Metal Meredith

Not only have I sent my darling daughter (insert snicker here) off to Kindergarten this year, but I have to be an adult now and go have a conference with her teacher. How the hell did I arrive at this point?

Sure, I volunteer at the preschool and ok, I have done lunch duty in the Elementary School cafeteria, but this is a teacher. What is that? Yes, I do have friends that teach. It isn’t that I am not old enough, it is that I don’t feel old enough. I mean, how am I old enough that someone could take me seriously as a parent? To sit down and have a conversation about how she is doing with her writing and comprehension, without feeling like someone is playing a prank on me?

Of course, last Sunday I bleached my hair and then freaked out when I realized I had to go be taken seriously by this teacher. I scrambled to have it re-dyed, “fixed” as it were. Sadly, it looked even worse in a lovely Ronald McDonald red-orange shade. I managed to tone it down in the slightest way with some brown on top, but it is still clearly not normal. This isn’t something new, as I accidentally dyed my hair pink when I was being promoted to floor manager at Ruby Tuesday. I bleached it and then it became pink when I was promoted to manager at Starbucks. There were blue streaks when I bought my first house and now, it is ruby red when I have to be a responsible parent.

Do you see a trend? I do. I am guessing that although I don’t plan it out, I am sabotaging my own grown-up-ness. I would have a field day if I started in on my tattoos. I am smart enough to know what all of this is for. If I am so hell bent on not being average, but I still want to not be the center of attention, what is a girl to do but continually ‘mess up’ when trying to innocently dye my hair?

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t do this all on purpose. But once I am faced with yellow hair in the mirror, the oh-shit reaction kicks in and I start to get that feeling in my stomach like I have had too many Diet Cokes and then went on some spinny rides. It is the same feeling of doing something really stupid or knowing that one day you will get caught. I hope I don’t get in trouble for impersonating a parent. 

Vivienne chose her costume, a “Bratz Kitty”, which I cringed at the very idea of. As I stood in front of the wall of costumes at Party City, I uttered the words “Pick which ever one you want”. That was a huge mistake. At least she looked cute and she loved the idea of being something with a tail. In the end, it was fine.

Henry didn’t get to choose, so I did it for him. But I was nice and went for something easy and comfortable, if not easy and inexpensive. I am just not that mom who will design and sew a cute outfit for my child to wear for 2 hours and then toss. Nope. Old navy is my bestest costume supplying friend.

My sister, mom and grandmother came over to celebrate with us. Michelle was our sidekick in trick or treating. She obviously never hated it as much as I did, because she went up to the houses with Henry and I stayed in the street with the wagon. Vivienne didn’t need anyone to go with her. I think she would have circled the block by herself. I am thrilled and amazed every year that she has no reservations about doing so. Because I can remember deciding not to go if I couldn’t blend with a big group. Oh, how I hated saying “trick or treat” and have someone remark at how I looked cute/ interesting/ funny. (Still hate it).

When all was said and done, the kids were in bed by 8:30pm. There is a giant pile of candy on the kitchen counter and Phil and I are celebrating the end of another holiday.

The whole house is quiet. Not because everyone is gone, but because everyone is sick and sleeping it off. Joy.

Monday started with Henry having a bad night’s sleep. He woke up and exploded 4 diapers before 9am. I knew it wasn’t good. Just as things were getting to a point where I was about to cry myself, I revisited 22 ounces of milk, which had been miraculously morphed into cottage cheese in its short and unsuccessful journey through my son’s digestive track. Thankfully, that was my only meeting with vomit that day. Ten more diapers, two naps and lots of cuddles later, Henry was sleeping.

On Tuesday, I had a hair appointment which was the highlight of my day. I dropped a now recovered Henry off at his school and had a lovely hour alone with grown ups. On the way to get Henry, the GPS exploded when I plugged it in. Spark - smoke - dead. I retrieved a tired Henry and took him home for a nap.

We got Vivienne from school and had teeth checkups for both kids. Vivienne still had her previous 3 cavities but no more. However, no insurance = $285 for 2 kids. Fillings would run $630, to be paid up front with no insurance. The nice billing lady apparently took pity on me and suggested I come in the next day (today) to get these done. She also promised to work out a payment plan for all of the charges from yesterday and today. When I went up to make arrangements today, she whispered “Just go” and waved me on to get Vivienne and leave. We are good for the money, but how much do I want that bill to be ‘lost’.

On to dinner, where the chicken nuggets were smoking an awful lot in the toaster over only to realize that the heating element was on fire and I somehow managed to kill another appliance that day. Phil came home, Henry had another icky blowout. I headed off to eat dinner with friends. Had a lovely time despite the sniffles and runny nose.

Arrived home at 10pm to find all lights out and husband unusually in bed already. He informed me that he just lost his dinner and felt like poop. He spent last night making trips to and from the bathroom, groaning in pain and snoring.

So as you can see, I am pretty darn happy to be in a quiet house, even for just a few hours. 

I haven’t had the time to sit and pound out some profound thoughts, as no doubt everyone expects from me (NOT.) So you will have to settle for a mini-update.

Vivienne LOVES school. She has made a few friends and is very proud of herself for learning their names this week: Allison and Julia. There is also a boy names Sam and another girls named Hannah. She is reluctant to wake up at 615am each morning, but who in this house isn’t? It only takes a few minutes for her to perk up and find her energy reserves. Of course, by the end of the day she has morphed into Super-Jerk and is a bear to deal with. Poor Henry just wants to play with her and she wants to avoid the very sight of him. Vivienne also lost one more tooth this week. She was elated.

This week, Henry started going to his playgroup at Vivienne’s old preschool. He had loads of fun but was so over-stimulated the first day, he was unable to take a nap. He drew with chalk, painted on chalkboard with water, played with trucks and a tea set, read books and played with a sand table. He was outside and inside and enjoyed a snack with Josiah, Averie and Gianna, his playgroup buds. I bought him his first Thomas train, (which I will avoid from this point forward lest I get further into debt - they are $20 a piece!!) which is named Henry. He has kept that little thing in his grip every day since we bought it. It has gone to nap and bed with him each day and has only been out of his site when he is in playgroup.

Phil took on the giant task of painting his new office space. I thought he was nuts but it clearly made him happy. Today he gets some new office furniture delivered. Hopefully these changes will make the work faster and easier. He is swamped.

I thoroughly enjoyed my first two days of solitude. The first one, I ran all the errands I had been avoiding dragging my kids to. The next I worked at the school downloading photos and organizing the albums online. It was just nice to not have to worry about the next diaper change or if my kids were licking outlets or eating bugs.