Metal Meredith

The Tradition Continues

I told my mom I would rather write my list of three things instead of just listing them. It�s easy to come up with three things. Never was there the �Most Thankful� things or the �Top three (letterman style) things you were thankful for�. It was just, simply Three Things you are thankful for.

Posing this to anyone who is unimaginative, overly sentimental or lazy, you will get the three most typical; health, family, food/shelter (time running a close 4th, but no one thinks of this too often). Much like last year, I will not bore you with those three. Anyone who has them and isn�t thankful for them is kind of a goober. Anyway, it is just no fun. It would like me being thankful for air and water.

I will start my list with the politically correct thing. I am thankful for my Freedom. This year, as in any where we have an election of some sort, I start realizing that my one voice can make a difference. After learning more about what women did to gain the right to vote, I can tell you that I will never miss my chance to have my vote counted again. This, of course, goes hand in hand with my freedom to say what I want (which I do often), have rights over my own body and medical care (which I will continue to fight for) and right to marry who I want (which I will continue to fight for in an effort to include all humans.) I love to know that even if my candidate doesn�t win, I tried. I made an effort and stood up to be counted.

For those that don�t use this, you have been warned that I will be riding you from now on.

Secondly, I am thankful for the chance to share my favorite experience ever with my two closest friends. Kym and I took a weekend off not long ago and went to see my favorite band. Ronni and I will be doing the same thing in the next two weeks. Both of these women have been in my life for over 10 years now. Sometimes we talk daily, sometimes not for months. Never in all that time did I worry that we wouldn�t speak again, that our friendship would suffer. Kym knew me long before I was a fianc�, wife and mother. Ronni has known me since I met Phil, but has been closer to me than most people in those 9 years.

They know me better than most. They have known me skinny and fat, long hair and short, pre-tattoos and all-black-clothing. We are all married now. We all have different jobs, lives and goals. They keep me sane, make me happy and accommodate my life with a child even though they have none of their own. But most of all, they listen, they don�t judge and they genuinely want to share their life with me.

Third but not least, I am thankful for Phil. I know, I know, I said no family. But let me explain. Phil and I will celebrate our 5th wedding anniversary in January. But to me, it seems like forever (sometimes in a good way, other not-so-much.) Over this past year, Phil has created his own company. He has come into his own as a father of a 2 year old that thinks he is the greatest giant toy in the world. He makes all the money, some times more than others, yet has never told me so. He works all week, but never complains. He makes me ice cream, buys me fire logs and comes up to bed with me at night just to help me get the bed just right.

Listening to other women and couples talk about their spouses, I know I am so fortunate to like him as much as I do, in addition to loving him. He has been really patient while I go through my most recent 14 year old crush on a rock star. He is thoughtful when it counts, he is attentive when I need him. He listens when it is important and occasionally, even when its not. I like him a lot and don�t have enough words to say how thankful I am for him.

In addition to these big things, I thought I might make another list of all the other important things, albeit, not as dramatic:

Air Conditioning
Hair Dye
Ice Cream
Baby Cribs
Dishwasher
iPod Mini
Mascara
Vivienne�s Blanket
Noggin
Arrested Development and Lost
Ikea
Old Navy Lounge Pants
Fuzzy Slippers
NPR
Preschool
French Fries

Or Vivienne’s First Birthday Party

This weekend was Vivienne’s first birthday party. Not for her first year, but the only one she has ever attended. It was what some people would call “enlightening”. Lily is Cristina’s daughter, Cristina who will be sharing space with Phil in the new year in a place I like to call the “Scott’s Addition Creative Group.” Lily turned 3 this weekend.

I have enjoyed about 6 months of reading the blog about her life, including that of her 1 yr old little sister and big-wig law firm dad. It seems that although we are not just alike, Cristina shares the same love/hate, guilt ridden joy of motherhood that I do. In some inexplicable way, it is refreshing. I was pleased to finally get to meet her this weekend, even amidst the horror of tumbling, tossing and flying toddlers.

Cristina, for all of her disdain with uppity uber-moms and scarily cheery Romp-and-Roll employees, had a good time watching her daughter be the center of the universe for an hour. After the first hour rolled around, they turned down the lights, turned on the disco ball and bubble maker and had a mini-low attention span theater dance party for the kids. Vivienne, in all her glory, stood still and watched it all unfold. No movement, no dancing, nothing. She just stared at the ball and bubbles and other kids. I leaned over and asked Phil, “Why is our kid just sitting on the sidelines?”

Phil says “Because that’s what her parents’ do.” OUCH.

It was apparent. Phil and I only wished that Vivienne was a little less like us and a little more adventurous and less wall flower like her parents. In the end, we were all a bit overwhelmed.
It is too early for me to swear off parties in Vivienne’s honor forever. But I hope to delay it as long as I can. Cristina had the right idea though. If you must invite 20 kids over for a party, best not to have it in your own home. (Especially when rotten guests give your child noisy, rock star gifts – sorry!)

or ‘It is about time’

Last week, I came down with a little “back end” sickness. When my mother called, I was unable to answer the phone. So I called her back shortly after. I told her that I didn’t feel well. Her only question to me was, “Are you pregnant?”

