.SOMETIMES RAW.

In my house, Christmas Time means cuddling up on the couch with hot chocolate to watch Home Alone and Home Alone 2 on repeat. My son and I love it so much and it has become our tradition. And obviously we love Kevin. The other day my son said that he is so happy to have me as a mom and not Mrs McCallister who just forgot Kevin at home or let him take the wrong airplane. When I was his age I also thought that she is the worst mom in the world. Now, many years later, and being a mom myself, I think it is time to write a letter to Mrs McCallister to clarify a couple of things.

Dear Mrs. McCallister,

In 1990, I was about the same age as your son Kevin, and he and I were on the same wavelength—that is to say, I judged the hell out of your parenting. Poor Kevin. The youngest of an indeterminate number of kids, with an antagonistic older brother, a creepy uncle, nasty cousins picking on him in his own home… and a mother who couldn’t give him the time of day.

You said it yourself, Mrs. McCallister: “What kind of mother am I?”

What kind of mother lets her entire family bully her eight-year-old? What kind of mother makes her youngest child sleep alone in a spooky attic? What kind of mother forgets about her baby when she jets off to Paris and leaves him HOME ALONE??

I thought you were the worst mom in the world.

But decades have passed, and Kate—if I can call you Kate, since we’re peers now—I need you to know how sorry I am, because now I’m a mom, too, and I get it.

I get that you’re a working mother of several kids (how many, I’m not sure. I was never entirely clear on who all those kids belonged to).

I get the restraint it took for you to calmly send Kevin to his room after he called you a dummy and said he never wanted to see you again, because I know in moments like those, the natural maternal urge is to follow the offspring up to the third floor and toss it out the window.

I get that your husband, Peter, who is always so cool and calm, can only stay so cool and calm because he doesn’t take on any of the household responsibilities. Maybe he could find his own power cord adapter, or get his act together and pay the pizza guy, or I don’t know, just spitballing here, show some initiative in locating the eight-year-old child you BOTH forgot and left home alone. Maybe Pete could take a beat and do a better job sussing out the vibe of the suspicious “cop” casing your house before you left for vacation.

I get that, in all likelihood, you planned every detail of that vacation and got zero thanks for it.

For me, the month of December is crammed with decorating, planning, Christmas shopping, baking things in the shape of other things, putting together photos, and practising the signature “Christkind” calligraphy I developed when my son was a baby so the kid wouldn’t wonder why Christkind and I had the same handwriting. So I get that every special moment of the holiday season is a heavy burden that falls on your shoulders, and the magic of Christmas exists in your home only because you put it there with your bare hands.

So who can blame you for this one teensy weensy oversight? To your credit, you tried delegating headcount responsibility to the oldest kid (your daughter—or your niece? Again, this was never made super clear), but she messed it up. And she messed it up very confidently, which didn’t help.

You had no support. I get it, Kate. Once you realized Kevin was missing, you tried to enlist the help of the local police, but they were useless. I know they knocked on the door, and nobody answered, but isn’t that kind of a problem? They didn’t think that was even worse? Why is everyone around you so incompetent?

I get that the two days you spent in the airport, on planes, and in the back of a box truck with a polka band were probably the only moments of mental alone time you’d had in years.

I know what you’re thinking: “But then I lost Kevin again the following Christmas, and the same two bandits from the first time chased him around New York City trying to murder him.” Sshh. It’s okay.

Mom to mom, I hope you take some solace in the fact that I get it, and I promise you, we’ve all been there. Moms can’t be on top of everything all the time. Confession time: if I could legally hand my eleven-year-old my Visa card and let him watch movies and order room service on his own in a hotel for a week, I would do it. And if I found out a random pigeon lady in Central Park was looking after my kid, I’d be psyched. Free babysitting? Sign me up.

So now, because it’s Christmastime, I just want to say I’m sorry for ever judging you, Kate. You’re a hardworking mother who’s doing your best. Yes, you forgot your second grader existed until you were flying over the Atlantic Ocean. But you also raised a clever, independent, and resilient kid with a big heart, and that’s every mother’s dream.

And hey, you have a ton of kids to manage (at least three, I think?), so even if on the off chance you left one of them home on purpose, I wouldn’t blame you.

I get it.

Merry Christmas,
Daniela Henry

Also, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all my readers. Thank you so much for reading my stuff.

