I'm Alive!

It's been a fast summer. So fast, I never did find time to tell you about it here.

But I'm back now, looking forward to the fall and many changes in our neck of the woods. More to come on that. In the meantime, feel free to start visiting me again more regularly and I'll promise to keep the cobwebs clear here.

Deal?

And while we're agreeing, I hope you'll agree to come check out my latest post at ModernMom.com where I revisit my undergrad (ahem, honors-level, ahem) two-year independent study on the effects of advertising to kids in perpetuating gender stereotypes. It's a topic that has stuck with me, and now as a marketer and a mother of two little boys, it pops into my brain time and again. I'm talking about a recent observation of that research in my real life and would love to know what you think.

The Competitive (read: Crazy) Side of Christmas Consumerism

I recently reached my stop and hopped off the Crazy Train. (Not going to claim I didn’t hop on another.)

I’m not really sure where I boarded that Crazy Train. But I was on it for about a month. Okay, and a half.

I suppose it all started in a haze of post-Thanksgiving Christmas gift shopping. Come on, you know how that time of year mixed with that level of maternal consumer responsibility can make one irrational. But of course I was on top of it. I had done the Black Friday thing and besides that already had a great head start. (I’m looking at you, Target, and your sneaky pre-Thanksgiving toy coupon books.) Unfortunately for my sanity, my loving husband had set the bar on “the big gift.” Graham was getting a drum set. It had been researched, compared, decided. Hubs had it in the garage in boxes already. He was going to freak on Christmas morning and we both knew it.

But Reid? What was going to make Reid freak? Yes, these are the kind of big questions that were haunting my thoughts. People, I’m telling you about my Crazy Train experience, after all. I NEEDED REID TO BE EQUALLY FREAKING OUT ON CHRISTMAS MORNING, DAMMIT! I’m talking about my little sweetheart. My Reidy. My Doogie. My blondie who loves to follow directions and hear stories of what a sweet little baby he was. He melts me. Regularly. Naturally he must be rewarded for that by Santa.

Reid is my techie. Hand him an iPad, iPod, iWhateverelse and he’s on it. He tells the rest of us how to use our devices. He instructs his big brother. He NEEDED toy technology. He NEEDED the LEAP PAD! THE TOY OF THE YEAR! AN IPAD FOR KIDS! SOLD OUT EVERYWHERE! BLOGGED ABOUT BY MOMS IN THE KNOW! UNAVAILALBE ON ANY SHELF! SO YES, NATURALLY THAT WAS THE THING I MUST HAVE FOR MY CHILD!
This is the stuff marketers’ dreams are made of. I was trapped.

The next part is embarrassing to type. But I must confess it here as part of the healing process. I spent every morning for about a week this past December outside the locked doors of my neighborhood Target. Yes, you did read that right. It went down each morning as I pulled into the lot and surveyed my competition.

The first morning, Alpha Mom was already waiting. She informed me that she had been coming to the Target every morning for two weeks. Once, she had been thisclose to snatching the Leap Pad, but a woman "in high heels" beat her to the shelf and grabbed all three. While marveling about how I was bonding in the cold with this random stranger over our shared need to secure a Leap Pad, I was a bit taken aback about the high heels comment. I may have fidgeted and wondered how well my dress slacks were hiding my shoes. She said she works nights and that the weekend before, she hired a sitter for her kids and drove all over the metro, racking up hundreds of miles on her car, trying to find the elusive Leap Pad. I thought about the amount of money she must have spent on a sitter and gas. And compared that against the retail value of the Leap Pad. And I thought about the Leap Pads going for two times their values on eBay and Amazon.

My friends, family, colleagues and even clients knew what I was doing. They offered to help, and asked for regular updates on my progress. This only fueled my fire.

Each day there would be another competitor mom or two. I sized them up. Wondered if I could out-run them. Or if they could beat me up. One day there was a dad. But each morning as the Target employee who opened those red doors and most likely mentally judged us with his sideways looks, and we dashed straight down that gleaming linoleum and then to the right, nothing was there. Each day, the stockers would say, “Oh I think we’re getting four on the truck tomorrow! Come back Thursday and we’ll have more! We’re getting in about two each night!” Yadda yadda and whatevs. Why was I trusting strangers in red shirts who obviously had no information? Because I was crazy.

Finally, one morning it happened. The regular, plus a new blonde in scrubs, and I dashed back to the aisle. They, in their tennis shoes, beat me to the punch. There were supposed to be four, according to the red t-shirts from the day before. But there were two. My mompetition looked at me, Leap Pads in hand, shrugged and said, “Sorry! Welp, Merry Christmas!” The blonde offered to give me her “strategy sheet” if I walked to her car with her. I wished her a Merry Christmas, said, "Hope your kids enjoy that,” and took my high heels and my dignity to the office.

I tried to tell myself that Reid DIDN’T EVEN KNOW WHAT A LEAP PAD WAS! That he couldn’t care less if one showed up under the tree or not on Christmas morning. That by the time his birthday rolled around in June, it would be easy to find all the Leap Pads I wanted at the normal price. I managed to find some sense and hubby bought him a kid’s digital camera and some other goodies we knew he would enjoy.

He had a great Christmas. Without the Leap Pad.

Last week, running typical weekend errands at Target I sauntered to the aisle where it all began. There were two Leap Pads on the shelf. No one was running towards them, no one was fighting over them or pulling mace out of their purses. I tossed one into my cart like no big deal, along with my shampoo and some glue dots. And as I exited the store that day I hopped right off of that crazy train.

