Mom vs. The Zombies

Night of the Living Dead. Sure zombies get to stay up all night, but can they stay up all night after a full day of work and a full day of parenting?

Here is my typical day: commute to work in bumper-to-bumper traffic, back-to-back-to-back meetings all day, apple for lunch at 4 p.m., drive home in more traffic, create ballet buns, remember it's soccer night not ballet and go to soccer practice, feed and bathe kids, review math homework, read a book for each kid, say prayers, scoop the cat’s litter box, avoid packing the dishwasher, send 38 personal emails, work on my novel, and write a blog about all of it.

If zombies did that much work in one a single day, they wouldn’t have brain-sucking energy at night. I dare a zombie to attack me after a day in my life.

28 Days Later. Okay, so zombies are faster now. But they aren’t faster than me.

I once exited the grocery store while carrying three crying kids and pushing a shopping cart loaded with $300 worth of groceries.  Do you know how fast I am?  Do you know how strong?

Plus 28 days later is during my “moon” phase.  Should zombies attack me at that time of the month?  Don’t mess with a mom who is fast, strong, and moody.

Zombieland. I know about rules.  Just as there are rules for zombie hunting, there are rules for parenting. 

#1. Cardio. You must be faster than a 3-year-old running toward your mailbox and the street. You must be faster than a 6-year-old running toward the creek adjacent to the park.

#2. Seatbelts. First, for safety. Second, seatbelts magically make kids fall asleep.

#3. Double Tap. You tap your kid’s shoulder once to get their attention. Then you tap on their shoulder again. That’s the “double tap.” Kids never listen the first time.

#4. Be the hero.  Let them jump in puddles.  In the winter, warm their bath towels in the dryer.  Serve them ice cream before dinner every now and then.  Parents don't need to be friends with their kids, but parents should be heroes. This leads us back to zombies . . .

Mom of the Dead. Like zombie hunting, parenting requires humor, agility, patience and street smarts.

I’ve been peed, pooped and puked on at the same time.  I’ve been in one bathroom with a puking kid, while my husband was in another bathroom with a different puking kid. I’ve had a kid cough and sneeze on my face while my mouth was open.

I was raised in the South. I know what chitlins are.  I've seen tripe and cabeza.  I once (only once) went into the porta-potty at the soccer field. If zombies think bodily fluids and entrails are going to frighten me, they better think again. 

I am Legend. No, really. I am.

I’ve seen “Terms of Endearment.”  I love “Steel Magnolias.”  But I’d rather watch movies with alien invasions or the zombie apocalypse.  I guess I’m not one for sentiment.  I’ve learned a lot about parenting from watching zombie movies.

When buying our house, I assessed the number of exits and the ease of hiding or escape in case of a zombie attack. . When I hear a bump in the night I don’t think burglars, I think zombies.

I’ve been trying to train my teenage niece.  She thinks I’m nuts.  She leaves the front door open and does everything with a lackadaisical attitude.  “The zombies!” I warn her, but she just makes fun of me on her Facebook page.

Well, I’ve got news for her and the rest of you.  Mom + zombies = Mom wins.  When the zombies attack you’ll really wish you had me on your team.