• You look really familiar; have I seen you somewhere before?
• I never have more than two (re:slices of cakes)
• Funny story: I actually make a really good girlfriend/boyfriend.
• That’s hilarious.
• That is so interesting.
• That is so funny.
• That’s really funny.
• I really never have more than five (re: slices of cake)
• I basically had a double major.
• I am pretty much running this place.
• I know what you mean.
• Oh year, I think I read this somewhere.
• I love this song.
• I really love this song!
• This is literally the craziest thing I have ever heard.
• I literally cannot eat any more of this.
• I gotta get up early in the morning.
• I have this thing for work…
• I am sorry I haven’t called you: things have been crazy.
• I can’t on Friday. I have things on Friday.
• Just some friends. Seeing some friends.
• You look gorgeouuuuuuuuus in this dress/suit/coat!
• Your hair looks so pretty.
• It fits you perfectly.
• I love that pink lipstick.
• I am ready in like, five minutes.
• I honestly never think about him/her anymore.
• More than ten, but fewer than twenty. (re: relationships)
• It’s a great work party- we should all go. It sounds like fun.
• No, that sounds like a lot of fun.
• You were the handsomest guy there.
• No, I am serious.
• Yeah, they seem really cool (re: work friends)
• I… I love you too.
• I have never felt like this before.
• This moment, right here, is the happiest moment of my life.
• Yes.
• Yeah.
• No.
• Definitely.
• I love them (re:earrings)
• It’s delicious (re:quiche that it too salty)
• I just feel like we get each other in a way most couples don’t.
• I also feel that way, exactly.
• I was listening.
• I didn’t even notice him.
• Just a guy I work with.
• You are reading too much into things.
• He is like a brother!
• It would just be weird.
• I have never thought of him in that way.
• Well, that’s really wonderful.
• No, I am not being passive-aggressive.
• I really think it’s wonderful.
• I don’t know what “tone” you are talking about. I am telling you it’s wonderful.
• I love your friends. You know I love your friends.
• What are you talking about? You are great at parties.
• I didn’t notice (re: weight gain)
• No, I am telling you, you look exactly the same to me.
• I told you red (re: wine)
• I definitely said red.
• I checked the weather before we left.
• I didn’t see your text until I was already on my way home.
• They want it to be just the girls, no boyfriends. I think it’s stupid, personally, but what can you do? I will tell them you said that.
• You don’t need to apologize to me.
• I think the most important thing is honesty.
• It’s fine.
• I am fine. I am great.
• Fine.
• It’s really fine. I told you it’s fine. I am fine.
• Of course, I am happy for you (re: promotion)
• I am thrilled.
• Marvellous!
• I can listen and check my emails at the same time.
• I don’t keep track of those things the way you do (re: who “won” argument)
• I trust you.
• Okay, you are right. I am not just saying that so you will shut up, do you know how degrading that is?
• She seems really nice. I like her.
• It doesn’t bother me.
• Just do whatever you want; I don’t have an opinion one way or the other.
• It was just coffee.
• I think you are overreacting.
• I am sorry.
• I had to work late.
• Why would I lie about being at work? I don’t understand you.
• I actually have no idea what you are talking about. I really don’t. Truly.
• This? Whatever this is? It’s all in your head!
• I told you already twice.
• You don’t know me at all.
• I didn’t mean it like that.
• I don’t deserve this!
• I am just thinking what’s going to be best for you!
• All I want is for you to be happy. That’s all I want.
• I think the problem is I love you too much. Could that be the problem?
• Once everything settles down at work, things will get easier with us.
• If you would just come home, we could talk about this like adults.
• That’s so mean; I do not have one foot out the door.
• Damn it, we can make this work. I want to make this work. I am dedicated to making this work.
• I actually think that fight was a really good fight for us as a couple.
• I am never going to hurt you like that again.
• I love you.
• I love you too.

Dear Applicant,

Thank you for your embarrassingly eager interest in our job opening and for getting to know us over the course of twelve rounds of interviews.

We regret to inform you that we have selected another, far more suitable candidate for the role—a starchy ten-pound sack of potatoes, straight from our local supermarket.

While we were impressed with your experience, we all agreed that your energy levels were a bit much for our taste. Your demeanor came across as eager, approachable, and ambitious, while we tend to prefer candidates who are more down-to-earth, dusty, and brooding.

It is potentially worth noting that the hiring manager has a personal attachment to potatoes due to a prized family gratin recipe. We are confident this has nothing to do with the decision.

Given our status as a fast-moving startup, we want to ensure that each new addition to the team helps us achieve our goal of increasing our revenue by 500 percent every two weeks. The sack of potatoes, covered in unsightly green sprouts, has proven it understands the importance of growth.

Although your skills align perfectly with what’s listed in the job description, you do not have specific experience in an additional secret skill that isn’t relevant at all. The potatoes do not have this experience either, but we thought we would just mention that it wasn’t a point in your favor.

Throughout this interview process, it also became clear that a sack of potatoes has certain advantages over human candidates like yourself, due to its lack of thoughts, feelings, and ability to speak up amid a vaguely toxic work environment.

Additionally, with your experience and salary expectations, we’re afraid that our compensation package might disappoint you. Our finance department’s proposed budget for this role will fall short of your desired salary range by at least 98 percent, whereas the sack of potatoes is willing to work with us, with a reasonable expectation of seven Euros per week (to feed their potato family). Consider being a little less greedy and a little more open when job hunting in the future.

For the technical interview, we asked you to complete a wildly overcomplicated strategic exercise in the space of one hour. Your performance was actually quite impressive, so we thought it would be good to steal your idea and use it ourselves. Sorry.

We also HAVE to point out the elephant in the room: You are not a potato or other starchy root vegetable. Yes, you were upfront with us about that fact before the dozen interviews, but we’ve just remembered it, and it’s actually a dealbreaker. We are not sorry.

Thanks again for interviewing. Feel free to try us again in the future, especially if you die and come back as a bag of yellow onions. If you have a chance, we’d love to hear your feedback on your interview experience so we can entirely disregard it. Please take the survey linked here. It should only take forty-seven minutes.

Warm regards,
“Human” Resources