I'll be reading Growing Up with Tamales for story time at Blue Willow Bookshop, in Houston, on Thursday morning, May 15. Tell everyone you know with kids in the Houston area. How do you find and support local indie book stores like Blue Willow? By going to Booksense.
On Saturday, May 17, I'll be in Dallas, reading and signing at the J. Erik Jonsson Central Library, for the 13th Dallas Children’s Book Fair & Literary Festival.
On June 22, here in Houston, I'm going to do a poetry workshop. It's free and open to the public, y'all, and they're having one every Sunday in June, taught by local poets I love and respect. So come on down.
Monday, December 17, 2007
How is it Monday already?I have a long to-do list in my purse. Its primary purpose is as a focal point -- it gives me something to look at while I say, "How in the hell am I going to get everything done?"
My tooth hurts but I don't want to tell my dentist yet, because his wife just had a baby, so I don't want to give him bad news while he's still functioning on a half-tank of sleep. It's bad news because my teeth have become notoriously difficult to work on. I used to be the kind of person who wasn't afraid of dental appointments. Now I kind of dread them. It's a race for time -- catching and saving each tooth before it rots out of my head. I keep saying "Just give me full dentures now," but he won't. We are in the middle of excavating the left side of my mouth. I'm so used to blood and gore and drilling and needles now, it almost doesn't bother me anymore. Almost. I used to have nightmares about my teeth falling out. Now I think that would be a happy dream -- all my teeth picking up and leaving, just leaving me alone.
Oops. I didn't mean to talk about my teeth for so long. Oh well. Don't read that part.
We managed to have some good times over the weekend, though. Don't think it's all bad and I'm just going to complain at you. We went to the movies and cleaned our house and killed silverfish as a family, again. We all yelled at each other to stop being so effing negative. We opened the kids' Christmas gift last week (Guitar Hero III) and unlocked every song with our family-style fake-guitar-playing prowess. (I realized that I'm meant to be a bass player, not a lead guitarist. And that's just fine with me.) I told the kids that when I get my next book advance check, we're going to buy an XBox 360 and the Rock Band game. And then we will take over the world. I'm designing our band's logo right now, so we can stencil it on the bass drum. We don't have a band name yet, though. We toured Guitar Hero under the name Frostbight, but that was just for practice. Of course we will need something better than that for the XBox 360 stadium tour. The Partridge Family is already taken, and The Zepeda Family doesn't have the same ring. I don't know. I'll get back to y'all on that one.
leaves
The other day I gathered leaves from the cemetary by my work. I had to make up a practical excuse, so I said I would use them in a collage. I have two 16" x 20" canvases at home that I've painted very red. I said I'd put the leaves on those canvases, instead of painting yellow and orange gourds on them, like I'd planned. The leaves we gathered were burnt umber, gold, light olive, and a little bit of cinnabar red. My boyfriend didn't gather any, he just observed and checked my picks for insects. We walked around the graves, because I don't like stepping on the dead people. It makes me extremely uncomfortable to do so, because I suspect that they don't like it, either. But there were a lot of leaves on the edges of the plots, so everybody stayed tranquil. And I noted, for the zillionth time in my life, how very beautiful birch trees can be. Or maybe it isn't a birch, the one I always look at. It has white bark now and colorful leaves, but it also drops those balls that you step on to smash and unlock the downy, densely packed seeds. You know which ones I mean? The seed balls that look kind of like big, acorn-brown cherries? That's not a birch tree, is it? Or is it? I don't know, but I love that tree.
So I put the leaves in a plastic bag that I had in a desk drawer, and I took them home, and I hope they're not moldy now. Because I haven't had time to make the collage yet, of course. But, in the meantime, I've been thinking that I need to repaint the red canvases and make them blue like the sky, plus gray/white like the tree bark. Then I'll put on the leaves. Then the collages will clash with the colors of my living room. But that's okay. I'm okay with that. If they don't look right, I just won't put them in the living room. I do still want to make them, though.
I said I was going to make a bunch of gifts for Christmas. Made gifts only. But then I realized that I don't have a lot of people to trade gifts with (thank godfully, sigh, ha), and the ones I do trade with, I'm now worried that they won't like the gifts I have in mind to make. But really, what does it matter? How could they like it less than a plastic thing from Wal-Mart? And I've had this argument with myself, in my mind, 9,000 times now over the last 35 Christmases of my life. So I'll stop now. Move forward!
