I finally did it.
I moved out.
Yeah, you're thinking, big deal.
Well it is one. I'm 25, still not done as far as education, working to live...walking a fine line between struggling and comfortable. It has been a huge step in the right direction towards being independent and self-sufficient.
Obviously I'm closer to work... my boss seems to love this.
"Oh, must be nice," he'd say in a thick Lebanese accent, "that must mean you can work all doubles next week, yes?" Well, way for shooting myself in the foot on that one.
I could practically-- if weather permits (thank you Michigan)-- walk myself to work if I wanted.
Yes, this was partially the reason for moving to the city.
Throughout the move-- the packing up of the cars, the back-and-forth trips, here again, back again,
hauling heavy boxes up a staircase, strapping mattresses and boxsprings to the roof of a car, unpacking and organizing, putting those damn non-English instructional 3000 piece IKEA dressers together, sweating on one of the last "nice weather" days of the year-- my family was there for me.
No bitching. No asking "but do I have to"? They called all plans off for the day in order to be there.
After all of the grief I have given my parents over the years-- and I mean absolute shit-- there they were, pouring out their heart and their soul along with their pockets so I could comfortably move in. I was not an easy child to raise... for reasons unknown, too complicated to even explain, I was super insubordinate, unbelievably headstrong and defiant as I grew up.
After all the slammed doors, "I-hate-you's", and picked arguments, the empty threats to run away as a youngster...the lost sleep as I'd rudely come home late and disturb their sleep, the horribly failed chores, having to fall on my ass to learn the hard way, that fucking swear cup I'd have to fill from when I was younger, and even the ruts of trouble I find myself in to this day.
After all the teeth I've kicked in and the gray hairs I've been responsible for...
Here they were, freely giving themselves when they didn't have to.
Maybe it only took a quarter of a century, but I see it. I couldn't have been blessed with better parents. I love them.
Some would say they were just happy to get me the hell out of the house.
Others would explain it as unconditional love.
I sit back, and I look around at a new, not-yet-familiar surrounding that I am now calling home.
Home, a modest place in a city of snooties. An envied address in the "009", the land of yoga pants and luxury SUVs, of Starbucks sipping, brand name rocking, physically maintained women rushing to their hair and nail appointments down the block.
No, of course I will never let this area mold and define me. It's funny and even somewhat ironic, moving into the city whose residents I scrutinize and calculate. We'll have to see how this goes.
One foot in front of the other.
One day at a time.
This is me, learning to walk on my own.
-Malia EtienettePhoto Credit:
Moving Day- www.fanart.tv
Autodest Labs Moving Day- www.labs.blogs.com
Snow Storm...- www.earthobservatory.nasa.gov
When Good Kids Run Away- www.parents-are-people-too.com
Reflection on the Poem "Footprints"- www.ronedmondson.com
Rugrats.
Tots.
Little terrors.
Minor...major headaches.
They're your kids.
Now let me rewind this just a bit and preface this post by saying, if you have children you may be offended by this post. Know that I don't give a damn. I'm sure you've taken your children out once or twice and threatened to take them home if they don't shape up. And if this moment hasn't happened yet, as you say to yourself, "Oh, never would I have to with my little angels," oh...that moment-- it's coming.
And if you can truly, honestly say that your children are well behaved in public at all times because you have put the fear of God in their little heads, then this is a snapshot of those other cabbage patch kids that have given us servers grief during our shifts... how a disaster can be averted, and how to create a wonderful dining experience for all.
Manners are a godsend. Seriously. I can't tell you how appreciative I am of parents who remind their children the please's and the thank you's and the may I's. It's a breath of fresh air.
As servers, we are paid pretty much by our guests to take orders and serve food. This does NOT mean that we take orders from your snotty, ill-mannered child. No server likes it when your child snaps, "Go get me a" and "Where is my"....and you as a parent thinks its cute.
The sound of that is like nails on a chalkboard.
Not only do we dislike being bossed around by your five-year-old, we are also not your babysitter. We should not have to collect and wait with your three-year-old that you left behind as your entire group has exited the restaurant and is already down by the crosswalk. Headcount anyone?
These are the parents who aren't active in the supervision of their children. These are the parents too concerned with finding the bottom of their sangria than wondering where their spawn got off to. These are the kids who serve as minor speedbumps in the aisleway for a server. In hauling a heavy tray overhead, we don't look down at our feet while we hustle to deliver the hot-food-hot and cold-food-cold. If your child is down, running amuck near our knees, they are getting taken out. Their bottoms belong in a seat, not in the way of the workers.
We love when you bring a goodie-bag of coloring supplies. We don't love when you allow your child to color in all of our menu's. Ask kindly, and we will provide plain white coloring paper for your child to express his creativity with instead.
Everyone loves a good song...which is why we provide music overhead to establish the dining ambiance. If your child would like to contribute to the music with his or her golden pipes, we appreciate if you remove your child until the tantrum settles down. Yes, we all know what self-soothing is. This method is however ineffective in a restaurant setting. Unlike a church, we do not offer a "cry room", yet we do have a lobby way towards the entry. Go sit down. Go for a walk outside. Please be mindful of everyone else surrounding you that is trying to hold a conversation, or is struggling to top your child's screams in order for the server to hear their order.
If your child needs to use the restroom, please accompany him or her. You have no idea the state we have discovered the bathoom to be in after your little one has wrecked it. Water on mirrors higher than even I can reach, half a roll of the economy-size toiletpaper stuffed into and clogging a toilet, and puddles literally everywhere. No, Dane Cook, it wasn't a wet dog, it was someone's unsupervised child. And yes, there has been shit on the floor. I don't even want to go into how this could have taken place.
Some kids are picky, we understand. Growing up, my younger brother refused all food except bread, cheese and hot dogs. This is why we have a children's menu. We have items like a children's cheeseburger, pizza, buttered noodles, hot dog, chicken fingers and fries....
Due to this, I don't expect to come to your table with your child eating a slice of pizza from the pizzeria down the street because your child doesn't like "our food". Unacceptable, and you as a parent are not setting a good example. I shouldn't be the one to point it out. Seeing as how we offer kid's pizza, your child can either order off of our menu or go hungry-- not be catered to-- since it is also a health code violation to bring in outside food and beverage.
We also don't like finding cheerios, chex mix, and goldfish stomped on underneath the table for us to pick up as if we just played a game of 52 Pick Up. If you plan on bringing snacks, please keep them on the table.
So now you know why some servers grind and grit their teeth when they see a ten-top consisting of only two adults being sat in their section.
We are not your crossing guards, bathroom attendants, babysitters, whipping boys, or maids.
We are the waitstaff.
Learn it. Live it. Love it.
With that said, may I take your order?-Malia EtienettePhoto Credit:
"Holidays for the Littlest Angels"- www.womanaroundtown.com
"Help Getting Organized"- www.getbuttonedup.com
"Lost Child"- www.kidsvancouver.com
"Arts Heavy Preschool Helps Children"- www.bumblebeesrus.com
Crying Children- www.gweem.net
"Picky Eater: Age 5 and Beyond"- www.sheknows.com
"11 Thoughts and Strategies for Dealing with Picky Eaters"- www.parentables.howstuffworks.com
