Well yes, it is now on my lips too; and my keyboard has been sullied.

I watched this ad, and as I watched I remained curiously detached about the whole ‘social experiment’. Now, I like to think (don’t we all?) I usually achieve a certain level of detachment as corporations attempt to sell me stuff, but this wasn’t conscious detachment, like when I’m thirsty and there’s a very chilly-looking glass of Coca Cola on the screen and I say to myself ‘NO Daisy, water is cheaper, better and ethically more sound’. It was unconscious: I didn’t feel like I was being sold to.

It was after a trip to the loo some time later that I realised what was going on. As I was washing my hands I glanced in the mirror, as is my custom. And before I could think about it I had thought idly to myself, ‘Looking good there Dais – loooking goood’. In that moment, I liked my eyes, my nose, my chin. My recently sculpted eyebrows in particular. Bam! There it was. It turns out I am one of the 4 percent of women who DO think they’re beautiful.

Dove pulls out every stop (cheesy music, soft lighting, an elegant New York loft interior, sympathetic, humble faces of the sisterhood) to sell us the revelation that We Are Not Actually Ugly! This message relies on the huge and unquestioned fact (it is actually a fact; Dove’s ‘research’ verifies it) that most of think we ARE.

Left: woman perceives herself to be hideous beast, as evidenced in forensic artist’s sketch to her description. Right: onlooker perceives woman to be conventionally beautiful, as evidenced using same method.

And by relying on that fact and using it to push a message that is explicitly aimed at every woman, isn’t this campaign normalising, if not approving that attitude?

As soon as I realised that I thought I was OK-looking, I had a stupid flash of dismay. Oh God, I thought desperately, I’m one of the 4 percent! I want to be one of the 96 percent; I want to feel solidarity with my sisters! What’s wrong with me?

Bam! There went my detachment. I wanted a glass of ice-cold Coke. I had just been sold Dove’s REAL message.

This is what I mean about the campaign’s effect being to normalise the ‘I’m so uuugly!’ message.

Here is the thing: Dove doesn’t actually want to convince you that you are beautiful. In fact it NEEDS you to feel Not Beautiful, so that it can sell its message of ‘hope’ to you. As soon as you feel Beautiful, you don’t need the message: you are not Dove’s target market; not someone who Dove wants to talk to.

The conversation:

YOU: I’m ugly.

DOVE (patronisingly): No, no! You are more beautiful than you think!

YOU: I am? Well … Thank you. That’s quite a self-esteem boost; all women should feel this way! If only there was a way to spread this warm fuzzy feeling you’ve given me …

DOVE: Well, now that you mention it … are you on Facebook?

YOU: Oh wow … you’re telling me I can be a part of this social revolution? YES! (pauses to Like and Share)

DOVE: Um, just to completely change the subject … do you need some new deodorant?

YOU: Actually, yes!

DOVE: (*ka-CHING!*) That’ll be $3.50, please!

YOU: Wow: this $3.50 feels less like a portion of my grocery bill and more like a charitable donation that’s ultimately going to contribute towards making the world a better place! Keep fighting the good fight, Dove!

DOVE: Aw shucks.

To maximise its target market, Dove needs you to believe the message ‘Normal women think they’re ugly’.

I think  we need to acknowledge that this campaign is therefore a lot more insidious even than some women are accusing it of being. Sure it focuses on physical appearance as the measure of success for women – but not in as compassionate a way as it wants us to believe. And let’s not forget (I’ve been surprised at the people who haven’t stopped to note this) that Dove is not a person, so it doesn’t owe us empathy or respect. It’s not a charity, so it doesn’t need to be a force for good in this screwed-up world. It is merely a brand, which is run by a corporation, which like all corporations has one purpose alone, and that purpose is not a philosophical ideal, it is to make money.

Come on, sisters!

Daisy

We thought that the new year would be a nice time to sit down and look back over all that’s happened since then. (What?! It’s still the holiday period, isn’t it? *rubs eyes, glances at recycling bin full of cheap champagne bottles sitting around from New Year’s Eve, checks calendar …*) So we’re relaxing here with a glass of fine New Zealand riesling (oh God yes) and getting all nostalgic …

Here are a few highlights from 2012 – well, technically from when we started, about 13 months ago (13 months! If we were a toddler, we would just have started tottering around on two feet not too long ago. We’d be saying a few words – perhaps ‘mummy’ and ‘poo’ and the like. We would NOT be sleeping through the night.)

