Frog

The Princess and the Frog

The princess and the frog is a time honored story. So why, when Disney has the opportunity to crown their first black Disney princess, do they decide turn her into a frog almost immediately? Seriously, not cool.

That's right, after the princess kisses the frog - trusting that he will turn into a prince - and then she turns into a leggy, although green, female frog.  Disney turned the story of The Princess and the Frog completely on its head.  Traditionally, Disney has been pretty accurate - historically speaking.  But putting the princess in New Orleans and then promptly turning her into a frog is just wrong.  I guess she's a Creole princess?  Did Creole princesses ever exist? 

This feels like Disney was under pressure to have a black princess, so they shoved her into a story.  We couldn't have an original story about an African princess?  Does Disney have a drop of originality left or are they just going to resort to butchering already beloved tales? 

Points to ponder.

Certain

I was certain that I had put my keys on the coffee table when I came in. Yet as I stared blankly at the surface, no keys were materializing. These lapses in memory, in time, are happening more often now. I now often wonder how it will manifest itself as it worsens. What will I forget next?

It all started when I wished that I could just forget pieces of my life. At the time, it seemed like an innocuous wish. Yet the next morning, there I was, standing and staring at the coffee table with the look of determination crossed with confusion painted across my face. Everyone loses their keys, I tell myself. I KNOW that I put them here. It couldn't be that the one wish that comes true in my life is this one. In this Murphy's Law life that was thrust upon me one eventful New Year's Eve, I wouldn't be surprised at all if that were the case.

Amber

"Amber. I like that name for a girl." Gasp. My husband is thinking about baby names. I want kids so badly. It feels like I'm living a stunted life without them. But after years of having sex with zero protection, and having zero children as a result, I'm starting to think that my first opportunity was my only opportunity... and I gave it all away.

There are times when I don't regret giving her a new life. Like when I'm riding an ATV and jumping mounds at full speed along the beach in Mazatlan, acting 23 when I'm 33, or when I'm having a bad day and I can't pay attention to my dogs much less think of paying attention to a child. It's two ends of the spectrum, one that I envisioned when I made my decision and one that I never foresaw as the emotional consequence - six years down the road.

Then there are days like Halloween, where we are playing with our friends kids and all I can think about is how cool it would be to take her trick or treating or throw a Halloween party with a ton of kids. I think of how amazing it would be to see her grow up, to develop her own thoughts and opinions about the world and observe, first hand, what my influence had to do with it.

One thing is certain. For me, the birth of my next child will be life changing. How the birth of my first will affect that, only time will tell.

Dial

The dial tone echoed in my ear, reflecting the sinking feeling in my chest. He hung up on me. Again. As I reach down to cradle the phone, I realized that it was the last time he would ever do that to me again. My best friend always used to tell me that life is like a jar of marbles. When good things happen, a marble goes in. When bad things happen, a marble gets taken away. I chuckle to myself and think out loud, "I guess that's what people mean when they say they are losing their marbles."

Modern

The modern understanding of what a woman is and does is empowering to some. But to others it leaves them with a choice... be a mother or have the children suffer the unintended consquences of having a mother whose attention is split between the need for a paycheck and loyalty to her family.

It's this crossroads of life that has paralyzed me for years. So I sit at the stop sign and wait, looking both ways. I tried to cross once and was hit by a speeding 18-wheeler. Miraculously, I survived. Now, I look for direction from those who have chosen their path before.

Those without children often are teary-eyed and full of regret. Even though they will stand up and say it was for the best, in their hearts they know that no one will be there for them when they get old. I fear this more than death itself, the knowledge that I had my chance to build a legacy, to leave a lasting mark on this world long before I leave. Die-hard careerists will tell you that its the work that leaves an indellible impression. But as I entered my 30s I came to the realization that Barbara Bush was right. "No one will read your resume at your funeral."

Yet there are those who strive to have it all, but in the process end up creating nothing - or worse, children so independent that they find it difficult to rely on anyone but themselves. Those who have chosen to work and have kids, these days, schedule the kids tighter than they are in an effort to achieve balance and normalcy. In the 80s, we were called latch-key kids, because we let ourselves into the house while mom was still at work. Now, kids are scheduled to the hilt with a myraid of activities meant to fill their time and "teach" them. But the plain truth is this. All of the karate, soccer, birthday parties and playdates won't make up for one on one time with their mom.

So enters the woman who doesn't work, extremely loved and respected by her children, yet so disdained and disrespected by the business world that she often wonders what she's doing wrong. Women who chose the path of work and kids resent her. Women who don't have kids wish they were bold enough to make the choice. Inside, she has the resolve and reward that comes from raising a child, a feat not appreciated enough in today's society.

So, all of this advancement and pride in women shattering the glass ceiling, what is the cost? Are we acheiving it at the price of our children's childhood? Or is there some mythical balance where today's woman truly can have it all?