You need to know this: Tina Fey is my freakin’ hero. Like, seriously. Her writing, her producing, her comedic abilities, her Tracy Morgan jokes, her tomfoolery with fellow comedienne/writer/BFF Amy Poehler—all of it makes me puff my writer chest out, proud that she’s repping hard for regular girls with brains, wit and a sick sense of humor. 30 Rock was my show. Baby Momma was my movie. Saturday Night Live hasn’t been the same without her. And truly, she and Poehler were the only reason I bothered watching the Golden Globes.
But beyond her humor, I love Fey’s thoughts on motherhood. Last year, when her daughter got all geeked about acting after witnessing Quvenzhané Wallis‘ Oscar nomination, Fey humorlessly shut down any and all desire her daughter had for following in her mom’s show-business footsteps. And she once told David Letterman that her kid has sociopathic tendencies, which I think every mother secretly thinks about her kid. And now, come to find out that the Tina Fey book, Bossypants, which I totally need to read but haven’t because, well, I suck, has this hilarious prayer for her daughter. Simply put, Fey is a fool. But damn if I won’t say the same prayer over my daughters, too.
[Shout out to Awesomely Luvvie for sharing Fey’s hysterical words on her site! Bossypants is totally next up on my reading list.]
A Prayer For Alice, As Written In the Tina Fey Book, “Bossypants”
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.
Mom. NY Times bestselling author. Pop culture ninja. Unapologetic lover of shoes, bacon and babies. Nice with the verbs. Founder of the top black parenting website, MyBrownBaby.