Pimping My Blog or Mommyfesto’s Thoughts on Some EcoStore Products

In the unlikely event, that you actually only care about my thoughts on ecostore's baby shampoo, baby wash and laundry liquid, you can skip the following three paragraphs of this post.

Months ago, a certain blogger named Daddyfesto, posted his opinion on bloggers who use their site to review, link to or discuss certain products. His opinion of such bloggers was not at all kind. In fact, I think if he had to describe those bloggers as wearing any kind of an outfit it might be the very same one Dora will don in the fall. You know where I’m going with this… Anyway, its clear that Daddyfesto passionately believes that the connections made on blogs should be strictly non-commercial. Being true to his art, steering clear of anything remotely resembling product placement or personal promotion, probably works for Daddyfesto because he can afford to take this stance. I’m not talking finances here (well sort of I am, I do after all, have intimate knowledge of Daddyfesto’s finances) I’m simply referring to the fact, that Daddyfesto would never be attracted to the notion of using your blog to get free stuff, because he is not married to someone who is highly concerned with cutting household costs. I, on the other hand, am. So the moral dilemma of pimping my blog is irrelevant to me. What is relevant is the opportunity for free stuff.

Which is why, when I was recently offered the chance to try and review (at no cost to me) some fancy laundry detergent and baby shampoo, I easily shrugged off the inevitable chiding from Daddyfesto, and quickly signed-on to try and review the products. I did however, warn the publicist who contacted me, that while I would be happy to review the products, I couldn’t guarantee that I would say something nice about them. In the spirit of full-disclosure I should tell you that I was not selected to review these products for any particular reason, in fact I was hardly selected at all. I’m pretty sure, the publicist contacted everyone with a blog listed on the momblogs (I know he contacted Rachel at AReservationforSix), and I was just one of the mommy-bloggers running low on laundry detergent and baby soap.

I also did it for the mail, I mean, to get some mail that wasn’t a bill, or US Weekly or an invitation to a Silpada party.

So as promised, this is my review of the detergent and soap. First of all, the stuff is all natural (that’s good right?) and even better, its made in New Zealand. What Rand (the company publicist who sent me this stuff) didn’t know, is that I am a huge Anglophile - more like Anglowhore - and I dig anything that comes from any part of the original British Empire. So for me, that’s an irrational plus for any ecostore product. While the baby shampoo and baby body wash are labeled "aromatherapy" all three have a clean, albeit groovy kind of a scent. If you like something a little more fruity and a little less hempy, you might not like these. In fact, the scent of the laundry soap was for me its one defining factor. The clothes appeared to be as clean as they normally are, but who would really know, as clean clothes in my house are defined not by lack of dirt but by virtue of the fact that they are upstairs instead of lodged in the laundry chute. Anyway, my husband travels quite a bit and his long absences (mixed with red wine) have been known to inspire some paranoid thinking in me. This weekend when he came home, I noticed a decidedly different smell on his undershirts. I made a couple of silly remarks and we joked about it, but it wasn’t until I remembered that I had used the ecostore laundry liquid on his undershirts that I put the matter to rest. I know it has nothing to do with performance, but I did love the packaging on all of the bottles. The black and white, family snap shot look, just makes me feel like I’m a better mom (and a giant sucker). The only problem for me with the smell and packaging and exotic origins combo is that it gives me the feeling that these products are so precious they’re use should be carefully rationed. This makes perfect sense for a girl who only uses her $55 tub of Kerastase straightening conditioner for really special occasions (which by the way, works really well if anyone from Loreal is reading this and wants to throw a little my way). The bath stuff went unnoticed by my kids, which is better than the alternative of being flat-out rejected. In the end, what I liked most about all three products is all superficial - their look, their smell, their freeness. Obviously, I’d be willing to do further testing on these products to see if I could form some actual opinions, but that’s going to take a whole new shipment… So I’m not sure if that bodes well for my future in product review or freebie collection, but at least I’m honest right?

