I just bought my 5-year-old daughter a 90 freakin’ dollar doll.

I don’t regret it either.

Please understand that I am not a mom who spends lavishly on my children. Most of our clothes come from garage sales or thrift stores. Nor am I a suburban social climber. I don’t even drive a Suburban. I have a 1997 Subaru station wagon with 170,000 miles and a slightly smashed bumper.

But I bought a $90 doll for a five year old.

I did so because my daughter loves being a girl in the fullest sense of the word. She can run as fast or faster than any boy in her class – but she’ll do it in a dress and fake pearls.

She wants to be a veterinarian and a mom. Or a doctor and a mom. Or an artist and a mom. Or maybe a veterinarian/doctor/artist and a mom. She is easily influenced by whatever I put in front of her that day.

So I won’t be putting a Bratz doll in front of her. Five year olds shouldn’t salivate over dolls who sport tight pants, bared bellies and 50 dollar hooker makeup.

My daughter knows that she is beautiful just as she is: a little girl with pudgy cheeks, no waist, bruised shins and a big smile (that will need orthodontia one day).

So I also won’t be putting another Barbie doll in front of her either. We have found a few at garage sales and I have never been very comfortable with my decision to cave in and let her play with them. According to research by the University Central Hospital of Helsinki, if Barbie were an actual human, she would be an anatomical freak. Her measurements would be 36-18-33 and she wouldn’t have enough body fat on her to menstruate.

And I don’t even want to discuss the Disney Princesses and all of their inept fathers, dead mothers and never ending obsession with finding the right man and living happily ever after. (Yet I admit those ladies are in our house too.)

I need role models, real and pretend, that help little girls appreciate being little girls. Even better if they come with mothers. Barbie and the Bratz dolls don’t seem to have any parents at all and Disney seems to kill off most of the moms before the main characters’ stories even begin. I am a real mom with a real daughter and I need all the maternal role models I can find who will help me show her what it looks like to grow up and make hard but satisfying choices about education, career, love life, friends, faith and family.

Okay, yes, American culture isn’t all bad. Being female here is much easier than in, say, Saudi Arabia. This country has many wonderful things to offer her – maybe even the presidency one day. But in order to get my daughter to that point, I must make some hard choices for her and show her how to steer clear of 15 year old teen idols who nearly bare it all for Vanity Fair and “girl” magazines that stress “Four Moves to a Strong and Sexy Body” and “The Secret to Being a Great Kisser ” (Cosmo Girl Aug. 2008 edition). The editors of Cosmo Girl may argue that their magazine isn’t geared toward five year old girls, but I would argue that it shouldn’t be read by any girl who wants to believe that she is beautiful enough and worthy enough just as she is.

So I found Kit the American Girl Dol. It is hard not to find Kit. Aggressive marketing of the American Girl movie and the doll have made it nearly impossible not to be aware of the spunky little girl with a big heart who helps her family survive during the Great Depression. But Kit is marketed as, and looks just like, a little girl. She is not a tarted up rock star wannabe or an airy fairy princess looking to lead an enchanted, problem-free life. Kit also has a mom who is alive and kicking and is struggling with the choices she has to make for herself and her family.

The irony isn’t lost on me that this Depression-era doll which arrived at our house last week costs $90 in real money to purchase. Even her buffalo nickel costs extra. But the high cost of the doll sparked a great, real-world talk with my daughter about the value of money and the responsibility that comes with such an expensive gift. We talked about giving up a few good things to get one really great thing. After a little bit of time and a lot of thought, we mutually agreed that Kit would be a joint birthday gift from me and her dad and both sets of grandparents.

My daughter decided that Kit was worth it.

I agree completely.