in formation on the floor, matchbox cars of every make surrounding me and plastic dinosaurs precariously placed on their sides – ready to mangle any bare foot. And electronic devices of all sorts, going off, squealing hideous obscenities, as their batteries died within.

The kids stayed back. Maybe the reason they hadn’t been playing with these toys was now more apparent. Maybe they were afraid. These things weren’t toys. They were parent seeking, clutter making, plastic, broken, noisy, insidious attack militia with my sanity as their target.

It seemed the more I pulled out to sort, the more cluttered the house got, the less I knew what to do with it all and then… I got stuck. Every toy box empty. All of it out. And sorted. But I had no idea what to do next. Trash? Give away? Keep? And where?

And where had it all come from in the first place??

I swear I never buy my kids toys. Their birthdays and Christmas – yes. But I’m not a “stuff” person. And they don’t beg for it either. So I thought we had it under control.

I was wrong.

Happy meal toys, headless Star Wars action figures, dried up markers, broken train track, puzzle pieces, fake food with real tooth marks. And then bits of colorful plastic that I didn’t recognize at all, broken off from something or another. Those drove me most insane. Do I keep this? Is this something they need for something they have but don’t play with because this piece is missing? Or is it a smashed up something or other that we tossed long ago and this one piece remains. What is it???

So, in retaliation, I started bagging. I wouldn’t look those stuffed animals in the eye, I couldn’t remember how much my eldest son adored that ragged old teether, I disregarded all sentiment and just got bagging. It was my only defense, I tell you. What else was a mother to do?

And I think the books were the hardest. Books we read a thousand times over, that my children found so much joy with, that taught them their first words or signs or colors. Words are my downfall. I’m a sucker for them. I loved those stories. But I couldn’t let them drag me down. If they weren’t reading them now, if they weren’t NEEDED any longer, they got thrown in a box. I knew what had to be done.

Panting, an entire weekend after the job was begun, I stood triumphant over two enormous trash bags of toys, two boxes of children’s books – all for give-away – and one huge bag of trash. What toys that remained had a home: the little people were caged in plastic boxes, match box cars parked away, and anything that threatened the tender under sole of an adult foot was snapped shut in tupperware.

Success. Victory! The toy boxes were under my control once again. And as I loaded the back of my car up with my prisoners of war, the kids gingerly stepped forward to peer into them again. There’s my favorite phone! You found my Cars car! My Star Wars book!

And so I revel in the room left behind. My Christmas clutter decorations have found spots in and amongst it all. There is peace in the land.

Until Christmas morning. Until everything is unwrapped and the toys begin to regroup, reorganize and rebuild their assault. It will happen again. But until then. I win.

Did I yearn to be the blond, unrealistically proportioned bean pole that she represented? Well. Not consciously. Do I think Barbie sets unrealistic body image ideals in girls minds? Um, yeah I do.

But I still loved playing with them. And the glorious imaginary world I created (and escaped into) with them was worth whatever mind melding she did to me. Yeah, I hate my baby belly and wished I could tighten up some and my chest is so far from the example she set for me… but whatever. Barbie was a blast!

And back then, my Barbie came something like this.

The other day I gathered my courage and braved Toys R Us. I rarely set foot in there. It gives me a headache. Too much plastic. Maybe its a BPA thing.

But it’s that time of year again (you know – the most wonderful time of the year?), so I headed in during a rare child-free moment. And. I will admit something. When I walked past all those aisles in Toys R Us, I slowed right down when I saw all the pink.

The Barbie Aisle.

I remember all of those wistful moments spent in the pink aisle of Toys R Us as a little girl, day dreaming about all the cool Barbies and extras and houses and cars and horses and fun I could have. So I couldn’t help but sneak a peak and see whats in there. Yes, even with the stupid body image crap that I so wish Barbie didn’t perpetuate, I would have bought Barbies for my daughter if I had one.

So there I was the other day. Checking out the goods, slightly wistful, at the ripe old age of 36.

And that’s when I saw this new Barbie being sold.

Um.

What the hell?

(And please note. She has been turned demurely here for the pic. The plunge is much “plungier” when seen full frontal, so to speak.)

Ok, so I could forgive the big boobs and wasp like waist before because Barbie was wearing clothes that actually covered up those distorted parts. For the most part. But this one? Wearing “a striking black dress with plunging neckline”???