One more thing, I hesitated in writing this blog for a number of reasons, most of which were guilt-driven (obviously Daddyfesto rubs off on one after awhile). But then I watched this on the Today Show Tuesday morning. And I figured I’d go for it, because according to the two panelists (I would call them experts, but once you watch the clip you’ll see that’s a little too generous for these two), the advertising world may be watching my blog, just waiting to unload free stuff on me, for the chance to have me - very influential blogger with a single identified follower - weigh in on the newest products! Well, for me, a Today Show sanction is akin to a papal decree when it comes to absolving my guilt. So if you need my input, I’m here, ready and willing to pimp my blog. Mailing address is available upon request.

Dora the Whora Encore-a

I couldn’t help it.

Anyway, a friend called me yesterday. She wanted to talk about Dora. Her daughter recently celebrated her third birthday with a Dora and Diego themed-party (I’m assured there was no live monkey involved). Her family is firmly committed to Dora. And simply-put my friend is pissed about Dora’s pending transformation. As she told me, if she "wanted her daughter to play with a whore she’d give her a Bratz doll." Don’t worry, I defended the Bratz dolls, pointing out that they obviously lived in a much tougher world than Dora and her cousin and couldn’t be expected to shoulder all the blame for their poor choices. Anyway, my friend pleaded with me to "do something, anything, to make Mattel see that they can’t change Dora." When I finished laughing about the fact that my friend might be under the mistaken impression that I am a paid (and therefore powerful) journalist instead of a writer that returns from the mailbox empty-handed everyday, I agreed to try to do something to help Dora maintain her innocence.

My friend hoped I would start a movement. So this is my attempt at social activism. For now, we’ll hope people read this post and comment. I’ll put in a poll on the sidebar for you to vote on Dora’s change. After we get an overwhelming response, I’ll e-mail Mattel and let them know how we feel. Oh and maybe I’ll do a few news releases just for the practice (it’s been a while). So what can you do? Comment, vote, and e-mail this post to anyone you think might want to weigh in.

Who knows - if this works maybe I’ll have a Save Dora House Party Obama-style!! We could have margarita's right?

Dora the Whora?!

Ok so that’s not really fair, but it rhymes.

It seems Dora, my favorite bilingual four year-old explorer, is getting a makeover. And it’s much more than a new pair of shorts (or a shirt that actually fits over her belly). It’s a whole new look. This fall, Dora’s going from preschooler to tween. Mattel hasn’t released all the details yet, but there’s a silhouette version of the new Dora that’s taking the media by storm. It seems Dora will be spending the summer growing out her sporty bob (is that a weave?) she’ll be trading her orange shorts for a tennis length skirt. It also looks as if this is the summer Dora’s finally going to shake that baby fat and emerge a little longer, a little leaner, even a little sexier! Oh yeah, and she’s leaving the jungle for the big city. No more map, no more trips to Abuela’s house, this fall tween Dora will be using her garmin to head to the mall, or maybe to Javier’s house because his mami and papi won’t be home after school…

The first I heard of Dora’s big change was this morning on a Babble blog that linked to this celebitchy post. Clearly the post says it way better than I can. Take a moment and read it. Get all fired up and then come back to my post.

Ok, there are a lot of moms who are really angry about Dora’s new look. And rightly so. I’m not quite sure why (ok that’s a lie, I totally know why, it confounds me that when given the chance to remake Dora, the only thing Mattel could think to do was go slutty rather than the obvious choice which was shrink that girl’s head). And I’m completely on-board with their reasoning, if I wanted my toddler to watch a tween idol for her Spanish lessons I’d let her watch Hannah Montana on Telemundo.

Even though I already can tell from that racy shadow Dora that I don’t approve of her new look, I do feel just a little hypocritical criticizing it. After all, didn’t I just support Barbie (who in many ways is the ultimate doll slut) in all her varied sexy incarnations just last week? Didn’t I just applaud as I watched other mommy-bloggers and feminists unleash their wit and unassailable logic all over anybody who dared to call Barbie a bad influence?

So what’s the difference? Why is it ok, even empowering, for girls to play with Barbie at the same time that its obviously detrimental to let our daughters play with the new Dora? I’m not sure, but as I’ve tried to talk myself through it I’ve come up with a few reasons that the two aren’t quite the same.