Here's some stuff about parenting teens now. (I wrote a subtitle about venting. Then I vented all this stuff, then realized it was mostly about parenting teenagers. So I came back here and changed the subtitle. Ta da.)
My children (oldest child, mostly) have finally reached the age where they've realized that I'm incredibly ignorant and have no business trying to raise them or even running my own household. And I'm supposed to argue my case -- prove that I am the smartest one, and therefore they have to listen to me and do what I say, always no matter what. Right? I mean, isn't that what you think, when you don't have kids or when your kids are still too young to question your authority?
You say, "I'm not going to let my kid talk to me like that. I will slap my kid across the mouth, and then she will know that I'm the boss."
Or whatever. You say all this stuff to yourself and your friends, about how awesome and fear-inspiring you're going to be, and how your children will be meek subjects who keep their noses clean and still get good grades. You see older parents at the mall with their teenagers, and their teenagers say, "No, Mom, that's stupid!" and you think back to the one time your mom finally lost her temper with you and slapped you across the mouth, or took away your Atari. Or the one time you eavesdropped and overheard someone tell your mom that you were a spoiled fucking brat, and your mom maybe reluctantly agreed, but still defended you because she loved you...
And you bleep over those painful memories and retroactively remove all the spoiled brattery from your own past, and raise your standards for the youth of today and for their parents. And you say... you say...
Whatever. It doesn't matter what you say, or what you said. Because you grow up and your kids grow up. And then they talk back to you, because they're smart and you're dumb, or because they're spoiled and you love them. And sometimes you do get mad, but sometimes you just let them, because you know by now that's what has to happen. Let the kids talk back sometimes. That's what they're supposed to do. Give them their chance. Maybe they really are smarter than you. You hope they are, anyway.
I say, "You're free to disagree with me or express your anger, but you need to do it respectfully. I gave birth to you, and for that alone, you need to respect me. Because, hello, that shit hurt. Y'all were big babies."
It used to upset me when they got angry. But now I'm okay with it. That's their job -- to be little fireballs of anger. Teenagers have to burn off a certain amount of anger, or else they won't grow, right? Anger is the byproduct of adolescence's chemical reactions, right? Seems that way. I kind of enjoy it now, seeing my oldest son get so pissed off. Even when he's mad at me. You go, little boy, I think. (Big boy. Little giant man, actually.) You get mad. It's your time to get angry now. I'm so proud of you for growing!
I listen to my kids argue and complain, and they're now reaching the hardest issues -- the ones it seems like I've only recently overcome, myself.
The first issue is boundaries/control/what you can expect from the people you love. "I helped you level-up your orc but you never help me level-up my druid," in their minds, sometimes equals "You don't love me. I love you too much. You aren't living up to your contract as my brother/friend/guild member." And I have to talk to them about what we owe each other versus what we do for each other out of love, and I try to teach them to set their own boundaries and take care of themselves. And I have to make sure I'm practicing what I preach in my own relationships. Do they see me treat my boyfriend, my friends, my family, the way I tell them to treat each other?
The second issue is wanting approval from others, and caring what others think, and meeting social contracts. One of my kids is so concerned with what his classmates think of him, it stresses him out all night and all weekend. And that one is so hard, because I remember the pain of worrying about that, but I don't remember what finally made me snap out of it. (Time? Exhaustion?) So I just repeat to him what my family said to me, and of course it works just as well, which is not at all. And then he trips me up with logic. He says, "You said I shouldn't worry about what other people think. Then how come I can't wear shorts and flip flops to the party? I don't care if people don't like it."
And y'all know how that goes. Y'all remember, either because your own kids have done it to you, or because you did it to your parents. Right?
I feel like I have to hurry and mature faster, myself. I have to stay several steps ahead of my kids, in terms of maturation and personal development, or else I'll become worthless to them. So I'm doing it. I'm growing.
Cliched syndicated columnist lesson: Watching the kids go through this crap is part of what makes me grow. Duh. Y'all know this already. I don't have to tell you. I'm just venting.
Next
I've been wanting to write something here about reader mail. I got a really angry email from a reader recently, and I wanted to post it and dissect it here, and talk about the patterns that occur in the hate mail that gets sent to me. How it's usually Christian fanatics who feel compelled to scold me, or older women who think I'm making some big mistake in my life, usually related to either dieting or sex. (I used to get a lot of mail from politically conservative men who wanted to lecture me, then assure me that I was still smart and pretty enough to be worth converting. But that's dropped off a lot. I guess I finally turned them off somehow. Darn.)
