Dear Harvey Weinstein,
This is a letter to thank you. Yup, you probably didn’t think I was going to say that. These days I’ll bet most of the letters you’re getting are F.U. letters. But not me. I would like to say thank you.
All this time, we thought we were going to remember you for incredible movies like Pulp Fiction and Shakespeare in Love and The English Patient, but nope, we were wrong. Your legacy is going to be way more impactful than that. Because you are single-handedly changing the country in ways we only dreamed of.
Thanks to you, hundreds of thousands of young women will go to work tomorrow knowing that it is not okay for their bosses to rub their shoulders. Or to call a meeting in a hotel room. Or to undress her with his eyes. Or his hands. Or to pressure her to do anything that makes her feel uncomfortable.
Not again. NOT AGAIN. But yes, again. I turned on the TV this morning and there it was. And I quickly turned it off and snuck bits of it when the kids weren’t in the room. Because they do not need to know the kind of world they live in.
I am SO SICK of this feeling. I bring my kids to a movie theater and someone comes in with a backpack and I get a pit in my stomach. Or a guy walks into Starbucks and walks straight back to the bathroom and I watch. And wait. Ready to do what, I don’t know. Or I drop my kids off at school and I feel bad I yelled at them to get their shoes on this morning because what if something bad happens today.
This is the world we live in.
1. Trophies really meant something
Like I had to be in ballet for five years before I got a participation trophy. FIVE!!! And sports trophies came in different sizes so that the person who got first place got a bigger trophy than second and third. Duh, reality.
2. Birthday parties were low-key
1. Teach her how to look in the mirror and see a person, not a face.
2. Teach her that a little chocolate is okay. A little pizza is okay. And a little body fat is okay too.
3. Teach her that friends are like columns. You can lean on them all you want, but don’t step on them like horizontal rungs on a ladder.
4. Teach her how to hold her head up high and ask for more money. From her boss, not her husband.
So I was out to dinner the other night and there was this woman sitting a few tables away with her baby who was being a total douchenugget. I mean yeah, babies are often douchenuggets, but this one wouldn’t stop screaming and the mom was trying desperately to make her stop and you could tell she was frazzled and tired and at her wit’s end when suddenly she said…
WOMAN: Please just stop crying, Serenity.
1. Don’t tell me my kids are growing up so fast. No shit Sherlock. I’m like Zappos’s best customer on earth. And every time you tell me, it drives the stake into my heart a little more.
2. Don’t tell me I’m buckling my car seats wrong. If you don’t tell me how to buckle my car seats, I won’t tell you you’re an annoying shartrag.
3. Don’t tell me I should cherish every moment. Because when my douchenugget is screaming his head off and super-glueing himself to the floor in the cereal aisle because I won’t buy him Sugary Boogery O’s, the moment I cherish is when he goes to sleep later and I can sit on the couch and drink wine.
Today something amazing happened. Something really amazing. It all began when my family and I went to do a volunteer project. Just to set the scene, we were helping clean and sort toys and clothing and school supplies for thousands of impoverished kids in Chicago. My family was assigned to the toys section.
ME: I am soooo NOT looking forward to packing the whole family for our vacation.
HUBBY: Want me to do it?
Grrrrrr. The only reason he offers to pack is to get brownie points because he knows there’s no way I would ever let him pack for us. Why? Because I prefer spending our vacation on the beach hanging out, and NOT in the nearest store buying allllllll the stuff he forgot to bring. Well, guess what? This time I’m calling his bluff.
Yesterday our kids were being jerks. Little a-holes. Douchenuggets. And yes Miss Trolly McTrollypants, I know you think I suck for calling them those things, but it’s true. They were. All day long they fought and fought and fought. And the few seconds they weren’t fighting, they were constantly asking us for shit. Can I have a snow cone? Can I have a candy bar? Can I play on my iPad? Can I have a shark tooth necklace?
And my hubby and I were both like ennnnh, F that. We love you but you’re being jerkwads, and you don’t get jack shit when you’re being jerkwads. Seriously, I must have said the word “no” 9000 times. And it sucked. Partly because it sucks being angry and having to say no over and over and over again, but mostly because we’re on vacation and they should be soooooo grateful that they even get to come to a place like this, but instead they’re being ungrateful butt turds.
July 4th. It’s not about parades. It’s not about fireworks. It’s not about picnics or BBQs or long days at the pool or baseball games or carnivals. It’s about this. Celebrating this awesome country and all of the people that make it possible.
And it’s pretty F’ing amazing if you think about it. There was a small group of people who literally started this country. Like they woke up one morning and said heyyy, I have an idea, let’s start a country today. So they wrote the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution, and badabing badaboom, America! Just like that. I mean the biggest thing I ever started was a book club and even that was pretty much a failure because no one read any books and we just sat around guzzling wine and yapping. But these guys invented this amazing COUNTRY.
And every year what do we do to recognize it? We eat a crapload of hot dogs and stay up a little late to watch fireworks and we clap and yell thank you when the soldiers and veterans roll by in the parade. And yeah it’s fun. But it’s NOT enough.