The Leap Pad now has a temporary home hiding out in the basement. When June rolls around, a certain little boy may or may not freak out at his techy birthday present. And his mom will enjoy the return of her sanity.

Dads in Ads are Pitching to Moms

Dad gone ad! Sorry, couldn't resist.

Check out my latest post at ModernMom.com where I give props to my loving husband who thankfully signed up for teamwork when he took me on as his wife.

And tell me, can you tell when a TV ad is obviously intended to target moms? Do you find yourself seeing more dad actors in ads? And have you ever considered that perhaps those dads are aiming their scripted messages at the moms on the other side of the screen?

P.S. Well-played, Google Chrome and your very "Dear" Sophie. Very "Dear" indeed.

The Nag Factor

My latest post is up at ModernMom.com, wherein Reid shows me he is a statistic and Fred Flintstone shows me he still knows how to hock sugary cereal after four decades! FOUR DECADES! Curious? Come on over there and read more!

And hey, I suppose you have to hand it to the marketers/packagers/merchandisers who launched Fred's face on Fruity Pebbles boxes that many years ago that they knew what they were doing... and to the marketers who still work on the Fruity Pebbles brand who apparently know that if something ain't broke, there is no need to fix it! Still? As long as Hubby Hawks isn't in the cereal aisle with us, Fred will stay very nicely nestled into his spot on the shelf, no matter what 'gimme goblin' temporarily takes over my 4-year-old's brain.

So, come tell me at ModernMom.com what you think about The Nag Factor, and how it does or doesn't impact your purchases. Won't you?

Are you better than Target?

I am not crafty. I aspire to be more into mommy/son art projects, but I have two hurdles: 1) kids who aren't much into coloring (which of course triggers the 'red flag' area of my paranoid psyche) and 2) this ongoing battle with Father Time who keeps telling me he won't add even one minute to my day. 24 hours?! Pffsh. Please. (P.S. Next election, I'm voting for Mother Time, who would clearly understand my needs.)

But I digress. Today, this article floated across my desk. You may (or may not) be surprised to know this kind of controversy is not an anomoly in our industry. Moms are always getting pissed about ads (hey, me included!). But the criteria for the crankiness is all over the map. More than once the trigger point has been about a mom's attempt to make something for her child, which (according to the ad) completely displeased the child, and made mom look like a fool. Or at least out of touch with her child.

Shall I remind you that ads exist to make you want to buy something to make yourself better/happier/prettier/smarter/ -er/ -er/...?

Today's "crassly offensive" case in point: Target.



If I had a little more time and creativity enabling my own handiwork, I might be miffed by this. After all, I don't want a major corporation telling me my loving, hand-made efforts for my child are useless.

At the same time, I think this spot could have saved itself from controversy with a very simple acting shift. If the mom had a different air about her - maybe if she didn't look so proud of her apparently inadequate creation but rather gave her son a look that said, "Dude, what is happening here? Grab my purse, we're headed to Target to remedy this," then the brand would put itself on mom's side rather than taking the superior-to-mom path of putting us all down and implying that in order to best show our children love, we must buy, buy, buy. All without compromising either the sale or the mother/son relationship.

Who doesn't want or need a teammate in motherhood? Come on, Target, be a team player.

Wishing this was a joke...

...but it's actually an advertorial (a paid advertisement that is presented to look like an editorial article). The text instructs women to ask for a raise by following simple steps, starting with step No. 1: "showering with Summer's Eve Femine Wash or throwing a packet of Summer's Eve Feminine Cleansing Cloths into your bag for a quick freshness pick-me-up during the day."

(Because who doesn't associate feminine hygeine with getting that much-deserved raise or promotion? Surely your boss does?)

While I don't know who created this placement (or who reviewed and approved it), fingers on Facebook are being pointed at men. It doesn't really matter which gender is actually to blame. Someone simply missed the mark. Which begs the question of the day: is it really that hard to hit?

Is this offensive to you?

Let me Tell you about the Show

I learned something this morning in the Pre-K class by accident. Or osmosis. Actually it was eavesdropping.

Every Friday. EVERY. FRIDAY. Is show-and-tell day.

I learned this by overhearing Graham's teacher ask another kid if she had something in her backpack for show and tell. The only things in Graham's backpack were lunch and a just-in-case change of clothes.

So bizarre that I didn't get the memo in the FIVE HUNDRED various pieces of paper we've received from the school over the course of the first few weeks. I read it all. Even the stuff that had absolutely no relevancy to the pre-Ks at all. Did it say anywhere anything about show and tell? No. Did it say anywhere anything about what the key code combination is for the pre-school door? Nope. Did it provide a parental outline the curriculum or objectives or strategies for what my child will be learning this year? Nah. Did it outline the hot lunch menu for the K-8th graders that indicated only two days of the month would be healthy lunch days? Well, yes.

Thisschoolhasagreatreputation.Greatreputation.Greatreputation.Greatreputation.Greatreputation.

Never mind the clear lack of communication skills on the school's part. And the disorganization around getting simple messages to parents. What I am most frustrated with is not that I did not know that Fridays are show and tell days. It's that EVERY FRIDAY IS SHOW-AND-TELL DAY.