Oh no. Not ok. Sorry Barbie. A dress cut down to your navel is not part of the Barbie world I come from. Nor should it be for any little girl. I just can’t push my feminist tendancies aside for this (must crack horrid holiday pun here… wait for it…) “Ho Ho Ho” look.

Just bad.

And so is the slightly oversized, Brat doll-esque head that gives the illusion that her strangely disproportionate body is even tinier than it was before. Yep, Barbie has slimmed down so much, her head – with hardly much substance to hold onto – may loll off its own body and roll away.

Don’t call this fashion. Don’t call this keeping up with your market. Don’t call this anything but a reeeeally bad idea. Oh. And you know what else I’d call this doll.

Ho Ho Ho.

Merry Christmas.

So, I was standing there in the toy section of Target today, with my two year old tantruming at my feet (same ol’, same ol’), and my Christmas budget numbers swimming in my head… when I hit a wall.

Not a real wall, although, that is certainly possible these days. My tantruming child and bad eyes can keep me from walking in a straight line a LOT of the time. However, the wall I hit was a mental one. I had to stop. The colorful boxes and stacks of hasbro toys piled to the ceiling just seemed to blur together…

What am I going to get my kids for Christmas?

I really have NO idea.

Ok, the BIG gift is taken care of. It’s really a huge splurge for us. But we couldn’t help it. My husband calls it the “Red Ryder bb gun of today’s generation”. What is it? Drumroll… a Wii. Yeah, none of you folks are shocked as your own fingers itch to try your own hidden Wii out too… maybe if I just tested it, maybe if I just sliiiid it out of it’s box ever so carefully… Um. I digress.

So we have the “Red Ryder” gift for the big day. And in some ways, that’s pretty good and everything else should be knick knacks off the dollar store shleves, right? Well, yeah, the two $1.00 Snoopy coloring books I wound up buying at Target (after hitting said wall) certainly count for that. But if I *DID* happen to want to pick up a few more things, and make those carefully earned and budgeted dollar bills really count… what should I get? I am really at a loss this year.

And I have been happy to give out advice about what to give other people’s pre-schoolers but that’s stuff I already know about – or have. But standing there in Target, with beautifully, exciting and fun packaged stuff all around me… well, I didn’t know what to do. What should I get?

By the way – YES – I have asked T. what he wants for Christmas. His response? An etch-a-sketch… and a Wii. Ok, so maybe I should just leave it at that. But, c’mon, a couple more things can’t hurt, right?

Now, I know there are plenty of you out there with a wealth of knowledge about cool toys. So I am asking for your help. Here are my parameters, I have the following:

• One shy five year old boy who loves Star Wars, techie stuff, board games and most sports.
• One loud, tantrumy out-going two year old who loves Mickey Mouse, pirates, cars and trucks and things that go.
• One limited budget, but still – there is money to be spent on a few key items.

And not to sound picky, but if I’m gonna spend our money on Christmas presents for my kids, I want them to be really fun, interesting, and even educational. Not just more brightly colored, plasticky STUFF that will break, get piled in a corner and left. (And then finally heaped into boxes for Salvation Army, you should SEE the pile I’ve got going in my garage right now.)

So, yeah, I’m still stuck.

What ARE those one or two brilliant, “must have” gifts? YOU TELL ME. I welcome all suggestions. Even from toy peddlers or PR people or what have you. Bring it on. Come one, come all. I am open to anything. Post links, assuming they are appropriate, I’ll make sure they won’t get spammed out. I value your opinion and will consider each suggestion.

(And posting your ideas here mean other moms will get ideas too. So please share your wealth of knowledge!)

It’s the holidays - help a mother out!

Thanks folks.

Please tell me you do this, because I do this ALL the time.

And guess what? I consider you are all close friends of mine, so I am going yammer on here for a little bit. Inspired by my “always the link lover” friend Florinda at the 3 Rs, I want to share some links that have me thinking this week as well as just some stuff I like. I am warning you, it will be haphazard, one sided and excessively chatty. But you all don’t mind right? That’s whats friends do, at least what my wonderfully patient friends do, I guess.

First of all, Ike. Yup, the hurricane. It busted right through Texas last week, remember? I know all I saw were live garbled feeds of newscasters positioning themselves in the wind, doing their damnedest to get knocked over. (Is that like some sort of notch on a weather forecaster’s belt? To get blown over during a hurricane?)  And then I saw some pretty insane damage being reported the following day. But then little by little, I haven’t heard much else thanks to our piss-poor economy and election updates.