First, we weren’t introduced to Barbie until after she was a fully developed adult. I don’t know what Barbie’s age is supposed to be, but I’m sure it isn’t four (or anything under 16). We didn’t even catch a glimpse of preteen Barbie until way after we met Barbie and even Skipper was in middle school at the very least. So although Barbie’s outfits may have morphed from comparatively conservative to downright inappropriate and back again, she always been an adult taking adult fashion risks. There was never any implication that Barbie’s mami was helping her to get dressed every morning.

Second, Barbie has never been overtly marketed to the preschool set. Sure nobody at Mattel ever lost a night’s sleep over a preschooler pining for a Barbie, but the doll’s popularity was never dependent on the napping demographic. The fact that Dora appears on pull-ups and disposable bibs should be enough evidence of this difference.

Finally, the littlest of girls are attracted to Barbie because she reminds them of their babysitters or like at our house, of their mother. But those same girls identify with Dora because she is their peer, a small screen version of their current selves, not who they might like to be when they grow up. This is how Dora has always been presented to her fans, if she suddenly ages eight or ten years she will shift roles. I see this as dangerous for Dora for two reasons. First, Dora won’t be the only tween out there, she’ll have to compete with all the Bratz and even the High School Musical and Hanna Montana dolls. And frankly, those guys already have the market covered. But more important as Dora leaves behind the preschool set, she’ll leave a big void. The reason Dora’s makeover is so scandalous is because she’s so popular with both parents and kids. When she ditches her roots for something a little more risque, she’ll leave behind a world filled with adult freaks (the wiggles, the imagination movers, yo gabba gabba), puppets (most of children’s programming from 10 a.m. to 3 p.m.) and various animals. And an amazing opportunity for one little Chinese preschooler - Kai-Lan.

On the Octomom

It's true, I've been thinking about Nadya for some time now. I'm intrigued and confused by this whole eight babies, 14 kids thing. Maybe it's that I've never given birth to my own litter... but I haven't known quite how to explain my thoughts on the octomom thing, and then I read Raina Kelley's piece in Newsweek and that pretty much sums it up for me. Read it.

Now when I feel the need to say anything even a little bit mean about the octomom, I can indulge guilt-free because I've already acknowledged my inherent hypocrisy.

The Co-Sleepover

I have a friend who has a family sleepover almost every night. (Yes, it’s the same friend who doesn’t own a tv and yes, this friend also keeps chickens in our inner-ring suburb, but that’s neither here nor there). That’s four - two adults, two children - to her queen-sized bed. That may sound uncomfortable and almost crazy, but most parents I know end up sleeping at least three to a bed a couple of nights each week. The only real difference is, this friend saves herself from the disruption of bringing a little person into the bed in the middle of the night.

Co-sleeping - that’s the medical term for this kind of arrangement - has long been one of the most divisive issues among the great debates of parenting. Whether or not you’ll let baby into your bed is a decision akin to breast over bottle, nanny or not, and vaccinate or wait (strangely, oftentimes one’s leaning in one category is an excellent predictor of what side they’ll take on the other questions). The medical community continues to investigate the pros and cons of co-sleeping. I recently read a summary of just such a study (we know I don’t read the actual studies) on Slate.com.

Before I get to the study itself, let’s take a closer look at the issue. What’s the benefit of sleeping with baby? Well, as Sydney Speisel (pediatrician and summarizer) explains it "the people who favor bed sharing believe that it promotes successful breast feeding, strengthens mother-child bonding, and may even allow parents to detect and halt Sudden Infant Death Syndrome." On the downside (which is where most pediatricians come out on this issue), co-sleeping engenders significant risks such as strangulation and suffocation; baby can be trapped in pillows and blankets or tired parents may accidentally roll over baby. I’d like to add a few thoughts to the debate. While they may not have been explored scientifically, these points are so deeply rooted in anecdotal evidence and well, fact that they really should be seen as integral to any parents decision about co-sleeping. First, co-sleeping is perhaps the most potent and reliable form of birth control. Nobody is getting it on with junior in the bed. Baby-in-bed as insurance against any kind of late night action may not be a plus for most dads, but I can pretty much guarantee that it offers immeasurable bonuses for their wives. An even bigger plus for co-sleeping is the fact that it involves sleep. That’s right, co-sleeping allows many parents to get more rest than they would with baby tucked safely into his own crib (in his own room). And I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to argue that a well-rested parent is a much safer parent throughout the day than an exhausted one.