Yes, I am a marketer. I have built a very meaningful career around getting people, mostly moms, to buy my clients' products. I love doing this. I am fascinated with the psychology of the consumer - most particularly moms and the power they (we) wield, and what they buy on behalf the household, including their children. I soak up data about why they are buying, where they are buying, and how they communicate with each other about those purchases. Those toys - the ones that my son's classmates brought today for show and tell? Somewhere out there, a marketer's objectives were assisted by the purchases of these toys.

Yes, I am a fan of American consumerism! I study and practice this art daily! I make a living on consumerism and I personally contribute part of that living to the American economy!

But my 4-year-old? I want to protect him from the want of things. My stomach turns with the idea that today at school he might think someone is better because they have a particular monster truck. Or the bigger Buzz Lightyear. Or this thing or that thing that he doesn't have. Things. To have. Or have not.

Who cares? My problem with this is that he doesn't know enough to not care. He cares. He loves toys. He is four. Jealousy? Materialism? These are unwelcome attributes in our house. But today at my son's school, they may be lurking. They may be hiding in the shadows of the classroom, just waiting for the opportunity to make themselves at home in his heart. The opportunity that may come at show-and-tell time. I can't stand the thought.

Why is show and tell still okay? Where is the teachable moment in this activity? I posed the question to the experts on Twitter. You know - the place where the experts congregate! @eCelebrating was optimistic with this response: "no idea. best bets: sharing, storytelling, taking turns, paying attention, learning about new items. ???"

I agree with the question marks. In my opinion, show and tell fosters unnecessary materialism in our youth. Four-year-olds don't need to learn public speaking by showing off their favorite toys and feeling badly that 'Johnny has this but I don't.' They need us to remind them about what really matters. Thoughts, not things. People, not products. Yes, this from a marketer.

I believe show and tell has no place in an educational class room.

What do you believe?

How the drive-in reignited my love for Disney

When is the last time you saw a movie outside, from the back of your car, or bed of your truck, under a starry summer sky, the sound resonating from car speakers and maybe just a tad bit crackly?

It was Hubby’s idea. I was going to take Graham on a date to Toy Story 3. He’s been so, SO into Toy Story lately and didn’t even realize there was a third installment in movie theaters taking the country by storm. I felt like I was holding out on him, like holding a bouncy red ball over my head, too high for him to reach. But also? He didn’t even know there was a red bouncy ball out of his reach. To be fair, I just HAD to share it with him. And then Hubby discovered it was playing at the drive-in and suggested we make it a family affair.

“Yeah,” I said to Hubby, the light bulb slowly starting to glow in my mind as I tried to picture us at a d-r-i-v-e i-n . “Yeah, let’s go to the drive-in.”

Hubby and I reminisced about the old drive-in in our hometown. I remember being there in my pajamas, in the car, blankie in tow. I don’t remember the movie we saw from the comforts of the car, but rather just being there because it was different. It’s the “different” that we remember.

I think my kids will remember the “different,” too.

We popped popcorn at home first and put it in paper sacks. We filled up lidded cups. We packed peanut butter and crackers in baggies. The boys took baths and pulled on their pajamas. We loaded up the car and didn’t forget Buzz Lightyear and Jessie – so they could see themselves on the big screen under the stars. I grabbed their blankies. They didn’t care as much as I did about the blankie part. It just felt right.

The movie started “at dusk.” We weren’t sure exactly what time that was. There was some mystery to it all… who else a drive-in attracts these days, how exactly it all works once you get there (you park backwards, by the way, and open up the SUV hatch, sit on the back, pull out camping chairs and coolers – much more of a community experience than I remembered), how hot it might be and whether our car battery would die if we sat for two hours with the AC on (which we did not do).

They looked at the speaker-on-a-stick and asked if Woody was inside.

“Daddy, do you want a cold beer?” Reid asked in his loud voice during a quiet part.

“But that’s not HER cowboy, it’s HIS!!” Graham shrieked right at that heart-tugging part when Andy bestowed his beloved Cowboy Woody to the next generation of playmate.

Graham hopped down off the bumper and climbed up in my camping-chair lap to give me a big hug right at the point that Andy was playing with his pals for one. last. time. He’s not old enough to get emotional, but I think he knew there was something special about that part. Something… different. That boy has quite the intuition.

Did the drive-in reignite my love for Disney? Or did Disney re-ignite my love for the drive-in?

Maybe a little of both. It was different. It was awesome.

Take your target off of my child

Recently I had the pleasure of attending a seminar featuring the Chairman of Disney Consumer Products, Andy Mooney. Mooney shared insights that drive his business, one of the four divisions of the overarching Disney brand. In other words, he is one of those people I listen to and excitedly think, “I need to work for [INSERT THE PERSON’S BIG BRAND HERE]!!” But I digress.

Mooney shared several behind-the-curtain insights, which you might have noticed that day if you follow me on Twitter but one thing he said about Disney’s targeting particularly stood out to me and is still bouncing around in both the personal and professional sides of my brain like a little brain gnat that can’t do much damage but at the same time completely annoys me.

When asked who are Disney’s target audience or audiences, what do you think Mooney’s response was? Moms of kids within a certain age, right?

Nope, his first mention was girls ages 2 to 10, followed by boys slightly younger.

Not the moms… the kids.

This is not to say moms aren’t a consumer target for Disney, clearly Disney focuses on multiple target audiences including moms and its Disney Moms panel for the theme parks is a great example of that. But there is an audience prioritization going on. And our kids are in the bullseye. The marketers’ first thought, their first mention.