Before we get started, we’d like to thank all the guest bloggers and other guestie types that have contributed and supported us over this time: including Lize, Guest Daddy, Chelsea from Aftermirth, The Beekeeper’s Wife, Claire, Jenny, Nicola, Sarah, Nanna Danise, Christine, Charlotte, Emma from Baby Wearing Wellington, City Wrigglers, Mums on Top, and Kiwi Mummy Blogs. And most importantly YOU! Lovely readers from New Zealand, Australia, the UK, the US, Hungary and all sorts of random places!

Enjoy,

Daisy & Zelda

**************************

November 2011 – Maja in the snow

November 2011

While Daisy was on the cusp of 1st birthday madness, Zelda decided to take a break from city life and move to the country to raise chickens. We both obsessed about cakes, again and again.

*************************

November 2011 – Zelda half way up Mt Taranaki

December 2011

While both D&Z were struggling with sleep deprivation, Daisy nailed Maja’s first birthday, and enjoyed the afterglow. Zelda conquered the summit of Mt Taranaki. Zelda revisited her pregnancy battle with PUPPPS. Guest Daddy joined D&Z for some extreme rants on Santa, death and ducks!

*************************

January 2012 – Daddy to the rescue to make the 1st birthday cake!

January 2012

Daisy returned to New Zealand to celebrate Zadie’s first birthday and reunite with family and friends. Zelda climbed another mountain. Our guesties talked honestly about miscarriage and practically about homemade almond milk, and wondered whether breast is really best …

*************************

February 2012 – Zadie, Luca & Maja hanging at Montessori

February 2012

We found a missing quilt, and through the blog the mystery was solved! Guest blogger Nicola talked us through the Montessori philosophy. And, oops, he did it AGAIN! Yes Guest Daddy got in our faces about ABORTION.

*************************

March 2012 – one step closer to living the Kiwi Dream!

March 2012

Zelda taught us how to survive a tummy bug. Zadie & Maja said their first words. Zelda bought a house! A (different) guest daddy blogger told us how to create an awesome teenager, and another guestie got us thinking about NZ mums in the 1970s. Emma introduced us to the art of baby wearing: keeping your kiddos close enough to kiss.

*************************

April 2012 – Daisy and the girls picnic with seagulls

April 2012

Wordless Wednesday became Waipatiki Wednesday. Daisy and Maja stayed in Zelda’s new house and the girls took dust baths for all the world like little chooks. Zelda started to miss Daisy already. Guest blogger single mum Charlotte taught us how to be awesome all by yourself. Lize ranted about girls and pink, and another special guestie talked about living with postnatal depression.

*************************

May – Whining about weight is the ultimate shiny object that women continue to focus their attention on

May 2012

We talked about body issues,  and shared some wisdom from Tina Fey. The controversy about Jamie Lynne Grumet feeding her kid on the cover of Time blew up, and we were there. We introduced Charlotte’s book, Peaceful Baby Sleep. Emma talked about ‘extended’ breastfeeding, and edgy eco mama the Bee Keeper’s wife too on Daisy’s family cloth challenge!

*************************

June – Maja & Daisy tame those curls!

June 2012

Daisy featured on offbeatfamilies.com with her advice on looking after your baby’s curls. Lize decided you can only say ‘WTF?’ so many times a day.  Stuff getting the babies to sleep! Daisy told stuff.co.nz how to get your mummy to sleep through the night.

*************************

July 2012

July 2012

Do your single childless friends find it hard to understand where you disappeared to immediately after squeezin’ that melon through your lady bits? Tell them where to find you: obsessing over squeaky-clean celebs on Sesame Street, or making jam, or fighting with your toddler just to get them dressed.

This month we featured Island Mum’s review of The Elephant and The Bad Baby, in an introduction to the criminal law -  and Jenny from mend and make new talked craft for us.

