An Open Letter to Celebrities Who Write Children's Books

I'm jumping on the open letter bandwagon.

If I read EJ one more book written by an actor/singer/athlete turned children's author (they were all gifts!), I am going to lose it.  I mean, c'mon. What's next...move over Goodnight Moon because Kim Kardashian has written an inspirational tale about North West overcoming diarrhea?  It's all too much.  There is even a section on Amazon.com entitled, "Children's Book's Written by Celebrities." Really, Leanne Rimes and Terrell Owens?


Dear Celebrity Children's Book Author,

You are already a famous, notable/notorious, wealthy person.  Why must you add "children's author" to your IMDB resume? I'm not saying you can't write AT ALL....memoir it away...but please stay out of the children's section of Barnes and Noble. 

My plea comes on two fronts. The first is personal.  You see, at parties, when I introduce myself as a teacher and people look away or roll their eyes, I quickly add in the fact that I hope to write books for children one day.  That at least extends their interest and the conversation for a good minute, until I'm asked what I'd like to write about and I shrug my shoulders and say, "dunno yet."  The key word is YET, celebrity...a brilliant idea is buried somewhere in my brain, and if you have your ghost writer keep typing away and cranking out more kids' books, who's even going to listen to my story pitch one day...down the road...in the distant future?  I beg you, stick to your real craft and stop wading in my dream pool.  

My second plea comes on a parental front.  I've had to accept your voice infiltrating every animated film my son watches--I don't need to see your name engraved on the spine of a book about brushing teeth.  Normal people can fashion a children's tale about teeth-brushing just fine, thank you very much. Madonna, I will give you a nod for Mr. Peabody's Apples, but other than that, most books written by celebrities are the pits. I don't need to read EJ a pointless snoozer from you, Jaime Lee Curtis; I already eat your probiotic yogurt.  

In closing, please stop being greedy.  You are already everywhere...the small and big screens, magazines, billboards, clothing sections of department stores (really, Adam Levine at Kmart?), etc.  Stay off of our children's bookshelves and let some hardworking, everyday authors have the spotlight. Thank you.

Enough

Enough: to a degree that is not very high or very low; to a reasonable extent.

I'm not using this word correctly.

In moments of quiet retrospect, when I'm bombarding my mind with questions or statements, I certainly don't think of enough as reasonable.  To me, it means A LOT....the extreme even.  Am I smart enough?  I'm not reading enough. I'm not wealthy enough.  Do I have enough friends?  Is my wardrobe stylish enough?  Am I thin enough? I didn't work out enough this week. Am I doing enough?  I haven't traveled enough.  I'm not cooking enough. Am I fun enough?  Is my relationship exciting enough? And so on.  

Now that I'm a parent, I am putting my enoughs onto EJ.  Does he say enough?  Is his diet varied enough? Is he doing enough? Does he have enough friends?  Does he imagine enough?  Does he play nicely enough? He doesn't sleep enough.  He didn't eat enough.  Did he have enough fun today?  He doesn't help pick up his toys enough.

If I were to answer yes to all of my enough questions, I guess I would be an underweight, perfectly coiffed, War and Peace reading, philanthropic, decathlon participating, Hermes bag-toting woman who hosts parties every weekend.  Oh, and my son would be a verbose, articulate, early-enrollment Mensa member (is that a thing?), with a full social schedule and a steady of diet of the newest "it" vegetables and grains (hemp, swiss chard, and bulgur?), who cleans his room, sleeps twelve hours a night, and never gets upset....all at age 2.

I don't know where I got my version of enough from. My enough life sounds like the bad Bravo reality shows, which I swear I've stopped watching...mostly.  Anyways, that imagined life is cliche, ridiculous, and most importantly, unattainable.  It's keeping up with the Joneses gone mad wrong. Too much not enoughs can wreak havoc on you, and make great days only good, good days only okay, and bad days horrific.  Not worth it, my friend.

