I knew this week was going to be a crazy one.
I’m working on a new project or two. The first quarter of school is coming to a close for my kids.
And I was driving down to Miami with my daughter to go to a concert. One that she was really excited for. The Cud Life Tour with Logic, Big Sean and, of course, Kid Cudi. My kid likes the first two. We saw Big Sean last May when he came to town.
But she loves Kid Cudi. He’s been on her playlist for a while. And she really, really wanted to see him. And not just because her nickname since she was a toddler has been Little Cuddy. No, there’s something about his music that she relates to.
So that’s how I found myself sending Kid Cudi, a.k.a. Scott Mescudi, a tweet on Sunday. Telling him all of this. Or as much as I could in 140 characters.
Then he responded to it. And I was struck. To tell the truth, I freaked out and went running to my kid to show her.
This is what it said:
And now it’s the morning after the concert and what I want to say to @ducidni is too long to fit in to a tweet. So I wrote him a letter.
Hey Kid Cudi:
I had to get up this morning at 5:30, after getting home from your concert at 1:00.
So I was tired.
I was scrolling through my phone while I was making breakfast for Little Cuddy’s older brother, when I saw your tweet.
And I don’t know if it was the 4 1/2 hours of sleep I got or what but when I read it, I started to cry. In a good way.
Because when we left the American Airlines Arena last night, to make the hour and a half drive home, Little Cuddy turned to me and said, “This was the best day of my life.”
The. Best. Day. Of. Her. Life.
She’s 14. So, you know, a teenaged girl.
For her to say that means a lot.
And then I got, “Thanks Mom. You’re the best. I love you.”
Yep. I got that. She should be at the height of the whole “I hate you mom” thing. And “I don’t want to be seen in public with you” thing.
She even took a picture of us and posted it on Instagram. For ALL of her friends to see. She’s never posted a picture of me on her Instagram account. I’m not even allowed to “like” a picture on her account.
But here we are, laughing in the bathroom together right before you took the stage.
And I have to tell you something. I had so much fun at your concert.
I loved the way you talked to the audience. The way you voiced your appreciation. Your realness. You have this kind, caring way about you. It shows.
And your music. Your music got everybody up out of their seats. Your voice, your energy too.
Your happy dance. (So cute.)
Yes, of course, there was weed there. I know. I may be 47 but I was younger once. Pot’s part of the culture. I’m okay with that. It opens up the conversation between me and her about drugs. And that’s a good thing.
I also know that some of your lyrics are inappropriate for her. But again, it leads to stuff that we can talk about.
You made her cry when you sang “Soundtrack 2 My Life”. I’d heard the song before and was particularly struck by these lyrics:
I’ve got some issues that nobody can see
And all of these emotions are pouring out of me
I bring them to the light for you
It’s only right
This is the soundtrack to my life, the soundtrack to my life
I think a lot of people, particularly teens, can relate to those words. Pretty powerful words.
So, I just dropped my kid off at school. I let her sleep in and miss her first class. She’s a straight A student. So no worries.
And I’m heading off to work but I just wanted to let you know you have a fan for life. My kid can’t wait to see you again. Neither can I.
Thanks for being you.
Stay in touch.
Your new friend,