Well, here’s the scoop. A fabulous blogger, Julie Pippert, expereinced the hurricane for herself. Please read her plea for help here. Things there are NOT ok. And as you will read in her post, a donation to the red cross, even $5, will make an enormous difference. Please consider giving.

How much disposable stuff do you go through? How many paper towels? How many grocery bags do you stuff in your closet or throw away? How many diapers do you use? How many wipes? The Crunchy Domestic Goddess is running a Ditch the Disposables Challenge for September and October. She is asking all of us to try and cut down on some of your disposable products. My goal is to not use paper towels or paper napkins but use cloth towels and sponges. (Shoot, its partially a selfish thing, paper towels are expensive!) Also I am desperately trying to keep using those cloth grocery bags. I think I am doing pretty well with it actually! They stay on my car front seat so I have them ready to go. Also, I am using my old plastic grocery bags as my trash bags and won’t buy actual trash bags either.

Can I just make one more plea for folks? Join the 29 Day Giving Challenge! It’s really been a lot more do-able than I expected. Plus, I am having fun trying to think up a new thing to give everyday. Often I have 2 or 3 things on my list!

Um, this is kind of an obvious one (but who am I to ignore the obvious). A veeery important election is coming up. Have you registered to vote? Do me a favor and please make sure you are registered.

If you know me, you know I feel very strongly about equal rights. One of these rights is marriage – loving couples of every sexual preference deserve the right to marry. A fantastic writer and person, Lesbian Dad, is living in CA. right now with her family. Please read her blog when you can, and this post has a great video to watch. If you live in CA., vote no on Propostition 8. But you certainly don’t have to live in CA. to donate to the cause, so please consider doing that if you can’t vote. There is a long way to go to change discrimination against same sex couples. Did you know that here in Florida, a same sex couple, or single homosexual person, cannot adopt a child? It’s outrageous.

Speaking of discrimination, do you know what I have been recently stressed out about? Racism in this election. I wonder why this election is so close when Obama seems like such a strong choice. I wonder if he were white, if the spread would be larger. I wonder if this country really wants change… or can change. I know there is a post coming about this in my future but read this post here from Momocrats about individuals out rightly admitting they would never vote for a “black”. (Shudder.)

So why should you really vote for Obama? In case you still need more convincing (and assuming race has nothing to do with your decision… please, tell me it doesn’t), the amazing Queen of Spain did a fab job this week of continuing to back Obama. Read about it here. Don’t know who Queen of Spain is? If you have been watching CNN recently during both the DNC and RNC, you’ve seen her. Shoot, here she is – just a mom blogger in her own right – interviewing Obama himself.

After posting about my son C. getting his doll, I read this article here from Motherhood Uncensored about her son playing with “girl” toys. I thought it was fantastic.

Oh and hey, did you know I am writing for Type A Moms now? I am their “Liberal Moms Editor”. Perfect, huh? Here’s the funny part, I am nervous about having a grown up EDITOR title and, as a result, I am having some major writer’s block for my next (and really first ACTUAL) post. I’ll come up with something - I have ideas of course, but nothing seems good enough quite right. I just need to get into the groove of it and gather some confidence, right? Wish me luck.

Finally, I want to list some fun stuff I just plain old really like.

My 5 year old T. and I have been reading these “From the Black Lagoon” books about different people he might meet at school. They are hysterical and I really recommend them for your children if they are just starting at a new school too!

My 2 yo C. and I have just started Music Together classes. He loves them and the music is fabulous (we truly enjoy the 2 CDs you are given when you sign up, one for the car and one for home). There is great teaching about children’s development for the parents and I honestly get a workout every Friday jumping, spinning, dancing, and marching with my kid. If you’ve got the time, I wholeheartedly recommend signing up for a class with your children in your area.

Need a good gift idea for someone or for Christmas coming up? Hyper-dashis a huge hit in my house. I bought it on a whim and both kids really love it. It really gives them a work out too! Yay for tired children more likely to nap…

We recently were given a subscription to High Five Magazine. What fun for my kids to get a magazine in the mail too! They read it cover to cover, T. loves the Spanish learning section in particular.

And another adorable book that I can’t get enough of? The Peace Book. LOVE IT.

