My princess proving I'm not mom I expected to be

I've become everything I hate.

I watched my daughter hike up the hill to her first day of preschool this week hauling a huge pink Disney Princess backpack behind her. This monstrosity of Disney marketing features Belle, Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty adorned with glitter and a banner saying, "Perfect for a princess."

I loathe myself for buying this (and the matching lunch box).

Despite my best efforts, my daughter has fallen into the princess-worshipping trap. I admit that before now, I judged other mothers whose daughters had princesses on their hats, shoes and bags.

You know, the girls that are always decked out in a Cinderella gown and tiara at a Sizzler buffet.

"Why would anyone let their daughter dress like that?" I would say to my husband.

"Don't they know they are instilling an unhealthy self-image and unrealistic romantic expectations?"

But I'm afraid I'm a pair of plastic high heels and a feather boa away from becoming the very mother I used to judge so harshly. I tried everything I could to steer my daughter away from this fate, but there I was watching her lug her princess paraphernalia to school.

And it's not just the backpack. Oh no.

We are also now the proud owners of a princess scooter, a princess sweater and pink princess pajamas. I also may or may not have just ordered princess shoes for Christmas this year.

My daughter has also become obsessed with a pink, jewel-studded tiara and Mardi Gras beads that she insists on wearing to fancy venues such as McDonald's.

But I can't help it. I love seeing her little face light up when she sees those darn princesses.

I never thought I'd be the kind of mother who allowed her daughter to wear "Fancy Nancy" pajamas or read princess storybooks at bed each night. But what I've realized is that I had no idea what kind of mother I'd be because I had no idea what kind of child my daughter would be.

No matter who we think we are as parents, our children will quickly teach us differently. Despite my best efforts to wean her off her steady Disney diet, my daughter is who she is. I can't change that — I wouldn't want to.

Just because I hated pink and scoffed at all things princess doesn't mean she will. She came into our family with her unique personality. If that means she wears a tiara to the dentist, so be it.

And maybe that's OK. She still digs in the dirt for worms while wearing a tiara, and she can kick a soccer ball just as far in a pink tutu.

I thought I'd have to swallow my pride to see her out in public that way, but the bottom line is I'm proud to call her mine — princess backpack and all.

Erin Stewart's blog, Just4Mom, can be found Tuesdays and Thursdays at deseretnews.com. E-mail: estewart@desnews.com