Haha! I Win; A Zombie-Fanatic Is Born

   I've been attempting to convince my daughter that the love of all things zombie is only natural. For a long time this was a downhill battle. She just wasn't interested. She wasn't interested in Resident Evil, she wasn't interested in any of the old zombie movie classics, she didn't care about the Walking Dead (and still doesn't, what the hell?)
   But I wore her down, and finally, I was able to convince her to read this book called The Forest of Hands and Teeth, by Carrie Ryan. Now, this book was enough to convince her that she might actually like some of the zombie stuff that her mom was trying to force down her throat. This book didn't turn her into a full blown zombie-lover, but this book did open the door. And yeah, it's in the young adult section, but this isn't some love story that makes zombies seem sexy. Zombies were the undead, and they did eat people and infect the masses.
   Then I found this wonderful book that I really got into. I loved this book. I bet many of you can guess the name, but for those of you ignorant in all things zombie, the book was called World War Z, by Max Brooks. I couldn't put this book down, despite the fact that I don't think that this book is the easiest book to read. You don't follow a main character; this book takes the form of a multitude of interviews, never with the same person, and through these interviews, you see how the shape of the zombie war unfolded. As soon as you get into one person's story, that story ends and you move on to the next person. This book should have been annoying as hell to read, but it wasn't, and I read the damn thing in one night.
    My daughter has made the comment to me that I always chose the best books for her to read; a fact that does make me pretty happy. I like being able to provide people with suggestions of good reading material, and I am always really glad when they like a suggestion. Yay! I don't know why I like this; I just do. We all have our little quirks. And I guess my daughter decided that since I had always given her good books to read, that she wanted to read the book that I got so into that I spent a whole night reading the book. So she read the book, and she liked it! I was surprised, because I actually do think that this book has the potential to be hard to follow, and though my daughter reads on a high level, according to school testing, I didn't know how she would like or be able to follow this book. But she read the book, she was able to follow the story line, and best of all, she really liked it.
   She liked the book so much, that when they came out with the movie, she begged to be able to go see it. Now, I know that this movie was rated PG-13, but I carefully read the previews, and I had decided that if the movie just got too graphic for her, that  I would be prepared to usher her out of the theater. She really wanted to see the movie, and after letting her read the book, it seemed asinine to refuse to let her watch the movie. But not only did I worry about the violence, I also worried about the quality of the story. Obviously, this movie was going to follow Brad Pitt's character throughout the whole of the movie, and I worried that they were going to take this really good zombie story and turn it into a Brad Pitt flick. But we went to see the movie on the 4th of July, and I thought the movie was really good, and I also thought that the story could have fit right into the book. The book is basically a collection of survival stories from different people, and not the whole of the stories, just the critical moments. This movie followed that structure, in my own opinion. This was the key part of this man's survival of the zombie war, and when his part was over, the story ended. I've heard complaints over the abrupt ending, but the book is full of abrupt endings. I liked the movie, and so did my daughter!
   Woo-hoo! The first zombie movie that my daughter has liked. Also, the first zombie movie that my daughter has ever really watched, due to lack of interest. But she liked this one, and if they make another, she has already informed me that she wants to go see that one too. This, I tell myself, is the birth of a zombie fanatic.

   (Side note: I also got my mom to go see the movie. Which was a mind-blowing achievement for two reasons: she doesn't like anything scary or gory, and she hates Brad Pitt almost as much as she hates Tom Cruise. I now consider myself a master-manipulator. Mwahahahahahahaha!)