Maybe you haven’t heard of the website Starfall? It is honestly the best letter and phonics learning website out there. And that’s not just my opinion. My teacher friends, my pediatrician and my speech pathologist aunt all heartily agree. T. likes to put it on with C., teaching him the ABC’s while playing fun songs and games. Its really terrific, they are on it right now.

Oh and I saw a pretty funny movie last night that I hadn’t even heard of. The Promotion. Great actors you (and esp. your husband) love to watch: Sean William Scott (aka Stiffler) and John C. Riley. And the story is just about regular guys trying to get ahead and take care of their families. I really enjoyed it!

And…. I’m spent.

And how was your week?

“Sit down in my thinking chair and think. Think. Thiiink.” – Blues Clues

Do you ever have one of those moments? Those moments that make you stop and think hard, and you keep thinking about that moment long long after it has past? I have had three of those moments this weekend. I thought I would share.

Moment #1

At Target, I ran into a couple moms I know. I know them through my children. We are not particularly close but it’s always good to see these moms, say hello, chat a bit. And so that’s what we were doing. We had not seen each other much over the summer, our kids were in school, starting playgroups, bladdy bladdy blah… there was lots to catch up on.

I am not sure what we were talking about but suddenly, one mother lowered her voice to a whisper and said something like “that’s what a black person would do.” Before I could even think at all, I said “Well, gotta get going, I’ll see you ladies later!” And turned and left. Just like that. It was a gut thing. I just reacted. I didn’t like what I heard, I was offended, and I bolted.

I will admit right here, that has not always been my reaction either. In the past, I have ignored statements like this but carried on the conversation like nothing happened. Or changed the subject. Or tried to find an out for my friend - surely they didn’t mean it the way it sounded - and have allowed them to use the famous disclaimer “not that I am racist or anything”. I have never been proud of myself in retrospect - where I try to smooth over and actually normalize the moment. I may as well have said it myself.

This time I couldn’t ignore it. But I didn’t say anything either. I didn’t say ” I found that remark offensive.” I just bolted. I guess the message may have come across that I didn’t like what she said. Or it could have come across that I just had to go. I dunno. I am not sure how I feel about my reaction and I can’t stop thinking back about it.

Moment #2

We went to Busch Gardens this weekend. We have “fun passes” and go fairly often. Theme parks are to Florida what the Smithsonian is to Washington D.C. We take for granted what people travel for miles with families to see and do.

Anyway, my 5 yo son T. and I were in line for the Flume. You know which ride this is - the log ride – with the big drop at the end where we get all wet. T. is dying to be old enough for roller coasters and this was his first time on a ride with a big drop. So we were really excited – giggling and chatting, we were all wound up about it.

As we were only a few people away from jumping onto our own log, I heard a violent thump from behind me. I turned and saw a woman, slumped back in her husbands arms, eyes rolled up in her head, and an enormous gash – maybe 6 inches across – on her forehead. She had fainted and hit her head on the stairs. Blood was everywhere. We yelled for help, the Busch Gardens attendants were unsure - radioing managers, grabbing paper towels, running, whispering, clueless. I saw the hands of the girl with the paper towels, she was shaking.

Since we were ahead of the woman who fainted, they ushered us onto the flume and off we went. My heart in my stomach: for T. who had never done this before and for this woman, and all the blood, and the moment she was in.

After an exhilarating splashdown, squeals of delight and “let’s do it agains” from T., we pulled back around to get off our ride. I then heard the announcement that the Flume would be closed due to “technical difficulties”. I stepped off and carefully helped T. off too.

And thats when I saw the two boys. They were maybe four and seven. They were huddled together on the stairs, quite a few feet away from the woman lying on the ground. Obviously, they were her sons. They were crying quietly, the older boy had his arms around the younger boy; now and then he would pat his cheek or rock him gently. Like Hansel and Gretel, holding onto to one another, in utter shock, their world had just turned upside down.

I looked to see who was helping them. No one. Their father was too consumed with helping his wife and talking to the paramedics arriving on the scene.

And we were being pushed along and asked to exit on the right.

But those boys. There was a large fence separating where T. and I were and those boys. If only I could have stopped and stayed with those boys. If only I could have offered them some comfort. They were alone, they were too young to know it was going to be ok, they were utterly distraught, they had seen their mommy fall, they saw so much blood. All I can think now is how they will remember that horrible moment for the rest of their lives. Their mother was fine, all would be well, children have seen worse, but my heart broke for those boys in that moment.