*************************

August – via Mend and Make New

August 2012

Maja did wees in the potty! Daisy started night weaning … kinda. Daisy got homesick, but Elmo cheered her up. We reblogged a brilliant open letter to all parents from a non-parent, and Jenny gave us tips on how to make an embellished blanket.

*************************

September 2012 – Peepo – which might actually be the best book for toddlers, ever

September 2012

Daisy finally got to the other side of night weaning. Which gave her the strength to reimagine Peepo for the modern age.

*************************

October 2012 – Maja looks a bit like Suri Cruise here.

October 2012

Winter hit Hungary, and it was time to make a snowman. The night-weaning chronicles continued, and Daisy went to the Frankfurt Book Fair.  Hello Little Mister shared her views on the dynamic between ‘work’ and mothering, and we featured ‘The Female Confessional’, from Green Goddess Wendyl Nissen.

*************************

November 2012 – Advent with D & Z

November 2012

Christmas fever hit us badly! We experimented with Christmas mince, and got heavily into some Christmas DIY. We thought a bit about Christmas gifts for little girls.  Hello Little Mister popped in again, and Lize weighed in on the issue of toys for girls. Another guestie got us thinking about the idea of tandem feeding.

*************************

December 2012 – Mama Verdure is born

December 2012

We partied at Maja’s house as she turned 2, and Zelda unleashed her eco-friendly alter-ego Mama Verdure to the world. We talked to Wellington mum and businesswoman Sarah Jane Barnett about Toy Mama.  Daisy showed off a bit more Christmas DIY, and a final guest blogger for the year talked about birth as performance art in the context of her own birth story.

Phew, what a year! Doing this review has made us realise what a hell of a lot we have achieved … gratifying when, all along the way, each post seemed such a humble little thing, offered up to the blind gods of cyber space. We love the whole, and we’re proud of it: wiser, and funnier, and more whimsical and more lovely than the sum of its parts. We are so excited about this coming year.

Are you with us???

Envisaging, creating and regularly updating an honest and intelligent parenting blog? A piece of cake!

]]> http://daisyandzelda.com/2013/01/14/2011-2012-an-epic-journey/feed/ 0 daisyandzelda SAMSUNG 338 img_3146 Zadie, Luca & Maja hanging at montessori 074 seagulls May - Whining about weight is the ultimate shiny object that women continue to focus their attention on July - Maja & Daisy tame those curls! July 2012 August - Check out Jennys blog http://www.mendandmakenew.blogspot.hu/ September 2012 - I actually really love Peepo – might actually be the best book for toddlers, ever October 2012 - Maja looks a bit like Suri Cruise here. November 2012 - Advent with D & Z December 2012 - Mama Verdure is born birthdayc http://daisyandzelda.com/2012/12/28/guest-post-birth-as-performance-art/ http://daisyandzelda.com/2012/12/28/guest-post-birth-as-performance-art/#comments Fri, 28 Dec 2012 11:35:55 +0000 daisyandzelda http://daisyandzelda.com/?p=4669 ]]> Funnily enough (for a mummy blog that loves to feature other mummies’ voices) I don’t think we’ve ever published a birth story!

I have special permission to republish this one, originally published on the website of Project Freerange, which actually focuses on ‘the city, design, politics and pirates’ rather than mummying. Its point of view really appealed to me. Thanks Hana!

Daisy

***

I would be lying if I said I was able to think of much else at the moment other than my first two months of motherhood. I am constantly surprised at news that everybody knows unless they’re living under a rock – The Hobbit film is done? And out? Nelson Mandela is still alive? And I would be lying if I didn’t say I was thinking about writing this blog post while feeding my baby, and because there’s only so much writing I can do with one hand, that I decided to use it to do a quick Google search on “Birth as Performance Art.”

The first dozen or so links were for articles about the Brooklyn based artist Marni Kotak, who gave birth to her son at a New York City art gallery. Mostly they focused on how radical her choice of location and context was. Apparently she is now turning the raising of her son into a work of art.