Dear Customer; All The Things That I Wish I Could Have Said

Dear Customer,
   You might not realize this, but when I came in to work today there were not many people shopping and work was slow. But in a grocery store, there are always things to be done, and so when they asked me to help with go-backs, I willingly turned my register light off. In case you don't know, go-backs are all the items that customers decided they didn't want and gave to the cashier or stuck on some random shelf. Someone has to put them away, and they needed some help back there because of the holiday rush. Of course I agreed, better than standing at the register and twiddling my thumbs.
   I realize that when they called me up to check that we had gotten slammed. So I didn't dither; I came as fast as I could, and I took the next person in line from the register next to the one I was assigned to. See, where I work, we don't make the announcement that so-and-so register is open. I've worked in stores that did this, and what usually happens is that the person refusing to stand in line and prowling around for a new register gets in line first, so what we do is we go take a person directly from a line. This person has been waiting in line, and deserves the chance to be next. According to store policy, this is what we are supposed to do. Of course, one cashier cannot take every next person first; we are only human after all and are not capable of cloning ourselves and running multiple registers.
   I had taken the next lady in line, as I said, and had rung her up and sent her on her way and moved on to my next customer when you came up and said, "Excuse me, ma'am, can I ask you something?"
   You were so polite, and I turned to you with a smile and a, "Sure," expecting to need to direct you to whatever item you were looking for. So you can imagine my shock when you went from polite to rude and condescending. I wasn't expecting you to condemn me for not announcing a lane opening over the intercom, and I surely wasn't expecting to be queried about whether or not I knew how to do my job and if I was new to the store. Since I am female, I can go from happy to pissed faster than the speed of light, and this happened. In fact,  I was seeing red, but I was proud of the way I kept my cool and kept the smile on my face. I explained our policy to you, and explained that I had taken the next in line on a different register for the simple fact that this register was the closest to mine, so taking from that line made the most sense as all the lines were long.
   The thing is, I could see the disappointment on your face, and while I do not have psychic abilities, I do believe that you were hoping for a stammered apology from a flustered cashier or outright defiance so that you could get management involved. My calm, collected explanation gave you no opportunity to feel superior to me. My smile and friendly manner gave you no opportunity to become indignant and feel justified in your anger. You came over not to correct what you saw as a wrong, but to bully and make someone just doing their job feel small. And I feel justified in this belief, because I heard you call me a bitch as you walked away.
   But while you did make me angry, because I do get angry whenever I see someone trying to make themselves feel better by making others feel bad, you did not make me feel bad. I know my job; I know my store's policies, and I know that I did nothing to justify such rude, disrespectful behavior. And in the long run, I am glad you came to me with that bullshit, because we do have some shy wallflowers working the registers for us; some young girls who have not yet grown the thick skin that they need to function in the role of a person who works customer service in retail. I am glad you did not go to one of them; all we need is another cashier crying in the bathroom because someone was mean to them. Poor girls, they'll harden up soon, but I've already gotten there, so as  I said, I am glad that you came and blasted me and not one of them.
   And I want you to know that I also feel sorry for you. Yes, you read that right. I feel sorry for you because I just can't imagine what you are going through that makes you able to derive comfort and/or pleasure from trying to pick on an honest person just doing their job; from trying to make them feel small and insignificant. I hope that whatever is wrong, you feel better soon. Me, I already feel better, so don't worry about that at all. I have a loving family waiting at home, I have the best friends in the world, and I work with the greatest people. My life is awesome. I hope yours gets better soon.

Sincerely,
The Cashier You Tried To Pick On

Fireworks (AKA Pyromaniacs)

   The 4th of July has always been a big holiday for me. I love this holiday; and not just because I love my country, although I do. I am (cliche coming) proud to be an American. Our country does have some issues, and there are some major clowns in the Government right now, but I can say that, post that opinion on a public blog, and face no repercussions. No people at my door, no censorship, nothing, because I have rights and can exercise my freedom of speech. And (God forbid) if I lost my job tomorrow, there are safety net programs in place that will help prevent my child and I from facing starvation and homelessness. Yes, those programs are flawed, but they are there. Many countries don't have them at all, flawed or otherwise, and in many countries, I would not have the options that I do here. So yes, I love my country, flaws and all. Flaws only mean that we have some work to do.
   But I digress, because love of my country is not the only reason that I love the 4th of July, the celebration of our country's independence. I love the 4th of July because of my dad. You see, my dad is a pyromaniac (not really, not really, jk in facebook speech), and every year while I was growing up, my dad would take us to these huge firework stands. We didn't get those prepackaged deals in the grocery stores, we went out to big tent stands, were they had every kind of firework that you could think of. We would browse the selection, and we would of course buy black cats and sparklers and bottle rockets, but we would buy the big fancy things as well. Those firework tent guys had to love seeing my dad. He spent BIG money on the 4th.
   On the actual 4th, during the day, we would set off the bottle rockets. This scared the beejeebies out of my mom, and as a mom myself now, I understand, but as a kid: we ignored her. And the reason that this scared the beejeebies out of my mom was because my dad and I; we did things that you aren't supposed to do. We would twist as many of those bottle rocket fuses together as we could, and light them and run. That was his number one rule: light them and run. And we would see how many we could twist together, and each time we managed to get all of them to go off at once, we would try for more next time. Always bigger with us. (DON'T DO THIS!!!) And then when the day wore on, we would start preparing for a huge bonfire. Every 4th we had a bonfire and we would do things like roast hot dogs and marshmallows and we would invite extended family and friends and everyone would eat and drink and wait for the dark.
   But my dad and I never waited for the dark to have fun. We were always good for a prank, and the one that stands out in my memory of our 4th of July celebrations was the time he had me sidle up to fire and throw in an entire pack of Black Cat fireworks while everyone stood there talking (DON'T EVER DO THIS!!!) Hehehehehehe; this was great and my dad and I; we were not nice.
    And when the night was finally dark enough, we would light the big ones. We had whistlers and roman candles and things that I don't even have names for, and we could do them all at our place, because my dad has five acres of land and we lived in the country before the divorce and the country doesn't have all the no firework rules that apartment complexes do. So I have really great memories from 4th of July, and for some reason (God) we never killed ourselves or blew off a hand, or killed anyone else.
   Being that I am a city-dweller now, and live in an apartment myself, we can't do fireworks ourselves. My daughter wouldn't like to actually set them off anyway; I have mentioned that she has a totally different personality from me, and pyromania is not one of the personality traits that we share. But I do make a big deal of the 4th. We do spend the time together as a family, and we go to watch the firework shows that the parks put on. She does enjoy that, and frankly, I am too much of a worry-wart, helicopter mom to let her do any of the crap that I did. Twist fuses together and light them? I don't think so: not my baby. 