Then I felt bad about that, and thought that I should instead (or first, at least) talk about the nice mail I get, and how very, very nice it is. I wanted to tell y'all that some of your emails are so kind that I have a hard time responding to them, because I can't figure out what to say because "thank you" doesn't seem like enough. Some of y'all's emails, I put away in my Save box to read again another day.
And I thought that I'd tell y'all that I myself am very, very bad at writing emails to people I admire and whose art I enjoy. I think I'm the absolute master of overthinking my fan mail -- trying to make it sound flattering but not fawning, interested but not stalker-y. And so, instead, I manage to come off as weird, rude, or pointless. This is usually in emails to musicians or artists or other writers. So, after all that, I appreciate y'all's nice emails even more, and it always makes me smile when y'all express fear that you're coming off as stalker-y or crazy.
(You aren't. The general pattern I see is that, if you worry you sound crazy, then you aren't. Because the few crazy, stalker-y people who do write me on a regular basis? Never worry at all about how they sound. They just pour out the crazy with all the confidence in the world, then hit Send and move on their merry, crazy way.)
So, yeah. I wanted to tell y'all all that stuff, and now it looks like I did. Want to see the hate email now? It's the most messed-up one I've received in a while, and I'm going to post it with the sender's full name, and this is why:
1. It's a beautiful exercise in hypocrisy and nonsense, almost to the point that it has to be fictional, in which case the fiction is art and should be shared. Or...
2. If this person, Melissa Mahoney, is as mentally ill as she seems, then maybe someone who knows her will read this and get her some help. Or...
3. If this Melissa Mahoney is just incredibly immature, then maybe someone who knows her will see this and ridicule her in real life, and she'll then learn a valuable lesson about communicating with people on the Internet. Also...
4. If I get murdered any time soon, y'all can give the police Melissa's name, and, most of all...
5. This email does double-duty as advance promotion for my next book!
And now, here it is. My hate mail, by Christian tamale-maker (and aspiring author?) Melissa Mahoney, uncensored and unabridged:
fucking stupid ass bitch. Me and my family make tamales too by Gods grace. FUCK your 'petty judgemental evil thoughts' you fucking antiChrist bitch. dont say 'Jesus Christ'! about some book you like. dont take my Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ's Name in vain. He is Almighty God, and He saves. God gives me deep, merciful, non-judgemental thoughts by His grace. you shouldnt have judgemental evil thoughts. judge not, lest ye be judged. when you judge others with your evil thoughts, God will judge you. God has mercy upon us, and we should have mercy upon all by Gods grace, and not judge one another but LOVE one another by His grace. who the fuck would want to buy a childrens book for their children from you. Jesus Christ saves.
Thanks, Melissa, for reminding everyone that I have a children's book coming out in May, and it is called Growing Up with Tamales, it's in English and also in Spanish, and it is suitable for young readers, as well as for reading aloud to children who are too small or lazy to read it themselves. Email me your mailing address if you are an educator, librarian, reviewer, or book blogger and you'd like an advance copy to review.
:) 5:44 AM #
Comments:
Wow. That hate mail was awful. If she thinks she's a Christian, she's clearly mistaken. Sounds like Satan is using her pretty effectively, though. Hateful.# posted by
: 11:23 AM
I don't know which is more awesome - her e-mail or your response. You're a riot.
# posted by
: 11:33 AM
Thanks for venting about raising teenagers. Visiting various fora on the interwebs, I have read lots of variations of the "MY child will never act like that because I would give him an ass whipping he would NEVER forget, show him who's boss, and then all would be well" post, invariably written by people who are not parents. Laying an asswhipping works in so many areas of life, why not parenting? All parenting is about is making sure the kid doesn't annoy anyone in public -- especially not you -- right?
Thanks for expressing how difficult (but rewarding) it is to teach kids how to handle themselves and others, when you are not really even sure how well you do that yourself. A cozy feeling of close family comes from every word you write about your kids.
# posted by
: 12:26 PM
Sounds like she drank a whole bottle of booze and started posting online.
Regarding the leaves, if you decide not to do the canvases, I've made some great leaf collages lately (well, last fall) just by arranging them on my scanner and scanning them.
# posted by
Melis : 1:37 PM
I love that she scolds you for using Christ's name in vain, but says fuck about four times in close proximity.
Pure gold.
As for children, I think they should all read your fucking book.
# posted by
Mike : 1:48 PM
That hate mail is so radicusly insane that I am in awe. IN AWE!