Marni Kotak. Image via KUCO/Shutterstock

Whatever. I’d be interested to hear more about the actual experience. As far as I’m concerned, the interesting thing about giving birth is that it sure as hell feels like performance art, whether intended or not, and it sure as hell doesn’t require an audience to feel so. It’s like cathartic theatre that serves the performer (or performers, there are some acrobatics, subtle interpretations of time, and stylistic quips required of the baby for sure).

I was determined to do very little visualization of what I expected giving birth to be like. This was my way of being open to whatever might happen. For someone who is a bit of a control freak, pregnancy marked the zen-est experience of my life. I like to think that a long episode of uncontrollable vomiting in the first few months had something to do with putting me in my place. After that I just surrendered to whatever my body and the body growing in my body was up to.

When I started to feel my first contractions, I did exactly what my lazy pregnant self would do. Took the couch out onto the back deck and lounged in the sun, had a bath, tried to sleep sitting up, until at about 1am this seemed impossible so I got out of bed and said to myself with the hesitance of someone getting up early to get to work and who would really quite like to sleep in, “alright, let’s do dis.”

On went the short red robe with a dragon embroidered on the back that was my grandfather’s. Out went the wake up call to various sleeping family members and friends throughout the house. And onwards went the experimenting with various positions and sounds while everyone else moved around at a steady and silent pace.

Once I made it out of the bedroom, our living room had been converted into nothing less than a faux Greco roman theatre set. White sheets covering all the furniture. Candles in lanterns. A fire. Oh and a blow up swimming pool and Dolly Parton soundtrack. The stage was set and I subconsciously felt a bit like some kind of combination of Norma Desmond from Sunset Boulevard and Grace Jones and Nina Simone. And also a gladiator. Fear-inducing and oozing with almighty power that is way beyond socially comfortable.

Dolly Parton.

I thought that I might feel self-conscious about being butt naked and totally primal in front of a small and tending audience. But once the show started, I was just a heaving roaring woman with huge breasts and belly in a short red robe with a dragon embroidered on the back and there was no two ways about it.

I embellished in making sound. High, low, loud, loud. I don’t think I made one single breath that wasn’t audible. My legs were exhausted so I tried various ways to support my body. The couch. The dresser. The door. My husband. The bed. I kept moving. Forwards and backwards, side to side, up and down. They don’t call it labour for nothing.

When things really reached the next level, I would start the sounds and then they would just take off on their own. This was the part where I’m pretty sure I blew the microphones on the home video camera. There was no screaming. There was no crying. No swearing. But there were demented gurgling roars.

It was slowly slowly fading from dark to light. I hadn’t made eye contact with another human being for a good 6 hours. I spent the last few with my eyes looking only in the direction of the sea out the window, where the sun was slowly rising and a ferry slowly crossing between the north and south islands. But I only actually SAW the view in my deep subconscious.

At some point I thought I heard my friend say “I’m going to read you a poem now.” She read aloud something about a bat. I was happy for the added touch of avant garde. I only found out later that she had actually drawn a card from a pack of Medicine Cards she had brought. The bat symbolised birth and rebirth. Bats hang upside down like babies getting ready to launch themselves out of the womb. It couldn’t have been better if it was planned.

The ‘bat’ medicine card

With one of my final pushes I yelled out “come ooooon baby!” which brought some comic relief to the whole scene. And once she did come shooting on out and on to my chest, the audience that had gathered in a circle around the pool all burst into spontaneous tears of joy. I looked all around at them in a bewildered state that I could never ever pull off convincingly as an actor. Laughing, crying, in total shock as if I’d only just fully realised what I had actually been doing.

My midwife wrote in her records of the birth that immediately afterwards I announced “well, that was easier than I thought!” Clearly I was blathering and drunk on hormones.  I was just so relieved. I had improvised my way through birth, let my body lead the way and rode that magical uninterrupted wave of synchronicity right on through to the beginning of the rest of my life.

Hana

So, underneath what will probably be the last segment in this year’s inaugural D&Z advent calendar, what do we find???

A Christmas treat, today, for Wellington mothers, from which they will benefit all throughout the new year and beyond!

