Metal Meredith

I Hope My Mom Doesn’t Act Like This

I was at the Pediatrician’s office on Tuesday with Vivienne when this teeny little girl toddled right up and said hello. She was about a year old and had these little tiny earrings on. I was holding Vivienne who said “Ooooh, what pretty earrings!”

The grandmother of the girl heard this and said “Don’t you have your ears pierced?” and looked right at Vivienne. I smiled and said no. She then gave me a little lecture on how important it is to get done early because there is less risk of problems and complications. I nodded politely and smiled. I am not getting Vivienne’s ears pierced until she is old enough to take care of the piercings herself. The last thing I want to do is change a diaper and then wipe a new wound with alcohol while twisting the earring so the skin doesn’t stick to it. Good lord, I don’t even have my ears pierced anymore, so all of these facts I kept to myself. The grandmother gave me a sad look, as if to say “That poor poor baby girl. She will never be as pretty as my baby grandchild.”.

Next, she asked how old Vivienne was and then said “She still isn’t in diapers, is she?” Posing a question like this is like asking someone “Did you mean to get your hair cut like that?” There just isn’t a very good way to answer it and immediately puts me on the defensive.

“She is two. She is still in diapers. We just aren’t ready, yet,” I said, kicking myself for giving her even a tiny explanation. Right after, she started telling me that this was her 3rd grandchild and she hoped her last. She was supposed to retire last year and then this one came along. She thinks her daughter planned it this way. She is tired, she means dead tired. She should be relaxing and spoiling herself, not her children’s children. Honestly. And those strollers are heavy. She keeps the small ones in her trunk so she doesn’t have to deal with the big ones.

Then, like a pardon from the president, the door opened and they called Vivienne’s name to go into the exam room. We smiled and walked back. In the room, I thanked my lucky stars that Vivienne’s grandmothers aren’t forced to take care of her. Any time they spend with her is because they want to. I suppose I was brought up to think that any time spent with grandparents is bonus time. So one who doesn’t feel the same just threw me for a giant, spinning loop.

...and not Vivienne

Vivienne will be heading down to Williamsburg this Friday for her very first sleepover. Not only is this her first time staying at someone else’s house, but her first time sleeping away from Mom and Dad.

Mom is worried. Dad is a little nervous. Vivienne is ecstatic.

When Phil gave me a trip to Europe for our anniversary this year, it didn’t even cross my mind to be concerned about leaving Vivienne for a week. It wasn’t until well into the evening that I realized the logistical problems of not being here.

Luckily, we have more than 3 sets of Grandparents and family all vying for the chance to keep her overnight without my watchful, evil eye. Just considering all the packing, quirks and routines, not to mention the fact that someone will be staying in my house….seeing the real dirt that has collected in the corners and piles of stuff stashed in closets to be ‘dealt with later’, makes me incredibly nervous. After, Phil and I are dreading the reality of coming home to a kid who has eaten whatever she wants, slept whenever she felt like it (or not, which is always more of a problem) and been spoiled rotten. Such is the punishment for wanting a week off from parenting, I suppose.

I remember spending weeks with my Grandparents in Baltimore when I was a child. For whatever reason, I barely remember them going to work, only taking me to the Aquarium, Chuck-ee-Cheese’s and other ridiculous restaurants, Friendly’s for ice cream and the local mall to ride on the carousel and eat bad food court food. Those are truly some of my fondest childhood memories.

This weekend will be great as a trial run. We are hoping that Vivienne behaves and is easily amused. If so, this might be a more regular thing. Can you imagine? A weekend alone for Phil and me? I am not sure we would know what to do with ourselves. Knowing us, we will be perched on the sofa, each with a laptop, reading blogs and eating cookies. Better yet, we might finish the kitchen floor.

We are a lot of fun.

Thanks Phil

Phil took the time out of his busy work schedule to upgrade my site and make some changes. Over the next few weeks, I will be adding photos to the new gallery, wokring out some bugs and playing with new features. Feel free to do the same.

Is my husband grand?

Bah Lovebug

Since my site has been lacking in updates as of late, I thought I would do a quick recap of the past few weeks:

Week of January 29th, our wall is finished and now I am stressing about doing the floor. We now have a bar at which to enjoy our meals (no more coffee table dinners, hooray), both kitchen and living room benefit from the sunlight they once hogged all to themselves, and I have cleaned the last layer of drywall dust off every piece of furniture. Now there is more painting to do, Phil has to put down baseboards and we must order the light fixture for over the bar. Luckily, we still haven’t received the bill for all this yet.

Week of February 6th, I catch Vivienne�s cold on Tuesday and feel like poo as Phil diligently works to get the office ready for the Open House on Thursday. Vivienne rolls off of her bed for the first time on Wednesday morning at 530am. I sleep through the screeching until 630am, when I get up and relieve Phil from Her Holy-Awakeness. Phil gets sick on Wednesday and we all cough and hack and feel gross until the weekend. Thursday is Suite C�s Open House. Lots of great food, more people than I thought possible to cram into the space and a few people who refer to Phil as �the Graphic guy�, which made me laugh and scowl all at once. I take Vivienne home way too late that night and she is a royal pain. Little did I know she would make me pay for this lack of sleep for the next 4 days.

Weekend starting Feb 10th, Vivienne starts to scream at school and does not stop until I come pick her up at 1045am instead of noon. There is no real reason for this outburst besides she is tired and giving a good bid for the Oscar. On Saturday and Sunday, Phil and I stay close to home because Vivienne is not only screaming, but refuses to poop, my child with the sphincter of steel. It has been 3 days and she is miserable, allowing us to share in every ridiculously grumpy mood.

Monday she stays home from school and is told she won�t be returning until she can see fit to rid herself of her backed-up-ness. She stays on the sofa all day watching Dora and not eating. At 6pm, Phil comes home and helps me administer (and I am sure you can guess where) the evil medicine that will force her to feel better. This lasts for a good 3 hours until she passes out. Phil misses his drawing class. My rank of favorite parent has been usurped by someone only known as �I want Daddy, I want Daddy, Where is Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, My Daddy?�

This is where you all say a small and quiet prayer that you weren�t me these past few weeks. I am not quite done feeling sorry for myself for not getting the proper amount of time to recover from my cold, for losing 2 days of childcare, therefore missing out on a few precious hours of freedom. It amazes me how much I can get accomplished in just 8 hours each week without my child. I have missed two trips to the post office and had to fight to keep a hair appointment. It is the little things that make weeks like these livable.

Now that the Open House has passed, Phil and I are concentrating on getting ready for our trip. We got the tickets today and looked up our hotels online. The Amsterdam hotel is a 4 star beauty on the canals (Phil tells me everything is on the canals, so it isn�t all that special) and looks lovely. The website boasts a multilingual staff, which is a good thing since words with more than 7 vowels make me a little nervous.

All in all we are excited and a little anxious about going. Although I am not a fan of Valentine�s Day, the trip is making me a little more tolerable. Of course, Saturday Night Live hit the nail on the head this past weekend with the skit about the teddy bear, �Not only is the little bear holding a heart available just about anywhere in the world, but, when used as a gift, it also shows that a man has put a lot of thought into his woman’s Valentine’s Day gift.�

I hope you get all the teddy bears holding hearts that you can handle.