What Exactly Is Wrong With Teaching Your Child Right From Wrong?

   Discipline; the way people act you would think that this word is the worst cuss word in the English vocabulary. Even worse than saying this word is acting on this word. That's a crime, apparently. Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but I guess I am guilty. I know that some of you are not, but if my child misbehaves, there are going to be some consequences.
   Oh, I know all of the arguments. Self-esteem issues, development, they'll learn to behave negatively, and all I can say is this: I call bullshit. My argument is this: we are supposed to be preparing these kids for real life; the real world. We are supposed to be teaching these kids how to act in social situations, and how to succeed in life. And in life, there are consequences to actions. In the adult world, bad behavior is not ignored. In real life, not knowing how to properly interact with your contemporaries can cost you friends, relationships, and even career opportunities. Think that Little Johnny not getting his homework done is no big deal? What happens when you procrastinate on the job, and don't get a task done on time? Maybe you won't be fired, depending on exactly what the task was, but maybe you will. Certainly, when the time comes for promotion, that promotion is going to go to the person who does get the job done. That is a consequence. Think that Little Suzie picking on kids in the playground is just high spirits, just her being misunderstood? She does that at work, she's gonna get slapped with a lawsuit at best. Another consequence.
   Since all these kids are going to grow up to face all these consequences, what exactly is wrong with instilling that knowledge in them from the start? No one is talking about taking a belt and beating them bloody -- that's child abuse, and contrary to popular belief, there is a difference between child abuse and discipline. My daughter once didn't get her homework done on time, and I did find out. She was grounded for a week; no TV, no games, for a week. Because she had lied to me for a week and not done her homework. She wasn't emotionally scarred by that. She didn't doubt that I loved her. What happened was that she learned a valuable lesson about what happens when you do not do your job, and her job is school. Think that this doesn't mirror real life? If she was an adult, and she had not done her job for a week, she would have probably lost that job. Losing a job means losing income. Losing income means that you loose the privileges that you bought with that income. She learned that lesson now, as a child, when all she lost was a week's worth of TV and game playing. Small losses. And she has not done something like that since. She learned her lesson. And yes, sometimes kids need a few repeat to learn a lesson, some parents are going to have a harder time. But I have always been firm with my daughter. She knows that I will listen to her side of a story, her excuses, but if they are not reasonable, she gets punished.
   This is parenting. Parenting is hard. Parenting is not always family bonding time, or learning fun things, or hugs and kisses. Yes, those are important parts of parenting, but parenting can really suck sometimes too. Do you really think that I enjoyed that week that I took away her TV and her games? She was good about her punishment, I have to say; I was proud. She didn't whine or try to get out of it or beg for an early release. She did her time and paid her dues. But I felt like shit. I felt like the meanest damn mom in the whole world. But I want her to go into this world with a knowledge of how things are going to work. I was her to have the knowledge and experience that she needs to make good choices and get ahead. Discipline is a part of that; a large part. So next time you think that letting your kid's bad behavior slide, you might want to think again. I'm not saying crack the whip all the time, kids will be kids, but your kid also needs to learn that they are not always going to get away with behaving like demon spawn. 

