WARNING: Rant Ahead. Proceed With Caution.

My kids (Mini, 10, Pickle, 8, and Yummy, 5) have been on an insane Calico Critters binge lately.  Do you know what these are?  Ridiculously adorable fuzzy woodland creatures who come with houses and accessories, and whose tiny perfection is exceeded only by their price tag.
We recently found out that Target sells a knock off version.  Maybe not quite as cute, but much more affordable for both my kids and myself, who seem to have roughly equivelant amounts of spending money these days.

(Side note: Mini is thoroughly obsessed with the Little House on the Prairie books these days, which goes nicely with her little calico critters obsession.  We spent last week making her tiny kangaroos a covered wagon, and a trundle bed which pulls out from beneath Ma and Pa's big bed.  From Popsicle sticks.  And hot glue.  As one of the least crafty moms in my zip code, I am thrilled to announce that both trundle bed and covered wagon were a huge success.)

So ANYWAY, yesterday the four of us went to peruse the toy aisle at Target.  This is truly exceptional behavior... I avoid Target with great determination since I agree with the Tao te Ching's warning that seeing nice things makes the heart feel confused about what it truly wants.  But my kids had money in hand, and let's face it, some new and interesting toys can make the summer move just a little more smoothly, so off we went.

WELL... In case all of you don't already know this... Girl toys are GROSSSSSS!  Most of the dolls they had made Barbie look like a fundamentalist Christian homeschooler.  (No offense intended to any fundamentalist Christian homeschoolers or Barbies who may be reading.) I was seriously disgusted.   Sexualization of children is something that we as a culture should be appalled by.  And sexualization of their clothes, toys, and entertainment are all part of that package.

Am I the only one who thinks Strawberry Shortcake was cuter before she got nipped and tucked and squeezed into a mini skirt?  And don't even get me started on Monster High dolls.  I think they must have been designed by a team of plastic surgeons who run a low-end brothel on the side.  I think I may have contracted an std just from walking down the aisle.
I guess these products are money makers or else Target wouldn't have aisles full of them, but I wish parents would be a little more careful about the messages they allow to enter their homes, and the companies they support.  Every dollar spent is an endorsement.  Put your dollars in the right place.  By which I obviously mean,  invest in some Popsicle sticks and a hot glue gun.

Eggs Benedict Arnold

                                    

Well, friends -

A lot has changed since my last post.  More on all that later...

I was recently informed by a tearful Mini that her dad told her just last weekend that I asked for a divorce for my birthday.  His newest version of events is that he got me an egg poacher as a gift.  But I didn't like it.  And so I (naturally) told him I'd rather have a divorce, please.  

I can't begin to tell you in words how exhausting it is to coparent with a person whose grip on reality is never very secure.

Anyway, obviously his explanation is ludicrous because I freakin' LOVE that egg poacher.   No, seriously.  I use it several times a week.  It is almost solely responsible for the fact that my middle child (the one called Pickle for public blogging purposes) is still alive and not severely malnourished due to a very serious ailment called 'picky eating.'  (Don't worry, Concerned Reader, we have a support group to help us all through it.)

And I am just now starting the process of deciding what can be said in a public forum without causing undue pain to both the innocent and the not so innocent.   It's important to remember that while there ARE two sides to every story, as people are so fond of saying, sometimes one of the sides is just a piping hot pile of crap.

Input on this topic (or any other, really) welcome and encouraged.