Moment #3

I was in Wal-Mart this morning. (OK, ok, I know. I hear your booing. I’ve already said my piece on that place before. With our meager, pathetic, shoe-string budget, it is what it is.) I can’t believe it’s September already, and naturally, my mind is starting to gear up for the holidays. So we were wandering the aisles in the toy section. C. was starting to feel impatient for lunch and I knew my time was running out.

Suddenly C. said “Oooooh, Mama. Baby. Toe TOOT!” (Translation: Oh, mommy, that baby is so cute!) He saw a doll haphazardly left behind on the wrong shelf. C. adores babies. He can hardly keep his hands off any of my friend’s babies. They light up his world, I mean it.

Well, a lightbulb went off in my head. How can it be this child does not have a doll when he loves babies this much?

So off I wheeled in search of a cheap, small baby doll for C. Where could they be?

Oh. Right. The “pink” section.

I have two boys. I don’t get to the pink section often. And I gather all dolls are in the pink section, the girl section. So, into the pink I wheeled. And bingo. There, between the hideous Hannah Montana dress up crap and the Bratz dolls (What the HELL are they about! Ah!), there was a small section of dolls. He played with a few. We picked one out. It has a little hat and a pacifier as accessories. And as excited as he was, he shocked me by being so gentle with that doll. Carefully cradling it, jibber jabbering little comments to the doll, giving it the pacifier, hugging it, patting its head. He played with it all the way to the register, had the doll sitting next to him in his car seat home, on the floor next to him during lunch and, currently, the doll is tucked in T.’s bed across the room from C. as he takes his nap.

So I am glad we found that doll. It’s perfect. 

But I couldn’t help but mutter how crazy it is that the only dolls to be found were in the PINK section.

WHAT. BOYS can’t EVER have a doll?

WHAT. BOYS aren’t ever NURTURING?

WHAT shouldn’t I be encouraging my boy to nurture small babies, to be a good parent some day, for crying out loud!?

Cleary, dolls are for girls. Found only in the PINK section. UGH. GAG.

I should probably mention one thing, however. You know, that the baby we got? He’s dressed in blue. I assume he is a boy doll. And who picked that color out? I did. What was my point? Did I think that having him play with a boy doll, assuming he is a boy because he is in  blue, makes boys playing with dolls THAT much more ok? Like “It’s ok, its a DUDE doll.” The blue doll assures that C.’s masculinity is still intact?

Eh.

So whats that say about me?

Clearly, this Monday, I am lost in my own thoughts. And once again, obviously thinking way too hard about stuff going on around me. But I am guessing these kinds of moments will happen again. And what better home for them but here.

I hope you have a wonderful and less “over thought” start to your week.

Can I ever let it go? Can I just relax and go to a movie without my feminist tendencies standing at alert, arms folded, shooting up warning flares at any mysoginist indiscretion? I only wanted to take my 5 year old son to see the new Star Wars movie for crying out loud. That’s all. What could possibly set me off there? Huh. Well. Practically porn fodder for zit-faced boys everywhere, the outfits on the female characters easily rival - if not actually trump - even the notorious Princess Leia “slave girl” outfit from Return of the Jedi (the same outfit that rocketed numerous 70s children through puberty - including my husband). George Lucas, I’m a big fan and all but… ewww, what are you thinking, you dirty old man?

My brother and I were raised on a very steady diet of Star Wars. At 5 years old, my father took me to see “A New Hope”. Since that first film, each of my family members proudly proclaim themselves Star Wars fans. As children, my brother and I used to sit and listen to the “Emprire Strikes Back” soundtrack for hours, which incorporated a storyline and direct cuts of dialogue from the film itself. I still have it memorized.

Han Solo: Well Princess, it looks like you managed to keep me here a while longer.
Princess Leia:I had nothing to do with it. General Rieekan thinks it’s dangerous for anyone to leave the system until they’ve activated the energy shield.
Han Solo: That’s a good story. I think you just can’t bear to let a gorgeous guy like me out of your sight.
Princess Leia: I don’t know where you get your delusions, laser brain.
(Chewbacca laughs)
Han Solo: Laugh it up, fuzzball.