You Think Being A Working Mom Is Easy? Where Did You Leave Your Brain?

    I have written about how I don't think moms should judge each other based on their stay home or working status. I think comparing difficulties in those situations is rather like comparing apples and oranges. I was a stay-at-home mom with my daughter until she was two, then worked for a year, and then quit and was a stay-at-home mom until she started kindergarten, so having been in both roles, I say that in my own experience, the stresses and problems you deal with are totally different and equally hard. I respect both, and just because I am a working mom, that does not mean that I look down on stay-at-home moms. I don't.
   That being said, I am not taking bullshit comments about how much easier being a working mom is, which is what fired up this response: someone has said it. And I am - in the most public way that I have available to me - I am calling bullshit. Being a working mom is not easy. I get to talk to people outside the home? I get more adult interaction? Fine. You know what I also get? I get to miss important milestones because I was gone, earning the money needed to keep a roof over my kid's head. I missed the last school open house because my request for time off was not granted. Know what else I miss? The assurance that my kid is being treated well. My daughter was in daycare, and she was badly mistreated by one of the workers. Having gone through that, do you think that this is ever NOT on my mind when I am not with her? Even when she is with family, whom I trust explicitly, they are not me. Do you know how hard that is? And not just for 'date night' but five days a week. I miss a lot. And when my daughter was younger, she told me that she wouldn't mind if I got fired because I would be home more. Do you think that my heart didn't break into a million pieces? So here you have just one of the hardships of being a working mom: the worry and the guilt of being out of the house so often.
   I don't have to depend on someone else for money? Well, I suffered from economical abuse, so I do understand that. Having to ask for money sucks. Not feeling like you contribute financially makes you feel small at times, so I do get that. Making money is one of the perks of working. But my money isn't extra. Some working moms work for the extra income,  but my my income is the ONLY income. If I don't work, no food, no apartment, no school clothes, and so-on and so-forth. But I don't have to ask some tightwad jerk, and I am assuming that if this is one of your arguments then you are with a tightwad jerk. I don't get this one from the women who are allowed access to the funds, some of you have good guys. So, we will say perk. The con? I've had a rotten day, people have been rude, the debit was down for two hours, someone cussed me out in English, someone else cussed me out in Spanish, someone else cussed me out in Russian, and I am exhausted, but I still have to go home and cook dinner. But the stove handle falls off the stove, so first I have to get out my handy-man tools and screw that thing back on. Again. I don't get to come home and put my feet up. My daughter has a cold, I have to make sure she gets her medicine, laundry has been waiting for me the last three days and I am getting to the point where putting that chore off is not going to be an option unless we want to run around naked, and something is clogging the toilet again, so I need to put that plumbing hat on. Days off? Those are chore days. Catch up on the house work days. Take daughter to appointment days. My motherhood duties do not get suspended because I work.
    And while I do not have to listen to all the soap opera and bonbon jokes, which is total bullshit, and I know that, I do have to listen to the 'good mother's stay home with the kids' cracks. Apparently, women like me are destroying the family structure. Because I deserve all the blame for America's divorce rate. Staying with an abusive, shiftless jerk who was sucking the life from me was the better option, how could I have not seen that? If I would have just let him finish convincing me that I was the lowest form of life on the planet, no one would ever get divorced again. Men and women wouldn't cheat on each other, no one would suffer partner abuse ever again, kids would always have two parents and neither of those parents would ever hurt them, and diamonds would fall out of all of our mouths when we spoke, and rainbows would burst from our asses when we shit. Everything would be sunshine and roses.
    I do not try to put my issues above anyone's; many of my closest friends are stay-at-home moms, and they have stress just as much as I do and they have just as many problems. I am not writing this to say that being a working mom is harder. I am not writing this to make my life seem like it sucks, because my life does not suck. I'm writing this to say that sometimes people suck, I hate judgmental assholes, and if you don't like my life fine, but ignore me, don't get in my face and try to convince me that I am taking the easy way out. If you think that, you don't know me, and you don't know the things I have been though, and you don't understand where I am trying to go. And if you are the type of person who is just going to pass judgement without an attempt at gaining some understanding and new perspective, then you are not the type of person that I want to know me. So let's just agree to leave each other alone.