For years there have been battles between the helicopter mom and the free range parent. The co-sleeper and the cry-it-out devotee. But through it all, there’s one thing almost every mom can agree on.
The appeal of one Mr. Justin Timberlake.
That’s why I’m recruiting all moms in the metropolitan area for a special joint mission – to get Justin Timberlake and Jay-Z to divert their stadium tour to St. Louis this summer. We have a long, hard road ahead of us – recently the duo announced the twelve dates for their tour, and St. Louis is nowhere on the list.
We work hard all day, we sacrifice and struggle – it’s about time we’re rewarded with two straight hours of Justin Timberlake on a St. Louis stage, preferably shirtless.
Even more important, we owe it to our children. Anytime I mention “Justin,” to my daughter, her immediate response is “Justin Bieber,” to which I silently weep. Do we really want our daughters growing up in a world where the number one Justin is a doll-faced 19-year-old who has yet to grow chest hair?
It’s us moms who have been there for JT every step of the way since N’Sync debuted in 1995. We’ve been by his side through the highs and lows. For every “D*** in a Box,” The Social Network and “Cry Me a River” moment, there’s been Yogi Bear and the Britney Spears matching denim horror of 2001. We made it through the cornrows and boy band overalls, and our prize has been “Senorita” crooned by a manly man in a skinny suit and grown-up beard.
The past few weeks have been filled with joy as “Suit & Tie” hit the airwaves and we were treated to his swoon-worthy Grammy performance. (Me: “Justin’s going to be on the Grammys tonight!” MJ: “Justin Bieber?” Me: “No, for the thousandth time, Justin Timberlake. Timberlake!!” Mr. P: “You know she’s six, right?’) And seven long years of waiting, we’ll finally get our greedy little hands on JT’s third studio album on March 19. Even more exciting, he’ll host Saturday Night Live on March 9 and become Jimmy Fallon’s sidekick for five glorious nights starting March 11.
For JT, I would even break my no-stadium-concert rule. I’ve always loved concerts, but now that I’m old, it’s no longer fun to sit a million miles from the stage in a seat that’s mysteriously shrunk since I was 25. Not to mention the hipsters make fun of you when you bring your hemorrhoid pillow to The Black Keys concert so you can handle the rock-hard chairs for two hours. I prefer my concert going as if I lived on the Axiom starliner from WALL-E – I want a cushy chair to sit in and giant drinks brought before me. But for JT, I would tolerate Smurfs-sized stadium seats and $10 beer lines for just one minute of “What Goes Around…Comes Around.”
Now that JT has been named “cultural curator” for Bud Light Platinum, he has a direct connection to St. Louis. I mean, really, in a town this size, each one of us is probably just two degrees separated from him. Ask around at your playdates or church small groups – someone has to have a connection at InBev who could get us a meeting with JT at Ted Drewes. Just one hour with us and a Fox Treat concrete and he’ll immediately scratch Vancouver or Hershey, Pa. as stops on his tour list and replace them with St. Louis. You owe your Bud Light constituents this, sir!
As moms, we can make miracles happen. We squeeze actual human beings out of our lady parts. We braid hair and change diapers at the same time. We bring home the bacon and fry it up in the pan – or, let’s be realistic, zap the microwavable bacon. Surely, we can use our feminine wiles and motherly negotiating skills to get two platinum-selling superstars to bring “Sexy Back” to St. Louis.
Now, who’s with me?