It’s 3:30 in the morning and I’m at the laundromat, having a threadbare but friendly conversation with Louis, the Spanish-speaking attendant and flying through my mountain of funky clothes. Some of them I know full well weren’t dirty in the first place; instead of stashing them in the drawers or closet where they belong, Teen Girl often finds it easier to sling them into the hamper and let me send them through a round of unnecessary washing. It irks me — detergent costs as much as a freakin’ date night — but I plod through without grumbling. This time, anyway.

I’m as far from being the finished, fine-tuned product I aspire to be as a woman, much less as a mama, but I like to think I’ve been getting progressively better since October 10, 1998 for a few reasons.

I came across a picture of a little girl in her mom's wedding dress on Pinterest recently. It shows the adorable toddler in an adult-sized dress with a caption that reads, "Photograph your little girl in your wedding dress to display at her wedding."

My first thought was, wow, what a great idea; I should get my mom to ship my dress from Nebraska and schedule a portrait sitting STAT. But that was followed quickly by a screeching What the hell are you thinking?! Because there I was once again -- like so many of us do regularly -- planning my daughter's life with some fairytale wedding at the center of it, when what I mean to be doing is raising a daughter who is strong, independent, and may or may not choose to get married someday.

But how easy it is to lose sight of that.

I never thought I would actually have a girl. With years of infertility both before and after my first child was born, I became resigned to the fact that my son would be an only child. Of course, then I became pregnant, which was only slightly more shocking than when the doctor told us the sex of the baby.

My first thought when he said those magical words, "It's a girl," were: Dance lessons! I grew up dancing and love the art for so many reasons. My dreams of tutus, ballet slippers, and recitals that I'd long since cast aside were suddenly on the horizon again.

And now, three years later, my daughter has started her first dance class. Each Tuesday when we enter the studio I get a little teary seeing her dance (or run if we're being honest) across the dance studio floor in her saggy little pink tights, black leotard, and impossibly messy bun. But it also gives me nightmares.

If you're a modern mom, you've most likely had the Barbie discussion with other moms, or just in your head. If not, it goes something like this: "Should I allow Barbie in my home, or do you think she'll give my daughter an eating disorder?" As a feminist to a princess-loving daughter, I've been especially on guard with the messages my gal is receiving at this young age. Yet as a mom who works hard to instill confidence and self-worth, I also ask myself if one doll is really going to bring all of that crashing down.

It's tough being the modern mom. Which is why when I was offered the Barbie Dolls of the World to check out, I balked for a second. Then I thought, hey, if Barbie is trying to represent all kinds of cultures, bring it. So Ireland Barbie, China Barbie, and Argentina Barbie came into my home and my 5-year-old daughter and I explored Barbie, and what it all means.

And that's when she made me realize how not a big deal this whole Barbie issue really is, after all.

Remember when you were little, and you played games for just fun? A 7-year-old girl kicked off her baseball team because competitive leagues don't allow girls has me longing for those halcyon days.

Anna Kimball's mom says she was told she couldn't play anymore because she's a girl, and as the team becomes "more competitive," they plan to move into a league that doesn't accept female players. But get this! Tami Kimball was also told her son Carson is nowhere as competitive a player as his sister. But because he's a boy, 6-year-old Carson is welcome to keep playing on the team:

We were huddled on cramped folding chairs in a frigid room, all of us craning to watch the solemn ceremony we'd been waiting for all morning: the Presenting of the New Belt, Which Is a Lot Like the Old Belt, Except OMFG This One Has a Green Stripe. The karate teacher—excuse me, Sensei—had just handed the much-anticipated new belt to my 6-year-old while I furiously snapped photos, and now he'd turned to the next belt recipient.

"Your daughter's next," my husband told the woman next to us, who was awkwardly balancing a camera and a small pigtailed toddler. "Do you want us to help so you can take pictures?"

There was a small flurry of activity, a bunch of thank yous, and somehow I ended up with the little girl on my own lap while her mom aimed the camera at her big sister.

Why Does She Scare Me So Much?If you have a daughter, you know all about this American Girl Doll. Or I should say, "dolls." Lots and lots of smooth-skinned dolls with fancy, expensive duds, just waiting to go home with your little lady as long as you shell over hundreds of dollars. It's a winning business model for the AGD folks, and I'm not one to begrudge anyone their success. Additionally, as a consumer of fun things for my kids, I'm not averse to buying them toys. I love toys. It's the cult-like following that I take issue with when little girls are sucked into the vortex of the cafes and showrooms.

Our home is American Girl Doll-free, by design. But something happened at the carpool drop-off lane that has me re-thinking my anti-stance. And it's probably the same thing that has happened to millions of mothers all over the U.S.A. who also swore they'd never drop a c-note on a toy.

Toddlers and Tiaras pageant mom Susanna Barrett is mad. She's just sick and tired of the way the media sexualizes little girls, and she's not going to take it anymore! In fact, she's launched a $30 million lawsuit against the Huffington Post, TMZ, and The Daily Mail for "brazenly" trying to sexualize her daughter, Isabella Barrett.

Yeah, take that, wicked, over-sexed media people! This sexualizing of innocent 5-year-old girls has got to stop! Just because little Isabella was caught on video singing along to the song "I'm Sexy and I Know It," with a microphone, with mommy sitting right next to her... wait, something is very wrong with this picture, and I don't think it has anything to do with TMZ, HuffPo, or Daily Mail.