Good stuff. And yes, after watching these movies on an endless loop for almost 30 years, the images, music, characters and dialogue are permanently burned into my brain. Call me a Star Wars nerd but no sci-fi movie moment gives me goose bumps quite like seeing the words “A long time ago in a galaxy far far away…”

So, my brother and I took T. to see “The Clone Wars”this weekend. Once in the dark theater, my sweet little boy climbed up and sat down, just barely able to keep the seat from flipping up on itself, craning to see over the monstrous bag of popcorn that he insisted keeping on his lap. I was proud to take him to a Star Wars movie (even if it was a weird cartoon sellout off-shoot of the original versions aimed entirely at merchandising for padowan learners like my son, but that’s another post entirely).

It kicked right off with violence. LOTS of it. Guns, shooting, explosions, clone troopers and battle droids being blasted into oblivion. I shifted in my seat. Get a grip. Boys dig this stuff. Save the anti-violence rhetoric for another time, right? Just chill out and think like a 5 year old. So I did, as best as I could, and laughed along with my son when one of the characters burped.

Enter Ahoska: the first female Jedi main character I have seen in a Star Wars film. Cool, right? She was young and feisty, ready to out-wit her male counterparts and take on the bad guys. Yup, cool… except for the revealing half shirt tightly outlining her enormous chest while exposing a perfectly flat brown belly. Blink. And this young Jedi (clearly the female role model of the film) is supposed to be – what - about 15? 16? What the hell is this about?

So the film goes on. More violence, more explosions, more “so-so” George Lucas dialogue. Oh, another female character enters the plot. And who is this? Ventress, the first female Sith (bad guy) character of all the films. Very cool. Again, I am trying to rally some appreciation for the fact Lucas is attempting to promote more strong female characters. But wait. Uh-oh, Ventress has let her cape fall to the ground. And there goes her skirt. She stands glaring, clutching a gleaming double-sided light saber in her fist. She is bald, with full lips painted in purple lipstick, her enormous chest heaving under her own backless half shirt, with a large gap exposing some crazy blue cleavage. Blink, blink. How is that thing even staying on her? Oh, that’s right, its a cartoon, it’s painted on. Literally. While she and Anakin duked it out, all I could see was frame after frame of cartoon T&A.

Meanwhile, Ahsoka is no longer fighting battles. She has been assigned to care for the baby Hut, a pathetic, stinky, burping kidnap victim. Anakin and Obi-wan, both FULLY clothed males mind you, are kicking battle droid ass while she is left to nag Anikin about getting the baby back because he has a fever. Oh come on! How can I not be annoyed at this point?

Ah, now enters Padme Amidala. I dig Padme. As Queen Amidala, she wore gorgeous outfits. She was powerful, she was a Senator, she held her own in battle, she could even fight while pregnant with twins. George Lucas did a pretty good job with her character. But wait. Oh no. Now she is in some white extraordinarily tight – also painted on – outfit. No cleavage but there are these pockets on her shirt that are arranged just so… to look a bit like the shapes of… nipples.

Did you hear that? That was the sound of my hand smacking my forehead. Or perhaps the sound of this generation’s 14 year old boys rocketing themselves in puberty… so to speak.

Seriously folks. I give up. At that point, my feminist tendancies were up in arms, launching a full blown riot in my conscience. While I dramatically grumbled and shifted in my seat, my brother glanced at me, giving me curious looks. What could possibly be up with his sister? And T. is oblivious. He’s just sitting there. Taking it all in. Just as my brother and I enjoyed the previous films, Star Wars images are being burned onto his enthusiastic Jedi-loving 5 year old brain. Terrific.

Ok, ok. Maybe I do need to lighten the hell up. It’s a movie, right? One could also argue that it’s been made for an older crowd, what with all of the violence and gratuitous T&A. That’s not meant for 5 year olds, that’s meant for 14 year olds. (Clearly.) Uh huh. And that’s why all those Star Wars toys on the market, newly encased in plastic and lined up on the shelves at Toys R Us, are labeled for ages 4 and up? Or that’s why the McDonald’s happy meals have Star Wars bobble heads in them? (Much to my son’s utter joy.)

But, honestly, the Star Wars nerd in me LOVES seeing all the star wars gear out now. I am thrilled that my son knows the inner workings of the dark side of the force. I am proud to hear that he wants to be Luke Skywalker for Halloween (even if Han Solo is sooo much cooler… and a total victim since he never got any back story in any of the prequels… again, that’s for another post).

I just get a serious case of the heebie jeebies when I watch a movie like this one with my son. I am literally witnessing physical standards for women’s bodies being imprinted onto his brain. By a cartoon. By Star Wars. By George Lucas.

