Welcome to small talk city, a curated children’s consignment store and soon to be community clubhouse for families.
Each issue, I feature a children’s book, a creative essay, fun edits to inspire the art of life, and whatever tips and tricks for life that I can.
This newsletter is best read in the substack app. If you are reading this in your email you might not see the whole thing. Make sure to click “view entire message”
In today’s on-the-house newsletter you’ll find:
an essay about Motherhood inspired by The Paper Bag Princess
2 kids outfit edits inspired by The Paper Bag Princess
Paid subscribers will find:
more outfit edits for adults and children inspired by The Paper Bag Princess
details and links for creating Lil’ Forest Explorer Bags. Great for party favors or to prep your own babe for their camping adventure autonomy!
small talk city family camping gear recs with links!
Birthday party supplies for a stylish and EASY celebration in the redwoods
my honest review of Fernwood Resort in Big Sur and tips and tricks for camping with babes under 5 including 8 mistakes our family made so you don’t have to.
a secret family recipe for a (great) lunch to bring camping
and at the verrrrrry end are first dibs on brand new arrivals at small talk city not available on any other platform ;) including lots of rare and incredible occasion dresses for your own paper bag princess.
xoxo,
Auntie J
ps. If you write a substack and would like to do a subscription exchange just say the word. If you have a small business and want to exchange subscription for social media posts and shout outs, can do! Let’s support each others labor. Hit me up for trades!
THE PAPER BAG PRINCESS
by Robert Munsch
The princess is in trouble. She saves herself and her crush from an evil dragon using her fearless wit and cunning. Ultimately, she kills the dragon (who tries to eat her) and rejects the rude crush (who does nothing but criticize her) and walks off into the sunset armed with the security that she can take good care of herself.
Yay.
The resounding interpretation of this excellent subverted fairytale is that it’s a showcase of second-wave feminist ideals.
I love this read of the story. It’s fun and it’s buzzy. A princess who takes care of herself. Totally.
But IMO it’s a very surface read and maybe there’s an additional interpretation of this story that could be even more helpful.
But Auntie J, what lesson from this story could possibly be even more helpful to teach independence and confidence and a healthy relationship to oneself in children?
Let’s dive in.
…
A teacher once told me all characters in our dreams represent parts of ourselves.
Fairytales use the same format. Players are manifestations of the main characters psyche.
This mirrors reality; how we experience everyone in our life is also a projection of our own experience. We see a bad actor as bad because we believe in bad and good. We are conditioned.
…
Is the Dragon bad or is the Dragon hungry?
Is Prince Ronald cruel? Or is he suffering from PTSD and OCD?
Since we love Elizabeth, should we care about her abusers?
What if she is her own abuser? Should we care now?
…
It’s true that you can deeply harm yourself as a co-dependent by making excuses for / trying to heal everyone around you. This is not advisable.
It’s complicated to try and help people because, maybe, (for example) the Dragon likes the rage he feels when his blood sugar is low. Maybe he likes chasing a hard to catch meal that will ultimately not be very satisfying at all (no meat on those bones).
How can Elizabeth convince Dragon not to be a Dragon? She can’t. So she must kill him before he kills her.
What if Ronald is so used to his OCD he would rather die than find out what’s waiting on the other side of health? Should Elizabeth spend her life convincing OCD Prince to stop gripping the bat so tight? She can’t.
What if Elizabeth spends a lifetime and every ounce of her own goodwill and energy trying to convince OCD Prince he’s safe and loved only to find it never penetrates?
A co-dependent Elizabeth could turn Dragon on to the joys of Impossible Meat and wear a ball gown and sleeps in makeup for OCD Prince.
There’s plenty she can do to try and live with RAGE and OCD.
But —
We all know the Dragon would just start eating Elizabeth’s sheep and Ronald would cheat with the maid who folds the pillowcases right etc etc etc
Watching Elizabeth go through that would be terrible. Elizabeth would die. Spiritually, anyway.
We want Elizabeth to walk away. And we cheer her on when she does.
She wants to be happy and not waste her time with “sick,” less evolved, and by extension abusive people. Good.
…
But I don’t think the point of this fairytale is that.
No.
I don’t think that’s the most helpful read of this story because the best lesson in The Paper Bag Princess is actually that all we can ever control is ourselves.
I think the story is really about something much bigger than not standing for less than you deserve from the people around you
I think the
Point is —
It’s true that you can really hurt yourself as a co-dependant making excuses for your own behavior. This is not advisable.
Elizabeth The Princess is slaying and outwitting the Rage Dragon and OCD Prince within her.
Her own rage and self criticism. Her own laziness, cruelty, entitlement, dependency, materialism, and chaos.
She is brave enough to do this and as a result she discovers true, rooted, and lasting happiness with herself.
This is the way I see her story. She is overcoming her own demons. Not rejecting someone else’s.
…
The Dragon’s rage, chaos, and entitlement and Prince Ronalds materialistic cruelty live within her and us all.
