Metal Meredith

So, of course, I made one.

What I did do was take a page from another blogger (who took one from another, who took one from another, get it?), and decided to do a Tuesday Night Family & Friends Dinner:

Tuesday Night Drop In Dinner: You’re Invited!

“The idea is that at least half of the effort of having people over for dinner is the hassle of emailing back and forth, trying to find a date that works for everyone, then hoping that no one gets stuck working late and the kids stay healthy. This hassle can be largely overcome by just saying ‘Ok, standing invitation for dinner on Tuesday night. If you can’t make it this week, come next.’ The menus are centered on the sort of low-fuss dishes that can be cooked in large batches as easily as in small (and that freeze well if no one shows up some week). And it will be good for us to have a precipitating event that forces us to vacuum the cat hair off the living room furniture once a week. I’m serious about the invitation. Since we can’t guarantee that we’ll be home every single Tuesday evening, I’m making a list to send everyone who’s interested a weekly notice of a) whether we’re on and b) what’s for dinner (this week, it’s homemade pizza). If you’re in the greater DC area and would like to be added to the list, send me an email.”

Here is a little known fact about me; I don’t really like to have people over. I stress about entertaining. I don’t like to be in control of whether or not people are having a good time. It is simply too much to bear. On the other hand, Phil often talks about having parties and how great it would be. If you ask me, his idea is really to wait until it is warm and drink beer on the back porch. Not really a party, in my opinion.

When this idea came up, I ran with it. What if, I asked myself, I just did it? What if I just invited people over, with no expectations of it being fun, of being entertained or wowed by my culinary skills? Would they still come? Would they eat my food? Would it be able to remain casual? So, I am jumping right in.

We will start out slow. We will start with every other Tuesday starting January 17th, 2006; which will be pizza, a garden salad and some cookies. Then, as I get more comfortable and we see how many people to expect, the menu will get more interesting. Come summer, Phil and I will be the reigning king and queen of the cookout, I am sure.

There are a few very good reasons to take this one. The first being that I need some more interaction with people I love, like and rarely get to see. Getting them into my house, I will have a better chance than trying to work both schedules around kids, pets, husbands, and jobs. Secondly, Phil and I know so many amazing people who have incredibly interesting lives, stories, jobs and families to share. As much as I want to see everyone, I want all of my friends to have the chance to meet my other friends, kids to meet other kids, my family to talk to the people I choose to surround myself as an adult. It just feels like the right time to share everyone.

Now that I am all sounding corny, you know that you are all invited. I can’t say that I will be able to cook for 40, but I am willing to try a good 10-20 people. We will be sitting on the floor, sometimes (and hopefully soon) amidst some minor construction in the house. Kids are happily invited; although babysitting services will not be offered. We will all take care of our own and each other’s. While I have no problem with drinking, I will not be purchasing wine or beer for guests, it is BYOB. And lastly, we will hold strict to the 6pm-8pm policy, lest Phil’s friends want to stay all hours. (Hey, I have a kid to get to bed!)

Come one, come all! Please, give me a reason to clean, give me a reason to socialize.

Happy New Year 2006!

2005

I thought I would take time on my child’s 3rd Christmas to reflect on all of the memories I have of the day. This morning, at 8am, I was getting Vivienne, waking up Phil and taking my kid downstairs for her first coherent Christmas morning. She stopped on the stairs to check out what was under the tree and ran right over to her Crocodile game and Radio Control Car. We did stockings and she seemed to enjoy most of it. I am guessing as parents, it never seems like enough and you always want your kid to have that WOW! factor on Christmas morning. Last night I was worried that we didn’t have it, but this morning realized that although it was a small pile, she is a small person with smaller expectations.

I remember getting the Panda that I loved for so long. Its arms and legs moved and it was so soft. I remember painfully waiting for my uncle to take a shower after he woke up before my sister and I could go downstairs. If we walked back and forth between our rooms and my parents’ room, we could barley make out a few unwrapped items under the tree.

I remember being told to go get another trash bag from the utility room and finding a bike in there. Stockings with soap and candy and toys, presents with tags “From Santa”, Mom in her zip us blue robe, Dad is shorts and a tee shirt, both nursing their second cup of coffee by the time the frenzy was over. Dad was perpetually cleaning up wrapping and bows and there was Mom’s insistence that we ‘display’ all the gifts under the tree. Michelle would run upstairs after breakfast and try on all her new clothes, I would play with my toys or put stuff together.

We would sometimes split the holidays in Baltimore between my Mom and Dad’s parents. Spending Christmas morning wit Mom’s parents and then drudging over to Dad’s where we were always bored out of our minds unless the cousins were there. Later, if we were lucky, we were shuffled between 4 or five more houses. Each time we collected a few more silly gifts and kissed a few more perfume-y aunts and cologned uncles.

When Mom and Dad got divorced, Michelle and I spent our first Christmas between the two houses. Dad bought cookies and we went over that afternoon for some present opening and visiting. There were the cookies that had the texture (and frankly taste) of mortar. We scrunched up our noses and played along. Later, at Mom’s house, she had the same cookies and I remember the sadness and humor hitting me all at once. Being in two places that should have really been one, it was a difficult transition.

When Phil came along, he had never really celebrated before. We spent the morning at my Mom’s and I think he was a little overwhelmed at the sight of it all, much less the gifts he got even though he was the ‘new guy’. If you ask me, he was converted that very morning.