So Guess what I’m going to be for Halloween? While I bypass my husbands desperate hopes that I wip together a little slave girl outfit, I’m getting out a white sheet, a black belt, some frosty lip gloss and the cinnamon buns for my hair. I’ll show my son what real Star Wars women are supposed to look like.

Heck yeah. May the force be with me.

Walking into Toys R Us still holds the same magic for me as it did when I was a kid. Like something out of a dream, bright primary colored toy boxes were laid out before us, as far as the eye could see, from floor to ceiling. My heart still skips a beat when I pass that wonderful candy pink aisle packed with every kind of cool Barbie stuff. I remember standing in that aisle with my own birthday money, carefully weighing my options, giddy, silly and wanting.

I asked T. where he would like to look first. He said “Star Wars stuff” so we headed there. He went straight up to the $49.00 Darth Vadar/Death Star transformer. “What about this?” “Sorry hon, too expensive.” And then pointed out what things were ok. He touched all the boxes, considering everything but he seemed a bit overwhelmed. So I said that maybe we should walk around a bit and see what else there was.

When we stopped at the Thomas the tank aisle, without any hesitation, he picked up a starter train set for $19.99 and said “I want this!” Perfect! Ok! Let’s go check out.

…”But what about the Star Wars things??”

“Um, no, hon, this train set costs $20.00. You’ve spent all of your money.”

And that’s when it happened. I could practically hear the audible snap. Greed swooped in and clutched my son’s usually rational brain – a beast took over.

“NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! I WANT THE STAR WARS THINGS!!! I WANT THE TRAIN THINGS!!!! I WANT EEEVVVVEEERRREEEETHIIIIIING!!!!!”

He promptly burst into tears and slumped down on the platform displaying all the bikes. While C. ran up and down the bike aisle, with a bike helmet on, T. sobbed. I explained that he couldn’t have everything. $20.00 will only buy him somethings or one thing. Not everything. He was crushed. He was overwhelmed. The decision was impossible.

We finally went with the train set. As we went to check out, we steered clear of the Star Wars aisle for fear he would be set off once again. But what really made me sad was that he wasn’t giddy and excited about his purchase. He seemed resigned. Instead of getting a fun new toy, he looked like he had actually lost something. His eyes were still wet, his face was sad and walked behind me slowly. This was not the fun adventure I thought it would be. The only lesson he learned was there is so much he couldn’t have. Granted, that is a very important lesson for any child, but again, it wasn’t exactly how I thought the experience would go down when we walked in there a half hour prior.

As I have mentioned before, I try to limit too much stuff in our lives. Call it being cheap, being green, or saving space, but we honestly don’t have half the toys his friends do. And even the toys T. has, he only plays with them now and then. T. has never been a stuff guy. Presents are fun to open but he’ll leave something in its box for days and only vaguely find interest when I get his attention and ask him if he wants to open it with me. He is usually happier with a book, playing a board game, playing outside with a ball or in the sprinkler. Of course, he loves T.V. but not too much. He has always seemed “just right” with his need for any sort of excess. He has never hoarded, he has always shared well, and – shockingly – he has never begged or pleaded or demanded a toy (ice cream, yes, a toy no). Until today.

So excuse me as I unleash the mommy guilts within. But, today, I feel like I ruined a little bit of him. I let money become something exciting. I let the stuff become a fun thing to get and find and need. My heart went a little cold when he said “I want everything.” I know this is a human reaction. We all want a shopping spree. We all get excited over stuff. We all get bummed out when we can’t afford something we want desperately. Its normal, he needs to understand how buying things works and understand the value and limits of money. And, I assure you, there will be more birthday money in his future, we will set out for Toys R Us once again, and we will keep working on this lesson until it is good and learned. But, I guess, just to see his first moment where he is actually heartbroken over not getting some sort of stuff… It just didn’t feel so good.

And here’s the kicker. After lunch we pulled out the train, got it all set up (making a figure eight with train tracks is no easy feat, I mean it) and now its sitting there untouched on our family room floor. A few minutes ago, I asked him ”What about your train, T.? Why don’t you play with that for a little bit?” “Its making me boring, mommy” Oh o.k. Terrific.

Stuff. We want it. We stress over it. We use money we don’t even have to buy it. We finally get it, hold it up like a trophy fish scooped out of mall’s ocean. When, most of the time, we really don’t even need it.