It’s not right or wrong. Clearly it’s working for Mooney. But here are several reasons why I can’t get this comment out of my mind:

1. Mooney pointed to young children first – children likely too young to even have an allowance – as Disney’s primary target. Typically when we talk about targets, we are referring to consumers. Consumers by definition spend money. Does your young child do his or her own shopping, or do you shop for your child? Who is in charge?
2. Mooney’s comment also tells me that Disney likely buys into the concept of nagging. I don’t want to think that Disney wants to wear me down to a ‘giving in’ point to get me to buy something my kids want. Rather, I want to know that Disney wants to build me up to get me to do the same behavior – to market to me directly and make me feel that if I gift my child with some Disney product I will be a better mom with happier, smarter, better-adjusted children.
3. Mooney revealed that Disney looks at girls first and boys second. It’s no surprise that Disney is known for princesses and Cinderella’s castle. But boys love to be entertained just as much as girls do, and I still haven’t grasped the reasons why both genders aren’t equal opportunity customers for the Disney brand. I don’t tell my boys they can’t like pink, but the bottom line is they don’t want to play with princesses.
4. As the mother of two children in this age range, the idea that there are strategy meetings going on to determine how to get my children to act a certain way makes my mama bear radar go up. Target me, that’s fine. I welcome brand engagement as the owner of the purse strings. I know what strategies are being put together around moms as consumers. But target my children with such strategies? Something feels icky about it.

Is it okay with you for a brand to target your kids, instead of you as the purchaser for your kids?

Attempting to Stop the Shiny Penny from Jumping to Conclusions

Hubby Hawks is a research subject. Or, he should be. Watching him father, I feel as though I am watching a major generational shift taking place in my own home. I’m watching a trend gathering in front of my face. You know that term “The Greatest Generation?” Well, I believe he is part of the greatest generation of fatherhood to date.

Let me explain…

My husband is helpful. Yesterday, I bragged to my colleague in the office that the night before I had come home to enchiladas in the oven. Yes, my husband cooks. He changes diapers. He bathes our children. He plays and reads stories. He packs lunches and backpacks.

I know. I’m livin’ the dream. But let me clarify. When I say he’s helpful, it’s not that he’s helping me per se. He’s helping his children. Because he is their father. He is parenting.

I do all of those things too. (Although for some reason I find giving baths so tiring.) But I am no Betty Draper, thank God. (Okay, and I am a horrible cook. Are you happy now?)

That colleague I mentioned above has a different parenting experience. In her household, some of the antiquated and stereotypical gender roles are still evident. Some. At least, enough for her to be in awe of my enchiladas in the oven.

The Cassandra New Family Report of 2009 underscored the shift to this new involved dad. It showed that Gen X and Y dads don’t see staying at home with the kids as demeaning. In fact, 40% of Gen Y dads believe themselves to be the primary caretaker of the children. When asked how they would choose to spend a free afternoon, they said they would want to be with their children. Moms said they would choose to have alone time.

This is all very exciting. But the research is also giving people permission to draw assumptions… jump to conclusions. Some think the daddy blogger will become the new marketing influencer, the “new mommy blogger.” I’m not convinced. Research shows dads just don’t communicate in the same ways we do. I’ve talked about this before, but maybe you weren’t reading here then. Dads who are changing diapers aren’t dictating what diapers to buy. They aren’t telling each other why they choose said diaper brand, or what that diaper brand is currently doing to green its business practices. They aren’t forging blogging communities and networks to find each other and have these conversations about where parenting and products intersect like moms are. Okay, okay, some dads are. SOME. Not enough to make a statistically significant difference. And that is the point.

And yes, I am fully aware that we have recently entered for the first time ever that point in which there are as many men as women in the workforce. And that the economic downturn forced more men to stay at home with the kids. But getting laid off doesn’t mean those dads were rushing home to start blogging about whether their kids’ chocolate milk should be organic. If I was a dad who was laid off in 2009 and I knew that some marketers equate my loss of a job to my being now part of a rising trend of “daddy bloggers” oh I would be pissed.

How could marketers be so tied to gender stereotypes that they think just because dads today are more involved, more hands on, more helpful in the household (or God forbid because they have lost a job) that they must also now be the same kind of consumer as moms are, having the same conversations in the same places?

Some marketers are too quick to jump on the daddy blogger bandwagon. I consider it part of the shiny penny syndrome that is rampant in this business. With every calendar rotation, the talk naturally shifts to what’s going to be the new trend? What’s going to be the new in thing for our business, to keep the trade media and our competitors talking about us, guessing our next move?

The more things change, the more they stay the same. My husband is not living his father’s fatherhood. But he is also not living my motherhood. And I can assure you he will never blog, tweet, or status-post. And if he does, it’s not going to involve any mention of diapers or organic chocolate milk.

That said, I do believe there is another type of blogger who will start to add volume to the mommy blogger’s voice this year and over the next few years, and I’ll share more on that in my next post.

(Ooooh, my first blog cliffhanger! Are you excited?)

Why I Am an Accenture Mombassador

Oh, Tiger. You certainly fooled us.

Weeks after your scandalous news broke, it’s not the fact that you aren’t the role model we thought you were. It’s not the fact that you are cheating on a Swedish model and having unprotected sex with random women you meet in bars and clubs. It’s not the fact that my husband has always looked up to you (*ahem*).

