Just recently, I had the most awesome reading-date with my fave 30 Rock actress/comedian Tina Fey opposite the dashing Sir Alec Baldwin. Who hasn’t heard of her when she gives a funny yet wonderful impression of US Vice Presidential candidate Sarah Palin . Or was it the other way around? Sarah Palin doing an impression of Tina Fey who was doing an impression of Ms. Palin , on the show Saturday Night Live. Anyway, I said reading-date because she was the author of the newest international bestseller called ” BOSSYPANTS ” . It was sort of a part-memoir of her life as an SNL boss , wife, mother , daughter, friend. She is indeed an icon in comedy-writing not only because her ideas have the dagger-sharp yet intellectually stimulating factors that trigger both my right and left brain hemispheres at once but also, she creates the funny flatulence jokes which will make you realize that despite the fame, she is still very much part of the human race. Not being too feminist here, but she is the Real Deal in comedy.
How so??? Well , from which book will you find new literary terms which you will not ever learn in modern school. Words like, teat Nazis (female advocates who condemn other women for not breastfeeding) , auto-erotic asphyxiation ( orgasm), Worldwide Parental Anxiety System ( a method used by parents to create anxiety and fear for their kids to avoid sex, drugs and other bad stuff ) and business class-assed ( a professional career woman) . These are but some fine examples of how creative she was in coming up with Neo-Modernistic terminology for comedy writing. Other interesting tips from the book are The Secrets of Mommy’s Beauty, Remembrances of Being Very Skinny and Peeing in Jars with Boys.
So here I am a mom giving a tribute to a fellow mom as a way of thanking her for the interesting and funny bits of life that she shared through her book. Here is the full version of the witty and touching Mother’s Prayer especially written for her 5-year old daughter Alice for your sheer enjoyment. This cracked me up, promise!
A Mother’s Prayer for Its Daughter
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 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 nearby 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.
So go and check out the book because as they always say, ” Mother knows best ” .