Metal Meredith

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.

Simply Doesn’t Exist

When I was little, I was under the impression that people just gave you stuff. That was the definition of a gift, right? It was your birthday and your family and friends guessed what you might like and got it for you. Some good, some not-so-much.

Who doesn’t have a childhood memory of tearing open paper and biting through tape to get the box open only to be faced with a sweater made from the world’s itchiest fabric? On the other hand, I remember getting this panda for Christmas one year. I never knew I wanted a panda! But I loved that thing and still think of it often. It had pose-able arms and legs and was so darn cute. Once, I left it too close to the heater and some of the fur turned this rust color. It was one of my favorite childhood toys.

Somewhere around my teen years, my parents started asking for a list of what my sister and I wanted. We would sit for hours making lists of what we wanted, clothes, make-up, music, electronics, shoes, jewelry, posters, room decorations and many other random things. Sometimes, in desperation to not forget anything, I would spend hours in front of the TV watching for commercials of things I forgot to add.

It was never a disappointment to open a box and see something you put on the list. Better getting what you wanted rather than another itchy sweater, right? Suddenly, this became the only way we gave presents in my family.

I am here to announce that I don’t think that embodies the spirit of gift giving. I will most likely piss a few family members off by doing this, but I am hoping not. My sister called me recently and told me I was the hardest person to buy gifts for, Phil being a close second. Funnily enough, I don’t think I am.

In my humble opinion, gifts are presents you buy for someone that YOU want to give THEM. The only break in this rule is wedding registries and baby showers. Of course, I am not one to follow those either. Just ask Ronni if she is enjoying her pink Vespa light that certainly was not on her registry…..haha!

I feel like good gifts are something you have to work for. It requires the given to pay attention, listen and think ahead. Keep a list of what people say they need, mention they want, discuss liking at the moment, show curiosity for. If you don’t have the advantage of these things, then the burden is off you to find the perfect gift. Instead, find something that you would like to give.

Oh, and if anyone ever tells you that the gift you gave them stinks, then I think your giving spirit would be more appreciated elsewhere. No one should waste time on being underappreciated.

On that note, happy buying!

Meredith

PS. I got my hair cut last week and the guy made me look like a muppet. I took photos to share in my gigglefest. Anyone else would have melted into a pile of tears. Not me, I laughed and took photos!