No, what I’m struggling with now is actually not even your fault directly. You see, it’s not about how you fooled us, but about how some of your sponsors are still fooled. I just can’t fathom why some of them are standing by you, you dirty, dirty liar.

Let’s take Nike, for example, which pays you $30 million dollars a year. You just paid one of your mistresses some of these millions. These are the dollars that hardworking Americans earn and spend on your sponsors’ products. The sponsors hand the money over to you. To sell more of their products. Do they think the American public is stupid enough to want to buy more of said products because you, the now exposed Tiger Woods, are telling them to?

"I think he's been really great. When his career is over, you'll look back on these indiscretions as a minor blip, but the media is making a big deal out of it right now," said Phil Knight, Nike’s chairman and co-founder.

A minor blip. The media is making a big deal. Is Phil Knight married?

Spokespeople are chosen to represent companies and their products based on character, likeability, and some perception that people want to emulate their actions. Do your sponsors really believe that we think you are still likeable? Yes, you are the greatest golfer to every play the sport, but doesn't likeability incorporate the personal, not just the professional? (And dear God, I hope people aren’t wanting to emulate your actions.)

Will moms start to think twice about buying their families Nike shoes considering Nike’s position? Is Nike considering their mom consumers in making the choice to disregard Tiger’s “transgressions?”

Some may argue that Nike believes Tiger’s image will turn around somewhere down the line. But it really doesn’t matter if or when Tiger ever makes a comeback. What matters is that right now, Nike believes that Tiger still personifies the qualities that it wants its spokespeople to have.

Should it matter to consumers that Nike is willing to show more loyalty to its fallen spokesperson than to its own integrity for being associated with an immoral cheater?

Kudos to Accenture for giving its consumers more credit than that.

When will VW get the mom memo?

The soccer mom is dead. She is buried next to the Astro mini-van. And if she wasn’t, I would kill her after watching videos like the one featured in this recent article.

I wasn’t sure whether I should feel offended or annoyed at the video, which is marketing the VW Routan. So I felt both.

The mom in question has an annoying mom-jean, bouncing around, hugging strangers kind of persona. Of course she speaks with a northern Midwest accent, youbetcha. To make it worse, this soccer mom has forgotten her children who are sitting on a street curb alone in the rain.
Did VW miss a little what-not-to-do-when-marketing-to-moms case study called Motrin Moms? Moms don’t like snark. They don’t want to be portrayed as disregarding their children. They certainly don’t want to be shown has having half a brain. They are tech-savvy, empowered multi-taskers in charge of the household after all.

For Pete’s sake, how many times are we going to have to keep regurgitating the Motrin Moms case before other major brands come around?

And they probably aren’t self-identifying as soccer moms anymore, even though kids’ soccer may very well be a big deal at home. Research has uncovered more than 50 mom sub-segments. Yet decades after the birth and death of the Soccer Mom, we still see her starring in mom-focused campaigns.

The Routan mom should be wielding a smart phone (not a clipboard!) where she manages the family calendar and 'to-dos.' And said to-do list wouldn’t include “don’t forget children.” She should be trendy (like her Routan?) and socially appropriate.

Of course moms appreciate humor in marketing. But it’s just not funny when the target is mom and particularly one we can’t identify with. We need to laugh with her; not at her.

Is this the consumer VW folks see when a mom walks into a dealership? Take the sterotype-colored glasses off, VW marketers. Not to mention the fact that if this is the type of mom driving a Routan, do you really think that’s the type of driver persona I want to identify with?

When did making-fun-of-mom become a marketing strategy?

So many questions. Such high blood pressure. (sigh)

My Dealer Turned on Me

My beloved drive thru turned on me today.

I pulled into the Starbucks as I do every day, ordered my grande non-fat no-whip mocha, as I do every day, and waited for the barista to tell me it would be $3.84, as they do every day.

But today, something interrupted the flow.

“There’s been a little price increase” said the voice inside the speaker. “That’ll be $4.06.”

Wait, huh? Excuse me? Baking powder?

Starbucks must not have gotten the memo. There is an economic crisis going on. We are entering a recession. People are still losing their jobs.

Seattle is a part of this country, right?

But Starbucks decided now is the time to raise prices.

I tweeted about this immediately. Oh, take that! I’ll tweet you! And then I’ll blog you! And you’ll see!

I asked the barista at the window, after handing over my $4.06 if this was a national increase or local. And if it was on the entire menu or specific items. She clearly hadn’t been having a good morning thanks to the news. She informed me it was national and on almost every item and that her store had just been informed of it THIS MORNING. And then she instructed me to get online and send a complaint to corporate!

I considered doing a little math and figuring out exactly how much extra this will cost me over a year’s time and how many regularly priced mochas that amount would equate to and... Ugh, math.

(Which reminds me, my finance class starts tonight. Ugh, finance.)

But still.

Dear God, Starbucks, I feel guilty enough that I buy a grande mocha from you EVERY.SINGLE.DAY and how much that takes from my family’s budget. Why don’t you twist the knife a little more? Why don’t you pour some lemon juice on my paper cut? Huh? And while you’re at it, why don’t you just draw up the divorce papers my husband will be signing when he decides he can’t support my addiction to you anymore?!??

Consider it complained, barista.