She overcomes them. Can we ?
…
How can we overcome these aspects of ourselves that we find less than fine? Is it fear, harshness, pity? What unhelpful aspects of your psyche are you carrying around?
Too often we blame these parts of our psyche for failing us. So we try and feed them or satisfy them. Co-dependents every where can attest — they will not be satisfied!
Take a page from Elizabeth, kill them or even better just simply say goodbye.
“I don’t need you anymore or I never did,” aka
“You’re a bum. Goodbye.” and then turn toward the light inside you. The aspects that support grown and kindness. The things in yourself that make the world around you better. Think of the sun. Warmth.
Just like Princess Elizabeth who will be able to find true lasting happiness no matter where or with whom because she is right with herself.
She slayed her own dragons.
And you can too.
And so can I.
And maybe we can support our youth on this quest too by modeling acknowledging our own Dragons and Princes and openly working to tame them.
…
Here’s a cartoon of the story. What do you think?
MOTHERHOOD
by The Paper Bag Princess
It’s been a long time.
Funny that I should end a six month writing streak for LOL (that I was SO proud of) with an essay about being overweight (see I Like Me) and return to this space with a fresh bruise from shooting myself with a needle full of zepbound in my stomach fat.
Funny, the tin foil packets full of estrogen finally made their way into my mouth the same day. For some reason, starting an injectable tirzepatide was the push I needed to take control of my reproductive health too. Something I also didn’t want to do.
The tin foil of the birth control packet bothers me the most.
Did you know the liquid for tirzepatide is neon red? For whatever reason my prescription has me dose myself. So I calculate and flick out air bubbles and fancy myself an evil billionaire with the secret formula for mass mind control.
The subordination these days is palpable and I feel like a Dragon — rage.
But who am I mad at? My own health? My future? Big pharma? The delicious chocolate cake I ate every day for 10 months?
I spent an hour crying to my therapist that I am a purist and while I have zero judgement about others, these drugs go against everything I hold dear.
…
I feel like I got a facelift, a boob job, and moved into the playboy mansion.
…
Some woman have no access to birth control.
I should be so lucky.
…
Hey. I have something really important to talk to you about.
Children’s used clothing.
Is that important? Is writing this important? More important than something else I could be doing with my time?
…
Even as we speak I am choosing to write this instead of packing lunch and snack for my camper today (my husband will have to) or emptying the dishwasher (my husband will have to) or hanging up the pile of XXXXXXL clothing dismissed on my closet floor (no one will).
I’m writing instead of doing any of those chores. Does that make me selfish? A bad mother? Is the funny thing that I am writing about that question? Is this meta?
I couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t just the nausea. So I am taking time to talk to you. The dishes can wait, right? The snack takes 10 seconds. Right?
This is the conversation that must happen or I never write. As you may have noticed these past few months.
The space is not gifted it’s taken.
…
“Jilly, honey, I don’t think you should put time into making the backpacks.”
“You’re probably right but it’s my version of playing scrabble on my phone.”
“I understand.”
“Also, I need to.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
…
“what are your work hours?”
-my therapist
…
Brb. The guilt is distracting. Gonna make her lunch and snack.
…
Snack: Half a nectarine sliced. One homemade banana muffin with protein powder. Hand full of plain pretzels.
Lunch: Homemade cheese and broccoli egg muffin. Cassava crackers. Apple sauce pouch. Handful of blueberries.
…
When I wrap making the lunch and snack, I hear the littlest calling to me from her crib so I gathered her sweet smelling keppy onto the changing table and switch out her soaked dipe for a —
WE FORGOT TO ORDER DIAPERS!
Grabbing her sister’s overnight ones that are 2x too big and moving on.
We get downstairs and maybe I can keep writing now?
But the littlest Lewis is hungry. Sunrise snack ? Gram crackers broken into quarters.
I love handing her each one at a time. I wish I could nibble on one with her.
“Maaaaaaaaaammmmm”
The older one has to poop and her father is in the shower and has locked the door so she’s yelling and running. Downstairs, she chooses the little potty on the floor. I attach the seat to the grown up toilet and usher her on it. Too late!
Now, I must empty and clean her little one. I wash my hands.
Time to disinfect the little potty. I don’t want to. I just don’t. I don’t even know how to. Should I wipe it clean with a disinfectant wipe? Should I —
I trip off a hard baby and make a sound like an actress from the ‘20s. The kids laugh. Now, more yelling. I drop the dirty potty in the bathroom sink.
The toddler wants me to hand her a story. Without thinking I fling into the living room to grab her one. I hustle it back. Maybe now I can write? No. She wants a different book. As I go back and forth from the living room I see piles of toys out of place and laundry and unfolded blankets and and and. Why does all of this clutter make me feel so bad?
I hand off another book to the littlest and she toddles it to her big sister who is still on the adult potty.
