Pop is MIA.

B. pointed out that many of our children's books have a subtle but pernicious bias toward the mother as dominant child rearer.  I perused P's bookshelves and found countless examples of books where the mother is the only parent mentioned (Dad is nowhere to be found and may have abandoned his family years ago, going out for a pack of smokes and never returning).  Some higher profile examples include Where The Wild Things Are, Llama Llama Red Pajama (I'm tempted to give this one a pass, since it's a great book and Mama is a no-brainer in the crucial rhyming scheme), Where Is Baby's Pumpkin?  ("Is [Baby's pumpkin] behind Mommy's bowls?"... as if a father has no use for bowls, come on), Quack Quack Come Back, Five Little Dinosaurs and many more.  Hop On Pop, a Dr Seuss classic, includes fathers but they tend to be put-upon sad sacks: Exhibit A: "Dad is sad.  Very very sad.  He had a bad day.  What a day Dad had."  Exhibit B: the Pop who is hopped upon.  Physical abuse is not very nice.

Two books stand out for their even-steven parenting treatment: 365 Penguins (B's favorite) and Richard Scarry's Best Word Book Ever.  The Scarry book must have been done back in the 70s because I remember it from my childhood, and it's a little dated.  My one quibble is that while both Mama and Daddy Rabbit are cooking in the kitchen, Daddy Rabbit is wearing a suit and clearly headed to the office after he finishes frying his eggs while Mama Rabbit is wearing an apron and undoubtedly will spend the rest of the day toiling on the home front and maybe reading Betty Friedan.  But overall, it's a good book and nicely balanced on the gender role stuff.

A related phenomenon is the fact that every single tv commercial for a cleaning product will feature a woman or more specifically a "mom."   

My most hated commercial character these days is the Glade (or "glah-DAY") woman.  She's constantly trying to pass off some bo-bo grocery store air freshener or candle as a "boutique fragrance."  After she's been repeatedly busted as a pretentious lying cheapskate, why do people hang out with her anymore?  How in the world does she have friends left who are still coming over for yoga?  Why hasn't her husband left her for someone who isn't a total phony poseur?  A mystery.  But I'm not alone in my loathing.

All this also reminds me of the old birth control pill commercials where they went to great lengths to prominently feature the wedding ring on the woman's hand... because single ladies were undoubtedly saving themselves for marriage and had no need for the Pill.  (More recent commercials seem to be less rigid on this point.)

And this post is the sum total of my extensive coursework and deep intellectual interest in Gender Studies back in college.  Sad.