The obligatory stealing-a-candy-bar-from-the-grocery-store moment

Hey, you, grocery cart manufacturers. Guess what? My kids love your innovative designs. Grocery carts today are nothing like the metal grid boxes of my childhood. Particularly those that incorporate the plastic race car.

In fact, the older Hawklet begs us to go to Lowe’s constantly so he can “be Jimmy Johnson.” He even recognizes the street if we start to head in that general direction and gets excited in the car. We don’t watch racing at home. He just loves that Jimmy Johnson car cart at Lowe’s. And therefore he begs us to take him to Lowe’s. Wow, you Lowe’s marketers – good job!

I ask him what we need to buy at Lowe’s and his response is “everything and everything.” Now I love home improvement, but that’s maybe my limit.

The kid just LOVES the carts.

But those of you who thought that it would be such fun to put the “car” on the bottom of the cart – down at the floor level – rather than up top like the geniuses at Lowe’s? Now, come on. We’ve finally gotten past the point that they just walk out of the cart as we drive up and down the aisles. So that was an accomplishment. But last week – a different story. Last week my two race car drivers were hidden as we pulled through the grocery check-out lane. Down there in the narrowest of areas in the grocery store – the area in which they are surrounded by juicy tabloids, batteries, Tide-to-Go, and CANDY. Where they are hidden from watching parental eyes and where it’s just too easy to reach…out…and…touch…that…beloved…delicious…CANDY…

And they proceeded to help themselves.

And down there in their little race car, my two little drivers made it all the way to the real car before Hubby and I knew anything of their little trick. In fact, just like a little raccoon, Reid had already eaten right through the plastic sleeve around his selection – a Crunch bar. Graham, so much more responsible, was holding on to his Hershey bar. Saving it for later, perhaps. Mmm – hmm.

Upon foiling their plan, Hubby pivoted right around, carrying one, dragging the other, back into the store for the obligatory apology. He paid for the partially eaten Crunch – 40 cents (nice job, Reid, selecting the one on sale). Then Graham apologized to the grocery clerk and asked if she would buy the Hershey bar for him. I don’t think either of them cared much and obviously didn’t feel any shame or guilt.

Just another day in the life of a toddler boy. Another day, another milestone.

Does Your Child Like Square Butts?

A couple weeks ago, Hubby and I were wrapped up in our weekly "Lost" watching ritual (truly the only show we both are addicted to - between E! News and ESPN, we somehow meet in the middle at "Lost") and out of nowhere we were slapped by it. The dancing king mascot. The hotties stuffing phone books into their Daisy Duke shorts. The Sir-Mix-a-Lot (he’s a rapper, mom) cameo. The demoralization of a beloved cartoon character. Oh yeah, and Burger King wants us to buy kids meals.

Huh?

Yeah, you know – kids and square butts. I always think of the two together. You don’t?

Actually, I should mention that we don’t use the word “butt” in our house. It’s “bottom.” That’s my mother coming out of me. Which I am fine with.

I digress. Sitting there, still slightly confused as usual by the current "Lost" storyline, and suddenly finding ourselves even more confused by the use of phone books inside shorts and Sir-Mix-a-Lot in an ad, we turned to each other with furrowed brows and asked, “Was that a commercial for a KIDS MEAL?”

It was.

As I anticipated, the next day the blogosphere was abuzz. Moms were outraged, not only at Burger King for its obvious lack of appropriateness in kid-marketing tactics, but also at Nickelodeon for offering Sponge Bob up for such a crude spot that objectifies women. I mean, if I want my toddlers to learn about objectifying women, I’d expect that kind of education from MTV or "The Girls Next Door." Not you, Nick.

And then, it happened again. Last night, a couple weeks after our first square butt encounter, we saw it again. And this time, even Hubby was perplexed: “I can’t believe they haven’t pulled that ad.”

Note to Burger King: even my testosterone-filled husband finds your kids meal ad offensive. Something is really off here.

Other folks think we should all lighten up. What do you think? Should the fact that Burger King at least got people talking be considered a win? Or, was the hype worth the associated negativity? The use of Sponge Bob and tape measures sizing up female dancers’ square tushes certainly didn’t make me think about veering my car of toddlers towards the BK drive thru. You?

Learning to Pitch

When my sister and I were young, we had three channels to watch on one TV in our farmhouse in rural Missouri. Weekend choices were typically sports that we weren’t into or infomercials. This was of course all before we moved into town and suddenly had *gasp!* cable and my mother had MTV ‘scrambled’ for fear it would turn us into rebel promiscuous teenagers.

One lazy afternoon camped in front of that TV in the basement, we saw it. We became enthralled. We could make our own fruit roll ups. We could make banana chips. We could even make beef jerky. Did I just say that? You’d better believe it. WE COULD MAKE OUR OWN BEEF JERKY!

It was the Ronco Food Dehydrator. We were sold.We memorized those message points, relayed so melodically from that oh-no-she-is-not-scripted hostess. We were as amazed at the demos as was that of-course-they’re-not-actors audience. We readied ourselves and went in for the pitch.

To mom.

We sat her down on the couch and convinced her that we would eat oh-so healthfully since all of our snacks would be sugar-free dehydrated fruit and such. We would waste less produce because once it started giving those about-to-start-turning-brown signals, we would just chop it up and make banana fruit or dried tomatoes. Or whatever. And we would make our own – healthy – fruit roll-ups! We would save money! And it’s so easy to clean! And so many trays – you can dehydrate so much at once! It’s a wave of the future – right here on the farm! We HAVE. TO. GET. IT!