So when doctors looked at two decades worth of infant mortality patterns in the United States, they found that more and more babies were dying of accidental suffocation and strangulation in bed, and for a lot of those babies, death occurred in co-sleeping situations. Most of those babies died when sleeping mom or dad rolled over them. But, says Speisel, that’s pretty much all the study says, "it doesn’t really give us the answer about the safety or risk of co-sleeping - it just raises enough questions to make us very nervous" Or very tired.

So what should we do with this information? Speisel suggests that letting the baby sleep in an "outrigger" device might help (not a boat, one of those three sided bassinets that attaches to the bed). And warns that parents shouldn’t "even think of bed sharing if [they] have been taking any medication, including antihistamines, which might make [them] sleep more deeply, or if [they] have been drinking an alcoholic beverage.

That sounds reasonable, but it doesn’t tell us who wins, my friend who’s still sleeping with her kids, or me who strapped my firstborn into her infant carrier to sleep every night? Wait, that’s obvious right?

Except that my friend gets an uninterrupted seven hours of sleep on a regular basis and I am up every hour and a half shuffling between bedrooms trying to talk small people back into their own beds at least a couple of nights every week.

Herein lies the real problem with this study. It only accounts for the babies that didn’t survive co-sleeping. It tells us nothing about all the other infants, both the ones that snuggled with their parents every night and the ones that went to their own, lonely cribs. Except we don’t really need a study to tell us, that every single one of those kids winds up in mom and dad’s bed at some point… in the night.

Clean House, Good Reader?!

There are two women out to get me. My husband may or may not be a collaborator.

Under the guise of an academic article, these women (Anna Johnson and Anne Martin) have presented what appears to be actual scientific evidence to prove that I’m a bad mom. In the article - "Order in the House" - they claim that the cleaner your house is, the better reader your child will be. Well ladies, everyone knows that among mothers on the playground, a child’s reading ability is one of the top five indicators of good mothering (the others, in no particular order, are: clean fingernails, matching socks, total inability to participate in tv-tag, and a preference for whole wheat goldfish over regular or rainbow).

With the assertion that home environment is directly correlated to reading ability, these so-called researchers offer a painful send-up of my maternal abilities. You see - and you probably guessed this - as I write this, my house is a total dump. And my toddler still can’t read.

According to the research, reading ability isn’t influenced as much by how much time parents spend reading with their kids, rather it’s more related to how orderly their home is. The Evil-Annes (that’s what I like to call the authors) explain this relationship by positing that "household order taps a more fundamental characteristic of parents or households, such as maternal industriousness, planning ability or conscientiousness, that gives rise to both orderliness and better reading skills in children." That sentence is my primary evidence that my husband may be behind whatever grant funded this ridiculous study. I’m not quite sure what the measures of maternal industriousness, planning ability and conscientiousness are, but I’m fairly confident that all are sorely lacking in this house. Silly things like childrearing and self-preservation are bigger priorities than laundry and routines and an overall atmosphere of order.

This study comes out a bit too late to have a major impact on my home life or my childrearing two of my children can already read. I guess I have their super-orderly classrooms to thank for that. If it turns out that my husband did, as I suspect, spend our tax return money on funding the study, then I have this advice for him: next time hire a cleaning lady and order the Your-Baby-Can-Read system, it would work out better for all involved.

