This is fun. I was asked to participate in a project called, A Letter To My Baby. It’s part of the fourth installment of the New York Times best-selling book series, A Letter To My…. Of course I jumped at the opportunity to immortalize my very best, most heart-felt motherly advice in a letter to my two beautiful baby girls. I spent days about an hour, feverishly penning my words of wisdom. I was so proud. So I passionately read my masterpiece Alex.
For 2 and half minutes she listened intently. I could tell she was captivated by my brilliant insight. When I finished reading, she blinked a few times then lifted her finger, pointed to her diaper and said, “Poop.”
I imagine my 21-week fetus had a similar reaction.
Not sure if my letter will end up in the book but here it is on their blog with a few internet-approved photos of us. Check it out now and don’t forget to write nice things about it in the comments section. And while you’re there, you can also learn about writing a letter to your own baby and get updates on the upcoming book by following them on all the social media you pretend to hate.
But if you love my blog so much that you can’t bare to click out of it yet, stick around and read the letter that my daughter thinks is poop right here:
To My Two Baby Girls,
First of all, I hope you like your names. I spent hours compromising with your father until he felt like his opinion mattered. But if you don’t like them, it’s his fault. He chose them. Just ask him.
There’s so much I need to tell you, like eat as much peanut butter chocolate ice cream as you can before your 25th birthday. After that, it all goes downhill (and rolls onto your ass).
As grown women, you’ll be tempted to lie about your age. Never go younger. Instead, add at least ten years. You’ll always look amazing. And, by the way, if anyone asks, your mother is 75. Mathematically, this won’t make sense but chances are you won’t even notice. The genetic odds that you’ll be good at math are stacked heavily against you. Sorry.
Also, don’t spend thousands of dollars on special diets in preparation for your wedding day. Instead, just go as your beautiful self. Plus, ten years later, the last thing you want to hear is how amazing “you used to look.”
As your great grandmother used to tell me, “Never let ’em see you sweat.” I’m pretty sure she got this from a deodorant commercial. Or maybe they got it from her. Either way, it’s amazing advice. It means be confident. Or maybe it means always wear deodorant. It took me my entire life (all 75 years of it) to understand just how important it really is—confidence, not deodorant. Actually deodorant is really important too. With these two things, you can accomplish anything (even in oppressive heat). They’ll be plenty of people who will try to steal your confidence away from you. Don’t let them. It just means they don’t have any themselves.
Judge people. And judge them hard. But not based on their clothes, weight, religion, race, birthplace, profession, paycheck or any other superficial bullshit people will tell you is important. Instead, judge them based on how they treat people. Are they kind? Do they respect you and those around them? If so, hold them tight. These are the kinds of people you want in your life. (And, if you’re going to go out to dinner, it helps if they’re good at math).
Never lose sight of your sense of humor. It will get you through awkward first dates, tough job interviews, that first huge pimple on the tip of your nose (we all get at least one), your worst day, your best day, your saddest moment and your craziest hour. You’ll learn that laughter really is the best medicine. And wine. Lots of wine. But don’t drink until you’re at least my age, 75, because…smart phones! SMART PHONES! They remember everything. Even after you drop them in the toilet. Twice.
But most importantly, understand that life isn’t always easy and there are no guarantees. Actually, that’s a lie. There is one: I’ll always be with you. Whether you can see me or not, I’ll always be there to soften your fall, cheer you on, laugh with you, cry with you and eat peanut butter chocolate ice cream with you—even if it rolls onto my ass. I got fat for you once and I’d do it a million more times. That’s a promise.