She listened. She processed. She even had questions. But how much electricity does it use? Oh yes, she played right along. Except we were serious.

She must have admired the effort. The pitch. She made the toll-free call. We were in.

It came in the mail a little while later. We did make the banana chips, though they were a little more gooey than chippy. And we made the tomatoes. We put them in plastic baggies and snacked on dried tomatoes – because we could. We had a Ronco Food Dehydrator so we could snack on weird things like that that kids just do not snack on. Never got around to the fruit roll-ups or the beef jerky (can’t imagine why – I didn’t even learn how to brown hamburger until my senior year of college, yes I’m admitting that). But it was great.

Many years later, I gifted it to a friend in exchange for helping us move into an apartment. He was a fraction as excited as we were on that presentation day.

And now here I am in PR. Thanks Ronco Food Dehydrator.

And thanks, mom.

Marketing to the Novice Mom (and that means you, too)

A close friend of mine is expecting her second child and we are quite excited to welcome her to the club of multiples – the club to which you have to demonstrate a man-on-man defensive strategy in order to make the team. The club of twice the exhaustion, twice the discipline, twice the worry, and twice the amount of unconditional love, kisses and giggles. Aaaww.

Marketing to the second-time mom is considered a great untapped opportunity because marketers are so focused on the first-time mom. The first-timer is registering for products she’s never used before. She is asking for product recommendations from friends, colleagues, and stranger moms on the street who appear to be enjoying their particular brand of stroller. She is reading the books and magazines and vowing to get it right, and not just inside the lucrative baby products industry. She is considering whether she needs new digital equipment to capture every moment, whether she needs a car or home upgrade to accommodate a new family member, whether she has enough life insurance, the right financial planner, and on and on.

But the soon-to-be second-time mom is both an expert and a novice. She’s done this before, this motherhood thing. She knows what to expect her body to go through; she doesn’t need the books or classes, or nearly as much advice. But she has also never mothered two at once and she’s suddenly doubly responsible, bearing double the weight of the world on her shoulders. She needs more of all those products she belabored for the first child. She is considering which decisions she made previously that weren’t so great – and she is upgrading to better options. She is figuring out how to do it better. And at the least, she is looking for those things that can make it a little easier to get through each day with twice as many children.

Yes, she is new at this, but so is the third-time mom, and the fourth-time mom, and on and on. In fact, every one of us as moms, no matter if we are expecting our second or seventh child, is both an expert and a novice. I don’t know what it’s like yet to walk my babies into the first day of kindergarten, to try to ease my child’s broken heart, or to survive driver’s license day (and each driving day thereafter).

Being a novice at every single stage of motherhood is one reason we are constantly in this evolutionary mode, and the reason we are part of such a powerful market, challenging marketers to keep up. The emotional factors that inevitably drive our purchase decisions are changing as quickly as our children are changing. The brand messages that meant nothing to me last week may be critical to me this week. If I got a Pull-Ups coupon in the mail last week, when my Hawklet couldn’t care less about the potty and was perfectly content to hang out with poop in his pants, I probably tossed it (right after changing a diaper, of course). But next week when we have an epiphany at our house and (wishful thinking!) start to get that potty thing down, where are those Pull-Ups marketing messages going to be?

It is also the reason that as marketers, we can’t market to moms generationally. A Gen-Xer mom and a millennial mom who are at the same momhood stage of novice and expert are keyed into the same prompts, no matter their demographic differences. A 40-year old mother of one toddler offers marketers the same opportunities as does a 20-something mother of one toddler.

Our kids – and their constant stages – teach us how to mother, guide our purchase decisions, and determine when we’ve advanced from novice to expert. And with each kiss and hug, they show us that we are all graduating with honors.

Why Did I Buy That?

I am not one to have a lot of buyer’s remorse. As a woman who literally rushes home from shopping trips to show Hubby Hawks how much I saved versus full price, (yes I have an affinity for Tuesday Morning and TJ Maxx), how could I possibly have buyer’s remorse? I am Mrs. Bargain Hunter, and if I regret a purchase, who cares? It was 80% off after all! I am actually saving money when I’m spending money! (Hubby is rolling his eyes at this moment.)

But in looking through pictures of the Hawklets recently, and at the toys, clothing, and surroundings of stuff in the photos, I started to ponder what drove me to purchase some of the more obscure items we own, and particularly those I select for the babes – you know, the things that you don’t research, compare, discuss, and belabor, like a refrigerator or a new car. The stuff you give a half-glance and throw in a cart while trying to keep two little boys from running off to another aisle or toppling over the side of the cart onto their heads.

Why did I choose those footed pajamas? Why those sippy cups? How did we end up with that particular toy car? Why are we so loyal to Tide?

It’s not that I have a problem with any of these things. I just wonder how they won me over -- how they beat out the other options to make it into my cart and eventually into my household, into our routine. How they wooed my psyche.

What drives my purchase decisions? I spend my professional days researching and strategizing around how moms decide to buy certain brands at certain stores at certain prices – the why, when, where, and how of it all. What moves me? And particularly, when I’m not paying attention?

Research shows word of mom is critical in this equation. But thanks to both anecdotal and academic data, I know it’s just that – an equation. One piece of the pie just isn’t going to satisfy me. I am no robot mom under the control of another mom, emulating everything she does or says.