Tonight, EJ was throwing a tantrum because I wouldn't let him eat something out of the garbage.  I was tired, frustrated, and mentally running through all of the things I didn't get done today for him and for myself.  The not enough record started playing in my head.  It all felt pretty tragic.  Just then EJ ran out of the kitchen, ripped off his diaper, and started running around the living room like a maniac, literally going balls to the wall and having a blast.  I couldn't help but laugh and admire his physical metaphor.  How profound. Leaving your diaper behind and going all out is enough.  Or, just showing up and muddling through your day is enough. Enough is whatever you want it to be in any moment. I am enough. EJ is enough.You are enough.

EJ's Name Game

What would you do?

You are five months pregnant. Your husband has cheated on you and you are getting divorced.  He has moved across the country and you don't know if he'll ever be back.  You are more than a little hurt/pissed/shocked, and all of the baby names the two of you liked are now out of the question. Oh, and you've just found out you're having a boy.

Your sister calls and suggests the name Ethan.  You don't immediately hate it, and upon further review, it means "enduring" and "strong"...two words you've had to embrace.  Perfect. Done. Lovely. He'll be Ethan.

Now for the middle name.  You want to honor the afore-mentioned sister (an E herself) and match Ethan's middle initial to her's...J.  No J's pop out at you immediately.  This is tiring.  Jorge, Jim, John, Jerry...nothing fits.  Hold it.  You are Irish.  You've taken shots before.  Jameson.  Sounds a little snazzy/preppy, and even though you don't love whiskey, you can't name him Jagermeister.  So that's that. He's EJ.

Uh oh.  Last name.  You know you are ditching your married name ASAP, and it's hard for you to even say it out loud at the moment.  You have other things on your plate, so you block it from your mind for a few months. As your divorce proceedings ebb and flow, moments of calm and anger dictate solutions to the last name conundrum.  You've found out that you can actually name your son anything you want, and when you are pissed or hurt eccentric names flow freely.  Cute E. Pie. Aquaman. A symbol ala Prince circa 1993. When you are calm, you plan to stick with the status quo and use your married name. After all, you are a rule-follower and kids usually take their father's name.

Then it's time to give birth.  You haven't really heard from your husband in months, save for a last-minute email asking if you want him to be in the room for the birth.  No thanks.  You've already assembled a crack-team of birth coaches who are all piled in the room singing your praises and whispering words of encouragement. It's like Lilith Fair...not at dude in sight, except for the one you're all trying to coax out. Then he comes.  He is 7 lbs. 11 oz. and a real person.  An instantaneous  true love.  He's EJ.  You snuggle and cuddle and cry...partially from joy and partially from fear that you have no idea what you're doing and the hospital will only offer babysitting services for the next two days.

You wake up the next morning and it's crunch time.  The official people need to know his official name.  A woman walks in with an offical-looking clipboard.  "Can you please give me your son's full name?"  EJ. "And his last name?" Ummmm.  "Well, is his father in the picture?"  Not right now.  "Do you know the father?" Yes....I stopped turning tricks years ago (awkward silence).  "You know what, why don't I come back in an hour?"  Yes, please, that will be great (I don't like you, official lady!).

Just then, a nurse wheels EJ in from the babysitting room.  He is wrapped up and you swear he makes a cooing noise as you snuggle him into your chest.  For the first time in this name game, you think about him as a boy and then a man whose name and legacy are important and will far outlive you and the memory of this petty divorce.  It's not time for bitterness.  He was a planned baby, and even though your marriage is over, you have to honor it for his sake. Whoa, Whoa...hold on though...you just pushed this baby out of your body all on your own! You'll be doing everything for this little nugget, and then one day you'll have to hear him ask you why you have a different last name?  No, no, no, nu uh, no. Back to square one.  But wait, you majored in journalism.  You know a little bit about words and stuff.  Eureka! The hypen.  EJK-M. Everyone wins. 

The official lady comes back in.  You find your words again and spell out his full name.  "Boy, that's long." Yes, and it's wonderful.  

EJ's name is long and wonderful and slightly ridiculous-cool and one day, EJ can decide to keep, shorten, or change it.  At least then it will be his choice.  He deserves that.