I had a feeling that the questions would start soon, but I had no idea it would be so blatant. Truthfully? I am not feeling ‘it’ when considering having another child. In my fantasy life, the one where all of my bills are paid and I am thin, I have 4 or 5 kids. Of course, there are also magical nannies that never get on my nerves but always keep my kids happy while I blissfully fulfill all my greatest dreams never once feeling the guilt of motherhood.

But in truth, I write this as Vivienne is on hour two of television for the day, standing and fidgeting on my foot, leaning on my arm annoyingly while I try to type this. I am so bored of this job. It is not something I take lightly or I expect anyone who isn’t in the same position to understand or sympathize with. However, it causes me to question on a daily basis whether or not I am cut out for this.

I can describe it in many ways, but the easiest is to compare it to having an irrational, uncompromising, tantrum-prone boss who doesn’t value you at all. Then, add to this job the incredible hours of 7am to 9pm with side work and closing chores each day. Doesn’t that sound like a ball? If you factor in the reality that you CANNOT quit this job, it starts to feel more like suffocating than living.

I realize this sounds harsh. I also realize that I am not factoring the joys. Some days they are too many to count, others they are well hidden and require the skills of the most capable tracker to hunt down. Vivienne is darn lucky we discovered that ponytails made her so darn cute this weekend, as it was her only saving grace. (For anyone who doesn’t know me, I don’t feel the need to tell you how much I love my child. It should be plainly obvious by reading any previous posts.)

While working out if and when we would consider having #2, I started having second thoughts about wanting to go through this again at all. These haven’t been an easy two years. After shaking the post partum depression on month 5 of Vivienne’s life, I had the other factors of losing my job, being a full time at home mom, and Phil starting his own business. I am unsure if these are adding to it, but I can’t ignore that they are there. 

I have friends who are on child #3 and they want more, my two closest friends aren’t going to have any. I am truthfully falling somewhere in the middle. I don’t want to leave Vivienne hanging when it comes to having a brother or sister, but it seems that I am just not interested in doing this again. In the end, we might have to take the ‘wait and see’ approach. Let nature take its course and whatever happens will happen.

This will not be a popular choice with the Grandparents, I am sure my mother is sitting with mouth agape at this very moment. Hopefully, in the next year Vivienne will turn into a little angel and change my mind. Don’t hold your breath though, I certainly am not.

That Moment In Time

I won’t bore you with all the gritty details of my night with Depeche Mode. I would think that the majority of people who read this site don’t know who they are. Even if they do, I am sure not many can really appreciate what a good concert experience means to me. If you are one of them, read this first to get a good idea.

I hate to fly. I mean, I really hate it. I am not worried about dying or being hijacked. I am uncomfortable, queasy, hot, confined, woozy and my head hurts. Luckily, on both the to and from flights, I was not seated next to anyone. I took my Dramamine like a good girl and quietly read my book, which needs to be perched at eye level since looking down makes me vomit. The hour and a half long flight passed without event.

Kym and I treated ourselves to a lunch at Ruby Tuesday and a few laps around the lovely Gwinnett Mall in Atlanta. We could have been at any mall in any state from the looks of it. Kym and I bought a few things and had burgers for lunch. We went to the hotel and both crawled onto our beds for an hour.

After making ourselves gloriously hot (ha!), we spent an hour driving around looking for the venue that was right in the middle of the big circle we had been traveling in. We went inside and immediately sat down. Our seats were so close, I have to admit on being a little queasy.

The show was 110 minutes of jumping, waving arms, singing, yelling, clapping and general hysterics. We were 5th row, but there was a catwalk taking up 2 rows right in front of us, so we were really 2nd row in front of Dave Gahan. It was fantastic.

At the very end, I was having one of those teenage girl moments where you think the lead singer is looking at you, but you don’t want to be the jerk that says it. So I just smiled really big and did a big ol’ exaggerated wink, but it didn’t stop. So I looked to my left and that guy was grinning at me, I looked at Kym and she was looking at me (she said she was tearing up) and someone behind me patted me on the back. This took me by surprise so I just went along with it. It seemed like 15 minutes, but surely was only 45 seconds or so. That was a rush. I will have to share the title of “girl sang to” with about 4 other people near me, who also are having the same butterflies this moment.

When the lights came up I was still not quite with it. We filed out and I kept thinking “I am not reacting because I have met this guy. I have been up close and have shook his hand”. But truthfully, I was a little giddy at the constant disappearance of my fantasy/reality line.

I came home on Sunday and was greeted at the airport by a 3 ft tall girl yelling “MAMA” and running toward me. She hugged me, grabbed my iPod and wanted to listen to what I was hearing. We sat in the airport, she on my lap, and both danced to “I Just Can’t Get Enough”.

It is true, I just can’t get enough. I have a good life.