But yet I am still under some amount of control by the especially savvy marketers who know that as a mom, I am more likely to pick up the thing that makes me feel like I am making the right decision for my child, the right decision for our budget, that is the right color and has intriguing merchandising, that I’ve seen other moms in my circle using or talking about, that is reinforced by some level of advertising, that has claims I can believe in thanks to appropriate PR (and give or take other various factors depending on the brand or product).

The things all around us in the Hawks household have somehow gotten it right – that mom equation. They won out over alternative options. They attracted my mommy hand, plucking them off the shelf, tossing them into our cart, bringing them into our home, into our routine.

And maybe – hopefully – they even gave me a new opportunity to show Hubby how much money I saved by buying them!

Moms on Drugs

Have you ever considered your "choice" ache and pain reliever? Are you an ibuprofen brand snob, finding yourself partial to Motrin, or Advil? Or perhaps even Walgreen's brand? Do you choose Tylenol instead? Does it all really matter?

Last week, a highly vocal and organized force appeared out of the Internet to say vehemently, "Yes! It does matter!" Oh. It does?

Let me get you up to speed if by chance you only read here for the Hawklet pictures, and you couldn't care less what happens in the world of marketing to moms.

Over the weekend, some moms who have a megaphone called a blog or a Twitter user name came across an online video advertisement for Motrin. Have you ever had a conversation with someone about Motrin? I'm guessing not. Because Motrin is just one of a host of options for general aches and pains. It's not something ground-breaking, sexy or controversial. Like Viagra. Right? So, for something like Motrin to spark a controversy is kind of a big deal. Well, that's exactly what it became thanks to said moms with digital megaphones.

These women were PUT OFF by the snarky sarcastic tone of this particular ad, which likened "baby wearing" (you know, wearing your baby on your body via a front pack or sling) to two negatives: 1) causing horrible back and shoulder pains and 2) serving as an accessory that allows access into a sacred club. "I am now officially a mom because I am wearing my baby." Whoops. Motrin apparently didn't consider the fact that babywearing moms are not in the mood for snark. Nor do they believe babywearing is the root of these evils. Rather, it's a wonderful bonding experience and convenient way to hold baby close while having your hands free to tackle other more meanacing issues, like dishes. (No snark intended! Dishes don't do themselves!)

Johnson & Johnson's McNeil Consumer Healthcare division markets Motrin, and its VP of Marketing made the decision to pull the ad - a month after it was first posted - because of the explosion of angry moms blogging and tweeting in outrage about this otherwise unknown online ad over the course of a couple days. In other words, using social media, passionate moms took on a healthcare giant, and won.

So while this has been a fascinating case study in the power of the momfluential, and specifically in the social networking space, what I don't get is why these moms aren't as passionate, as organized, and as vocal about things that I dare say matter more than the tone of an online ad. Why not get this organized about children without healthcare insurance? How about contaminated drinking water? There happens to be an economic crisis going on - how about organizing around that? Or, hey, even the fact that Baby Gap doesn't have a motorized door? Have you ever tried to hold a giant glass swinging door open with your foot while using all of your weight to maneuver and push a loaded double stroller through it? Hello, Baby Gap??

Now there's something to get tweeting mad about!

My Frito Pie Future?

Hubby Hawks was a wrestler. He is from a family of wrestlers -- five of the seven boys in his family wrestled in high school. And they were all good. And now two of them, Hubby included, are wrestling officials in their "spare" time between December and February. It's his opportunity to get back on the mat, be in the midst of weekend tourney excitement, the shouting, the old wood gym smell, the Frito pie lunches, the bleachers of middle aged parents weilding video cameras, the sweat, blood and sometimes tears.

Even though wrestling is apparently part of his DNA, he has always said that he does not care if his boys want to follow in his wrestling shoes. He wants them to find their own passions. In the meantime, I'm having a blast sampling the options with them. Sure, in our backyard you'll find the t-ball set and the basketball hoop and the baseballs and bikes, yadda yadda.

But what I find more exciting are the sports you can't buy at Target. Last year, we completed our first round of swimming lessons and discovered we have two water babies. Then last week, Graham took his first horseback riding lesson. My little two-year-old trotted around an arena on a full-sized stallion like a real equestrian. I shared the saddle with him, sitting behind him and beaming with pride that my little toddler was telling this massive animal to "go faster!"

In the meantime, attempting to not assign Reid a label already at just 18 months, he so far actually appears to be...wait for it...a wrestler. It's nearly shocking to see him actually almost doing it right, taking down Graham in the family room. As in, actual technique. (Yes, you may be surprised to know there is actual technique for barbaric acts. There is a "right" way to go about annihilating your opponent.) This 18-month-old may not need any of dad's covert coaxing into wrestling after all. Watching him take down his big brother, I found myself glimpsing the future, smelling the sweat and Frito pies...

But I was brought back to earth when I came across this article about what parents will pay on their kids' sports. "Your kid won't be as good if you don't pay for all the extras," one dad says within. Kids' sports is no longer about fun, exercise and character building; it's about transactions -- an industry with a new array of products. Parents apparently have no choice but to engage with it all if they are to give their kids a chance at making a school team. There are 40 times more kids participating in baseball traveling teams today than there were just 10 years ago. What will this industry look like 10 years from now? Are sports still about kids having fun, or is this a hotbed for sports marketers?