On Barbie

Barbie is everywhere this spring. And it’s not just because she’s super cute and perfectly accessorized (after all, so is Polly Pocket and most of the American Girl gang), it’s because she’s turning fifty! That’s right, the Barbie doll has been around for half a century. Which means that she has been at the very least an option for young girls (and boys) to play with for three generations. My mother had a Barbie - oh how sad and stiff she was! But her boyfriend, Ken, was even sadder, even stiffer. I had lots of Barbies. And while we have thus far avoided Barbie in our own home over the past nine years, her presence here is inevitable.

With her golden anniversary, Barbie offers fifty years of reflection on feminism, fashion and everything in between. And no, "everything" is not a stretch. In her time Barbie has covered relationships (Ken, Surfer Ken, and now Blaine), careers (cheerleader, executive, teacher, military personnel) home decor (dream house or beach house?), and even parenting (Barbie’s oldest friend Midge was at once pregnant and scandalous). Barbie has even been a political pioneer, bringing winking and feminine wile to the national stage long before Sarah Palin (my cowgirl Barbie was winking all the way back in the second grade) and running for President in both the 2000 and 2004 elections.

Barbie’s big birthday is ideal fodder for the stay-at-home mom-thinking-woman blogger. The Barbie-as-role-model debate has been all over parenting blogs and feminist blogs of late. It seems that Barbie provokes as much controversy as breastfeeding. This time, the daddies are weighing in just as often as mommies.

And yet, I find I don’t really have anything new to say about Barbie, no clever quips or feminist gripe with the little plastic lady. If I were more on top of things, I would have beaten Courtney Martin, author of "Barbie’s no threat to little girls," to the punch. In her essay for the Christian Science Monitor, Martin just about nails my view on Barbie. If I didn’t know better, I might even think Martin and I had played Barbies together in my bedroom. She describes the very antics, plot twists and relationships my own Barbie’s experience. Except I have a feeling that my Barbie’s were probably involved in a lot more "sexiness" than hers.

Most important, Martin recognizes that for all the debate surrounding Barbie and her influence on the American female psyche, she is after all, just a harmless plastic doll - "an empty vessel that we could fill up with all of our confusion and excitement concerning femaleness." Barbie, Martin implies, is simply a tool with which generations of girls have played out their fantasies, their visions of adulthood.

Even though Barbie is ridiculously thin and impossibly endowed (and incapable of walking on flat feet), she is not as detrimental as popular feminist rhetoric would have us believe. For most women I know, playing with Barbie did not result in an eating disorder or in an unshakable desire for a boob job and blonde hair. Most girls that spent afternoons driving Barbie and her friends around in her pink convertible (a LeBaron or a Corvette?), grew up to drive a sensible sedan - maybe an Accord - or more likely, a minivan. Nobody I know named their daughter Skipper (that’s B.’s little sister) or their son Ken. Most of us didn’t grow up and head to the mall and then to Malibu to toss around a beach ball. We did not quit taking math classes in high school because Barbie told us "Math was hard" (we already knew that anyway) and so we suffered through Calculus and either got out or moved onto Linear Algebra because we wanted to.

As a mother of two girls, I am terrified that my daughters will grow up to find that familiar self-loathing so many women I know endure. I am acutely aware that they may succumb to cultural notions of female perfection and tear themselves apart in pursuit of that body, that job, that family. I get that. But I don’t think that will happen to them if they play Barbies (or Polly Pockets or even Bratz). In fact, I know I have a far better chance of fucking them up all on my own, without the help of a doll.

When the party is over, and Barbie’s sparkly birthday gown is put away (we won’t know exactly what she’s wearing until March 9th), we’ll stop debating the impact Barbie has had on the lives of American girls. And hopefully we’ll come to recognize that for all her popularity, her common cultural clout, Barbie didn’t really matter all that much in the formation of our adult identities. Instead, we jumped through the hoops of childhood and adolescence and young adulthood and ended up here, as adult women who think of Barbie fondly, as a doll with kick-ass hair and shoes, rather than as an impossible role model. And we can do that, not because we somehow overcame the terrible cultural message of a doll, but because with the help of our mothers, our sisters, our girlfriends, we never needed to look to a doll for self-definition - we could however try a couple of outfits out on that doll first to see if they really did work…