# posted by
: 3:52 PM
I always thought that if Jesus really didn't want us to take his name in vain, he shouldn't have chosen a name that so easily becomes a swear. Same thing with God. He should have just stuck to the whole Hebrew thing and given us an name we can't pronounce because it has no vowels. But, no, he had to and pick a simple, commonly used noun for his name. Serves him right.
# posted by
Rowen : 4:08 PM
Uhhhh........ I think one of us :::cough:::Melissa:::cough::: is a wee bit confused about the whole judging thing.
I'm very happy that you took it in such gracious stride, though. I'd really hate to think someone that idiotic and petty would wind up bugging you.
# posted by
: 5:29 PM
There is clearly only one choice for your band name.....
Led Zepeda
Has a nice ring to it ;)
My response to Melissa would involve her practice of handling snakes at "Church", But I'm trying to be nice for the Holidays so I'll say nothing.
Mike in Ohio
# posted by
еdë §téè£ : 7:15 PM
I'd love to know what dictionary she's using if "fucking stupid ass bitch" is considered non-judgmental. I'm pretty sure it ain't Oxford or Webster's.
Melissa, honey, take your meds. You'll feel a whole lot better.
Mike: good band name!
# posted by
: 8:19 PM
That "Jesus Christ saves" reminds me of the punchline to an old Canadian joke in which JC is a hockey goalie.
Gwen, I thought that I was the only adult who would admit that she won't walk on graves. I totally think that the inhabitants don't like it. It seems so disrespectful. But not as disrespectful as y'know, sending profanity-laden hate mail, while claiming to have God on your side.
- maggie
# posted by
: 9:14 PM
I think the leaves you mention come from a sycamore tree.
I can't even think of anything snappy to say in response to Melissa's hatemail. That is just scary.
Our daughter is on the cusp of puberty, so I'm squirreling away your nuggets of wisdom for future use. Thanks for sharing them!
# posted by
Nee S. : 2:35 AM
Holy cow - that was some meaty post! I feel your pain as regards the dental issues. There is nothing quite a distressing (to me, anyway) as having complicated dental issues.
My teenagers are all out of the house, and we all lived to tell the tale. They have to disagree, to be disagreable. It's part of the separation process, I think. I did insist that unpleasant opinions be expressed in appropriate language, which not only spared me several years of f**king this and that, but also equipped them with the valuable skill of civil speech. I think that's about all you can do with them at that age. At some point the miracle happens and they turn into grown up human beings with the moral standards you raised them with, I promise.
# posted by
ellen : 6:25 AM
man, i was going to say "led zepeda" too...
can't fucking wait to buy your fucking book!
# posted by
sayra : 6:57 AM
I actually feel bad for people when I get hate mail (though I haven't seen one that bad). I look at it as if I person's life is so empty or bad that the only way they can feel better is to rip to shreds some person they don't know then their life must suck big time.
# posted by
JTN : 9:16 AM
That was hysterical! I hope Melissa writes a book too!
# posted by
Deanna : 10:56 AM
Keri: It would be funny if a lot of those people (who write "Christian" hate mail) are actually employed by Satan. That would be an effective marketing strategy, actually.
Dawn: Thanks. :)
Anon: Thank you! And, yeah, everything you said. The whole self-centered "You don't know how to raise kids; violence is always the answer" thing is so tiresome, and yet it doesn't end.
Melis: Right? I hope she *was* drunk. And, OMG, that's a good idea, scanning the leaves. I never even thought of that!
Mike: That's what I'm saying! "Melissa, you're so wrong. Kids would enjoy the *living shit* out of my book! Maybe even Jesus would, too!"
Anon 3:52: That's exactly what I said to Rob in an email about it, yesterday.
to be cont...
# posted by
Gwen : 11:24 AM
DUDE! You really hooked yourself a crazy this time. Many years ago, I used to work in the public relations area of a government agency, and we opened all the random letters that came in from the public. About every 3 months, we would get something at approximately this level of insanity, from a random aggrieved insane person. It was never the same random aggrieved insane person twice - I think these folks spread the wealth around to whomever they happen to be thinking about when the attack of crazy overcomes them. Generally, they seem to have schizophrenia or serious personality disorders, and either need meds or (usually) refuse to take them. I don't think you need to worry about this lady being much of a danger to anyone besides herself.
I feel you on the teeth. My husband is going through similar issues right now, and it is not fun.