This year we opened gifts as a threesome in the morning. Dad and Nancy came over in the AM, Michelle stopped by as well. We opened gifts and had some coffeecake. Everyone left and now it’s quiet. Vivienne is playing with her toys and watching the Grinch (original cartoon version, thankyouverymuch.) Phil and I are both on our laptops; because we can’t go more than 5 hours without making sure the internet is still working. Later, we will pack up and head out to Mom’s house. We will open gifts, eat some dinner and make our way back home.

Vivienne has more than she can handle. So maybe Santa was smart not to bring her very much. We now see that less is more. I can (thankfully) put one more episode of Mom guilt behind me and know that Christmas is as special as you make it.

I hope everyone has a Happy Holiday and a Wonderful New Year!

Love,
Meredith, Phil and Vivienne

Stocking Up On Motrin

Today was Vivienne’s last day of school until January 4th. That is 18 days or 432 hours or 25,920 minutes or 1,555,200 seconds of pure love and adulation from my child. I get to spend time gazing at her lovingly while she busys herself playing quietly.

Uh huh. And who really believes that? In truth, I am freaked about having to entertain my two and a half year old for more than a few days at a time. Luckily, my Grandparents will be staying at my moms. Phil will be taking a few days off for holiday time. We will be busy with family things. And Vivienne’s friend Sam will be in need of a little interaction as well, leaving Chris and myself to get some good gossip sessions in between family time.

The Christmas Part at her school was nothing to worry about. I am not sorry I took the time to hash it all out in my head, because I learned a few good things about myself as a parent versus an adult. I was amazed at how nervous I was going into the church and then how relaxed I was once Phil sat down beside me. He obviously keeps me sane in too many ways to list.

Vivienne sang songs, clapped and then ate a bunch of sugar. We let her run around the Fellowship Hall with a few other kids to work some of it out. She is napping while I give this update and then get wrapping some gifts. Our tree looks so sad and bare underneath. I have yet to wrap anything to put under there. If I do it with Vivienne awake, she steals my tape and proceeds to cover the television with ‘stickers’. Having grumbled my way through peeling off tiny pieces of tape from the screen, I don’t want to do that anymore.

Best wishes in getting all of your shopping done! Go look at the new Christmas Party pictures!!!
Meredith

When Morals Clash

Everyone told me how hard parenting was. I knew it would be, and Phil and I didn’t kid ourselves. We have made it through big boo-boos, sicknesses and irrational 2 year old behavior. But this week, this week was one of my greatest feats yet.

As most of you know, Vivienne attends a Presbyterian Preschool. I chose this school not because of its Christian background, but because of the director, the teachers and reputation. When I met the director, I felt welcome, accepted and safe. It was a very good feeling when I realized that it was close by, in our budget and Vivienne’s friend Sam was going to be there, too!

Phil and I always had reservations about it being a Christian based school, as neither one of us can be classified as such. However, knowing that we want Vivienne to grow up well versed in her choices when it comes to beliefs, we agreed that it couldn’t hurt. My mom likes to remind me that I went to a Methodist Preschool for many years as well. Last week she even dared to utter, “You sang Happy Birthday to Jesus and you turned out fine”. You heard it here first, folks.

With Christmas right around the corner, I realized that the time of cakes for Jesus was coming closer. Phil and I did a lot of cringing and fake smiling while Vivienne serenaded us with Happy Birthday Jesus. We would never think of discouraging her singing, since she loves it and it brings her much joy. Her teachers have told me on several occasions how much she likes “God is Good Time” every week with Pastor Greg on guitar. In truth, we love when she comes home with a new song for us!

This past week I had one of those days that I was never expecting. I realized that I had to attend the Christmas play where we would be singing Happy Birthday to Jesus and second, that I had to bring a wrapped gift for my child to put next to the baby Jesus for the Crisis Pregnancy Center.

I read and re-read the invitation. I tried to find the place where I could opt out. I tried to rationalize which part I could exclude my child from. I told Phil what was expected and found myself getting emotional. When I started to dissect it, I learned something about myself; I was more concerned with Vivienne being able to have this performance experience than feeling comfortable. Phil and I will be there tomorrow with bells on.

However, in dealing with my feelings on the pregnancy center, I was forced to really take a look at my beliefs and research whether or not I could donate in good conscious, or needed to suck it up and make my child feel like she fit in.

You see, there are two things in life that I deem a human right, not a political right. The first being what you do to your own body and the second being who you love. I called a good friend who researched the Center to give me an idea of where they fall on the question of choice. They failed. In my mind, giving a gift to this center, a center that encourages women to make their idea of the ‘right’ choice is no different from giving to an organization that tried to ‘fix’ homosexuals. It is not political, it is moral.

How does this affect Vivienne? Hopefully, it won’t. She is still too young to remember this when she gets older. She won’t know the headaches I gave myself this week mulling over my choices and if this was really a battle worth fighting. Was this something worth not just sucking it up and donating a gift? Would it scar her for life not walking up with her class and putting that gift next to the manger? Let us hope not.

We will be going to the play. We will sit and cheer our child on, even if it is to sing Happy Birthday to Jesus. We will smile, be polite and try not to look like we are as uncomfortable as we feel when all the other kids take up their presents and we stay put in our pew.

Then when all this passes, I will hope that even if some of the nice Preschool staff read this entry, they will respect that I chose to not make a big deal of this rather than cause a commotion. Vivienne loves it there, loves the people and is learning so much. I hate that I can’t just turn the other cheek. I simply can’t apologize for my convictions. At the very least, they will be relieved to hear that the “President Poopyhead” shirt will never rear its ugly head on her little body, much less in school.

Happy Holidays and all that stuff!
Meredith

PS. Notice, hair has been fixed.