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When Jessica Simpson titled her memoir Open Book, she really wasn’t kidding. I picked it up to learn what those TRL-and-touring days of the early aughts were really like, as one of her former tween fans, but what I got was so much more raw. And perspective-changing.
Sure, Simpson is known for her four-octave vocal range, her “Chicken of the Sea” comments that made her a reality TV icon, and her eponymous shoe and clothing brand (which is valued at $1 billion), but—as is the case with pretty much every celebrity, ever—she was dealing with so much more behind the scenes. Namely, a struggle with alcohol that threatened to tear apart her family and the constant pressure of the media (and society as a whole) obsessing over her appearance. Like many pop stars of the early 2000s, there was an expectation of inhuman-like perfection. We exhalted humans and expected them to look like AI renderings of IRL Barbies.
I wrote about America’s body image obsession with Simpson for PureWow back in 2020, relieved that our collective perspective toward the human body has (at least somewhat) relaxed in the years since. At the time, unpacking how we as a society push perfection—and in exchange, riddle ourselves with self-doubt, self-loathing and anxiety—stuck with me.
“There are so many firsts to raising kids, and parents are told to catch them all. But they don’t warn you about the lasts.”
-Jessica Simpson
But there’s another part of the book, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it aside, that has also stuck with me over the years. In fact, it’s come up in conversation with nearly every parent I know, just because it rings so true—and it isn’t until you have kids that you start to dwell on it.
“There are so many firsts to raising kids, and parents are told to catch them all,” she writes. “But they don’t warn you about the lasts. The last baby onesie. The last time you tie their shoes. The last time they think you have every answer in the world.”
Without realizing it, one day, your kid will stop saying “hold-cupper” instead of “cupholder.” It’s a milestone, and yet, now that they’re saying things the “right” way, you miss the “wrong.” Or one day, they stop making up adventures in the backyard with their imaginary friend. Or tell you they’ve outgrown the dollhouse you built and painted (and rebuilt, when the paint came loose and the roof started sloping).
Growing and changing are necessary, beautiful parts of life. But still, it’s okay to miss the stages that have passed.
That said, I’m trying to savor these moments. It’s made me a little more lenient when my daughter asks to sleep in our room, because she’s had a bad dream. Yes, yes, the experts say you shouldn’t—you need boundaries! Tuck her back in! Don’t be lazy!—but one day, this house will be empty. She’ll be off on her own, maybe even raising her own family. (Ditto for our son.) I’ll cherish this moment, sleeplessness and all. It, too, shall pass, and one day, I’ll miss it.
PS—You can find Open Book at most major bookstores, on Amazon and at many libraries. I highly recommend giving it a read.