Image from the Peoples Coffee Blog

You know how you head out, kid in tow, to meet your before-child BFF (who is still childless, and from whom you’ve drifted apart a little, but you’re valiantly trying to maintain the connection) for a latte, and you sit down to start catching up and so you send your kid over to the cafe’s toy basket, only to discover that (a) there is no toy basket, or (b) there is a toy basket, but all it contains is one torn copy of one of those terrible ‘children’s’ magazines and one manky Barbie with one leg and chopped-off hair, or (c) there is an overflowing toy basket and the kiddo is rearing to get into it, but most of the stuff is coated in a filmy layer of unidentifiable dirt, ancient cappuccino foam and bogeys?? And you end up having to try to entertain the increasingly stroppy kid yourself while simultaneously reminiscing with your friend about the days when you used to dance on the tabletops in the Grumpy Mole until the early hours of a Sunday morning?

No longer!!

Toy Mama is a brand new business that is the brainchild of Wellington mother of one Sarah Jane Barnett, who says that Toy Mama is a service for cafes, but also for parents. From Toy Mama’s website:

Imagine a wicker basket with fifteen hand-picked toys. The kids who come to the café get excited by such fun toys. The parents get excited because the toys are safe and clean. They know this because there is a certificate on the wall. They can relax. They order a second coffee.

Now imagine someone else being responsible for those toys. They clean and safety check the toys. They replace broken and lost toys. They care about the quality of the toys. They also promote the cafe to Wellington parent groups. Wow – what a great person! That is Toy Mama.

Brilliant concept, no? Watch out for the Toy Mama baskets in Wellington cafes, and check out the website for more information.

I’m a little in awe of Sarah Jane for coming up with this awesome idea and succeeding in making it happen. And excited for Wellington mothers that the Welly cafe scene seems about to become navigable again, for our kind. So pleased to be able to support Sarah Jane in her endeavours, and to bring this news to you.

Daisy

Advent day 1: Rum pa-pa pum!

Advent day 2: Tiny clothes

Advent day 3: Christmas mince pies

Advent day 4: Silent night, holy night

Advent day 5: I’ve got a golden ticket!

Advent day 6: Christmas presents for little girls

Advent day 7: five star Christmas decorations

Advent day 8: meta advent calendar

Advent day 9: Home Alone

A taste of what’s to come … This is Maja on her second birthday

In the meantime, I’m the freshest thing over on Mums on Top just now, talking about random shiz … check me out!

This is what you get when you tell an almost-two-year-old who missed her afternoon snooze to say ‘CHEEESE!’

Daisy

Lottie.

Lottie lacks Barbie’s bazoongas and her wasp waist, sure. But apart from that, what’s changed? She’s still stick thin. Her Aryan colouring and facial features have still been distorted to infantilise and feminise her as much as the next piece of pink plastic on the shelf. (Yep, her wardrobe is still very pink.) How exactly is this doll presenting a new, more self-affirming concept of beauty to our children?

I started to doubt myself as I looked at images of Lottie – ok, I thought, she’s thin. But I have a nine-year-old niece, and she’s pretty skinny too. She eats and eats and eats and runs and jumps and kicks like a nine-year-old should; her lankiness seems pretty healthy.

But then I put my super-duper Microsoft Paint skills to use and did a bit of scribbling to find out exactly HOW efficiently my subconscious was equating healthy nine-year-old thin with mass consumer product little-plastic-doll thin, and this is what I came up with:

(‘Math class is tough’ was an actual phrase spoken by Teen Talk Barbie, released by Mattel in 1992.)

We should all be aware – very aware – of how often media-thin does NOT equal real-life thin. It invariably takes thin way, way too far, to an extent that we’re now so used to we don’t even realise it’s happening.

Again I ask, is this the best we can do? In the twenty-first century, is this the closest doll-makers can get to ‘real’ body shape? Those twiggy little arms and legs might be able to support Lottie as she totters up and down a stage doing her ‘talent’ bit for a beauty pageant, or even kneels on the floor to play with her own collection of pink plastic bits and pieces. But could she actually lift anything heavier than a My Little Pony? Could she hold her own in a game of soccer? Could she hold her own in a wrestling match with her brothers (who are being marketed THIS as the physique to aspire to)?

The toy designers’ interpretation of ‘realistic human physique’ seems a bit different here.
‘Resistance and World of Warcraft’ toys, via MTV Geek

Could she smash through any glass ceilings?