Also, re: walking on graves. Do NOT go to Westminster Abbey, if this really bothers you. It is simply impossible to walk through without stepping all over the grave markers inlaid in the floor, some of which are so old as to be illegible. It kind of freaked me out a little the first time I went. However, I assume that if having people walking over their graves really bothered these folks (while not all the grave markers represent the presence of a corpse, some of them do), then perhaps they might have chosen to be buried somewhere else with, you know, more walking path options.
# posted by
Katherine : 11:37 AM
Rowan: Heh. I know, right? Not to blame the victim, but hey.
Jennifer: It would have bugged me eight years ago. Now I'm pretty philosophical about it. It's not like these hate-mail writers know me in real life. Unless they actually do, in which case they have the right to their opinions. :)
Dude Steel (and Sayra!): Thanks -- Led Zepeda is hilarious. I can't believe I never thought of that, duh.
Carol Elaine: I'm guessing she knows the rules, but not what they mean. "What does it mean to be judgmental? Hmm. I don't know, but it says on Gwen's blog that she is being that. Let's tell her she sucks and deserves to go to hell, then!"
Maggie: Heh. Right? I'm like, I respect Christian ghosts, but I'm still going to hell. :(
Nee: Thanks. And good luck with your cusping daughter!
Ellen: Thanks. I love reassurance from someone who's crossed the bridge safely. :)
JTN: Yeah. You picture them on the library computer, or in a house filled with people screaming...
My bf imagined that this Melissa grew up having "Christian values" beaten into her, and was now mentally ill. I do totally sense off-the-meds, too.
Deanna: Not to make light if she is mentally ill, but I have to say that I imagined she found my site because she wanted to write a book about her (Christian) family making (Christian) tamales, and was upset to discover that someone (immoral) had already written that book. Doh!
Katherine: Were you ever scared, or did you become immune to it?
And you're totally making me imagine senior citizens weighing their options, trying to decide between being stepped on and the prestige of a Westminster Abbey address. :)
# posted by
Gwen : 1:17 PM
gwen i have checked your blog five times to read your words on parenting teens and also THAT EMAIL, and wow, you're very wise and it it hilarious. and scary. scare-larious!
-smarticus
# posted by
: 4:11 PM
Hi, Gwen,
I'm guessing you're talking about the letters from insane people, and not being scared of stepping on graves. No, the letters from the insane people were just kind of funny and sad. (There but for the grace of God, etc.) I always figured I was more likely to die in a car accident on the way to work than to have an unpleasant face-to-face experience with one of our letter-writers. For one thing, I seriously doubted that they were organized enough to make their way to our offices.
I love the idea of people about the kick the bucket and trying to decide, "Do I go for a prestige gravesite? Or do I go for no one walking over the damn grave?" I think people in cities and noble families were less squeamish about this stuff 5 centuries ago, though, what with family crypts and common graves (for victims of disease epidemics and such) being relatively common.
# posted by
Katherine : 5:52 PM
1. I love your posting about raising teenagers. I look forward to that day with anticipation. Just kidding! My step-daughter lived with me in 7th & 8th grade because she wanted to "try" living with her dad. Those are the BEST years of a teenage girl's life! LOL!
2. I was reminded of the first time I e-mailed you and worried that you would think I was a stalker. :-) Glad to know that you didn't think I was!
3. Thank you so much for sharing that FAN mail. That cracked me up! I feel so sorry for people like that.
# posted by
ShoeGirl : 4:30 PM
My family makes tacos sometimes, too, but God seldom gets involved. Imagine the tasty results if he did, though.
I have a long to-do list in my purse. Its primary purpose is as a focal point -- it gives me something to look at while I say, "How in the hell am I going to get everything done?"
I don't know why, in all the vastness of the universe, I thought I was the only person who did this, but there you go. To-do lists = anti-zen meditation objects.
# posted by
Doppelganger : 1:09 AM
1. I also cannot step on graves. I just can't.
2. I look forward to your fucking stupid ass book about immoral tamales.
3. That hate email is alike a little blow torch of disproportionate, confused rage.
# posted by
jagosaurus : 8:17 AM
Smarticus: Glad you found it entertaining!
Shoegirl: Interesting. And then she went back home and y'all all lived happily ever after?
Doppel: Anti-zen - heh. Also... my dad said similar to you. When I quoted the chick talking about making tamales "by the grace of God," he goes, "So, the hard way."
Jag: Thanks, and yes. You described it vividly and well.
# posted by
Gwen : 8:44 AM
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