Thursday, September 12, 2013

Tina Fey's prayer

(Too much flash but what a sweet picture of Bella and Luca)

A Mother’s Prayer for Her Child By Tina Fey

“First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.

May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.

When the Crystal Meth is offered, may she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer.

Guide her, protect her when crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.

Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels. What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.

May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.

Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen.Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day – And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.

O Lord, break the Internet forever, that she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.

And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.

And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back. “My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.


-Tina Fey

My Aunt CeeCee posted this on her facebook today and it's true for the most part. I don't care if she choses to get tattoos but pretty much everything else in this prayer, it's something I wish for not only Bella but her two brothers as well. It brought tears to my eyes so I figured if I felt emotional about it, I should document it. Where better to document it than right here. 

I remember becoming a mother for the first time and calling each of my parents to thank them for raising me. Parenthood is no joke, it's like being thrown into the trenches without being told how to get out! As a child you don't know all of the things that your parents do for you, nor should you. The middle of the night feeds, though seriously exhausting, are moments to embrace. They pass so quickly. The baby blowing raspberries with a mouth full of milk, I love that little raspberry blowing dude, even if it means I'm covered in milk. The 2 yr old with the big heart melting eyes that says "Pick me up Mama" when I'm trying to prepare dinner. I'll pick that kid up because soon enough, he won't want to be held or picked up. That 4 year old who stomps her foot and says "UGGGHHHH" when I ask her a question or tell her no to something, she's the spitting image of her mama. I hope that determination and spunk will take her far in life. 

The days, sometimes they drag by. The years, they fly by. I remember nursing her at 11 months in the middle of the night and wondering "When on earth will this child sleep through the night?!" The answer was right around the corner, she slept through the night at 13 1/2 months. Yep, you read that right, she was over a year. She taught me patience. She taught me that things can wait, babies grow up and the cobwebs and dishes will remain. She continues to teach me as do the boys. I'm lucky to have them, we're lucky to have them. 

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