Ah humanity, I despair.

Daisy

The take-home messages are often exactly what you need.

When paired with Quentin Blake’s illustrations: transcendentally good.

For example, this page. Ah, this page.

(Apologies for the terrible image quality. My camera threw a tantrum worthy of a toddler today, and the phone I ended up capturing this with is scratched to buggery. Um, Father Christmas???)

Read this message. Digest it. Live it.

Can’t wait til Maja’s big enough to really appreciate this wonderfulness.

xx Daisy

One of the first things we did on the rellies’ arrival was to sit down with cups of spicy sweet mulled wine, fire roaring in the background, and watch Home Alone. The soundtrack, the snow, all the red and green, the triumph of good over evil (of course) and the era (this was one of the iconic movies of my childhood) make this one of those classic delicious Christmas movies.

Keeeeevin!!!

The only downside was that Maja was seriously upset by one of the (many, many) episodes in which Wet Bandit Marv, outwitted by Kevin, arses over.  She was quite distressed by it and needed calming down, and then in the middle of the night she woke up from what could only have been a bad dream – and Mr A. swore the poor thing had been reliving it again in dreams. I guess the lesson is that the label ‘Family movie’ doesn’t necessarily apply to almost-two-year-olds! Oops. Ah well, I guess we’ll be snuggling down for Home Alone 2 (which we’re already looking forward to) after her bedtime.

Poor Marv! Poor Maja.

Daisy

Advent day 1: Rum pa-pa pum!

Advent day 2: Tiny clothes

Advent day 3: Christmas mince pies

Advent day 4: Silent night, holy night

Advent day 5: I’ve got a golden ticket!

Advent day 6: Christmas presents for little girls

Advent day 7: five star Christmas decorations

Advent day 8: meta advent calendar

Once there was a little village here, and about a hundred people lived in it. Now there is nothing but three ruined buildings and many lumpy little grass-covered hills, which once were houses and have now crumbled.

Those dark shapes up in the trees are mistletoe plants, which live as parasites upon the larger trees. Mr A used to bring one home from the forests for his mother around Christmas time. (I have put in a request.)

Inside the buildings, all was ruin.

It made me unbearably sad to bear witness to all the small remaining details of this house.

How much money and time, but more significantly, how much loving consideration have we lavished on our own house, still under construction? How long until it too is filled with prickly brambles and open to the skies, like this one? In universe terms, mere moments.

Meanwhile, it was getting late, by current standards. After 3 o’clock, twilight fell quickly, and gathering clouds meant that night only seemed more imminent. We all but ran back towards home, across tawny unkempt fields. Darkness peering over our shoulders, the crows cawing at our backs and those long-gone families of Lickópuszta on our minds.

Daisy

I wish I’d found this potentially kid-friendly 3D DIY advent calendar idea earlier – it’s something I might actually have got my hands busy/sticky with, since our household gets through a lot of matches. We have a gas stove and also a fireplace that heats our whole house, and is currently getting a lot of use (the snow is comiiiing! They’re forecasting a white Christmas!). But I’ve been throwing them away, rather than collecting them for craft purposes. Yes, yes, I hear you; I know that you can buy such things in craft stores. And yes, even here, in the Eastern Bloc. But buying something like that – something nature intended to be collected and hoarded, not bought – doesn’t sit easily with me. Especially since I’m no born crafter, and whenever I embark on a project like this there’s a very good chance I’ll screw it up.

But imagine the fun of pulling out these little drawers one at a time to uncover a chocolatey (if tiny) treat!

Image courtesy of the Messy Crafter

There are heaps of versions of tutorials on how to make this all around the internets. See, for example, this one at Bubbly Funk.

The Paper Mama has just posted a lovely free-form DIY Advent Calendar how-to, too – might be fun to customise?

Let the (real) countdown begin!

Daisy

Advent day 1: Rum pa-pa pum!

Advent day 2: Tiny clothes

Advent day 3: Christmas mince pies

Advent day 4: Silent night, holy night

Advent day 5: I’ve got a golden ticket!

Advent day 6: Christmas presents for little girls

Advent day 7: five star Christmas decorations