Babe, I feel crazy. You know what the problem is here. Right? I’m trying to do too many things at once and it’s creating chaos.
And here he comes, glowing fresh from a shower.
“I love you. How can I help?” he rubs my back.
And the littlest Lewis climbs in his legs and they tap their matching feet on the floor and the oldest is making up a story and singing it from the toilet and I am charmed.
So charmed.
The littlest and her papa twirl into the kitchen for breakfast. Oatmeal.
Can I write? I can!
…
Wait. It’s too quiet. The older one has stopped singing. Oh no —
“Are you finished,” I call.
“YES!”
I spur into the bathroom like I have any chance in hell of catching her. Too late. The older one has taken it upon herself to wipe.
This is a good thing in theory but it’s a mess in reality and I’m RAGING inside. I realize the trauma I could inflict on her in this moment so I tap in my partner and he can tell from the Dragon bubbling on my brow that he’s up.
Somehow, he’s the hippie of fatherhood and gently takes care of the messy bacteria ridden bathroom and her body and her spirit.
“I see you wiping. You are really good at that,” he encourages.
I thank g-d hearing him parent well doesn’t make me feel bad about my natural inclinations. But it could. Sometimes it does.
Still, I thank g-d for him as I’m pulled toward the sound of the littlest one alone in her highchair and I stutter over the mess in the kitchen I’ve left behind from making lunch and snack. The peach peels. The container of muffins with the lid askew. A half opened pack of blueberries bits of plastic scattered. I can help with this.
Meanwhile, the older one has emerged from the bathroom into the kitchen naked and I swear this is what my house feels like right now at 7:46am
“I want oatmeal,” she entones as she pulls herself up in her toddler tower to wash her hands.
He figures, “I’ll go get you clothes and—”
“I will grab the clothes,” I inform and I’m half way upstairs leaving the unfinished plastic sweet sticky crumby mess of the kitchen in my dust.
From upstairs, I can hear him singing:
“Everything’s gotten a little crazy. Over here and over there somehow. It’s gotten mental. This straw hat. This garbage bag. It’s been here for weeks. Mama’s messy. She’s messy. We love her anyway but she sure is messy.”
While I grab lavender leggings and a lavender T-shirt and think of the relief at the warm weather making dressing less complicated. No socks. No sweater. Now, I’m smiling at my own genius. There’s no decision to make right now. I’ve protected myself from that.
I am amazing!
There’s no debate to have with the toddler, either. I don’t have to grab mismatched things and argue about hearts and unicorns. We wear this same uniform to camp. 99% of the time — 84% of the time — fine 63% of the time there’s no argument with the toddler because this is just what we wear.
I gloat down the stairs, my entitlement bouncing me all the way, till I find her climbing out of the toddler tower with clean hands —
I see her grip the railing that she used to hoist herself up when her hands were still dirty.
SHIT. OCD MONSTER IS BACK.
Time to wash your hands again!!!!!! I am alarmed.
I explain about the bacteria trying not to traumatize her with my generational bull shit as I disinfect the railing of the tower and FLOP myself onto the floor, her body in mine, to get a better angle to pull on her pants.
“Mama, I didn’t dry my hands.”
She’s right. I swirled to the next task so fast it didn’t occur to me that shake dry is even worse for bacteria. Now, I’m flinging up to grab a dish towel and flinging back down to put on her pants and from my weight and momentum we both sort of fall over and she laughs and sighs and says,
“That was fun, mama.”
And I thank g-d for having had children who make sure things are light. I’m not naturally built with that lens. It’s arguably a better lens.
…
I know what you’re thinking. Why fly out of bed at 6:30am to write. Why not just wait till the toddler is off to camp and the baby is down for her morning nap to write?
Because. It would never get written.
…
Why waste my time turning used Target jeans into backpacks ?
Because. The jeans would end up in a heap in a pile under a hunk of packs and assorted rejects and now
someone can find a treasure and bring it around.
Maybe you ?
Okay so I need work life balance. Parameters. But there’s just no time. Right now for example. I am going to get in the shower and then —
THE PAPER BAG PRINCESS
by The Paper Bag Princess x small talk city
French Toast Khaki Uniform School Dress Sleeveless Size 4T // Treehouse by Anja Schwerbrock Wrap Dress size 3 // Ralph Lauren Fit & Flare Dress size 7 // ROSALINA LIGHT KHAKI SMOCKED LIONS DRESS size 5
THE PAPER BAG PRINCE
by The Paper Bag Princess x small talk city
Carhartt Boys Bibs Canvas Double Knee Vintage size 5 // Youth Rambler Shoe // Cabana Mustard and White Stripe Shirt 2T // mini marley Stripe Shorts Set 2T // Ricardo Medina Baby Woven Leather Sandals Size 5 (Baby)
We got our copy of The Paper Bag Princess from our dear friend Lia. Subscribe for more!
RONALD
by The Paper Bag Princess x small talk city
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