Metal Meredith

It isn’t a secret, really. I am a child of the 80s. My whole pre-teen and early teen years were spent wearing skirts like Cyndi Lauper, desperately wanting to be as cool as Madonna but only achieving ridiculousness, and falling in love with boys who look like girls and girls that looked like boys.

First, I found Boy George and loved who and what he was. Then, I couldn’t have told you why. Now, I realize that I was so amazed at someone who appeared so unapologetic about who they were. In reality he was one of the most insecure people and hid behind goofy outfits and silly hair. He was catty and rude and seemingly teflon-like in his ability to let criticism slide off. Maybe that is where some of my quick wit came from, too?

After Boy George, I discovered Wham. Oh, what a dreamy combination of romance and shiny white teeth had George Michael. I knew all kinds of things about him. I had calendars and posters and books and t-shirts. They replaced all of the Culture Club ones on my wall. I clearly remember wanting so badly to go see them on the big US tour, at the height of “Everything She Wants”. I had the videos memorized and the dance moves down. Sadly, the closest they came to me was Philadelphia and my parents weren’t about to drive me 4 hours to see them. I really can’t blame them. I was only 13. It was July 1986.

I have been a fan ever since. My tastes, of course, went right from pop to pseudo new wave then into glam metal. The boys I liked still all looked like girls. I still listened to all of my 1980’s albums and never called them my ‘guilty pleasures’ because I didn’t feel guilt at all for listening to them. Still don’t.

So when it was announced that George Michael would tour the US this year, I was first in line (virtually, of course) to get tickets. I didn’t care who went with me or how much it cost (sorry, Phil), I was going and I was getting a good view. Thankfully, all of my wishes came true.

He might not look the same but he sounds the same. He was gracious and funny. His voice was wonderful although his range wasn’t what it used it. He seemed genuinely happy that so many people still make a fuss over him, not to mention paid that much to just be in his presence. I danced and sang and acted goofy. I made eye contact and was a nerd. I waved and blew kisses and tried my best to soak in every moment I could. I took some pictures and a few snippets of video. But mostly, I just had flashbacks on memories long ago shelved of me at 13, loving every moment of “Careless Whisper”, dancing my butt of to “Everything She Wants”, knowing that no man would ever come close to the fantasy romance that George Michael represented to a newly minted teenager.

If you would have told me 15, 10 or even 5 years ago that I would get to see George Michael perform, I am not sure I would have believed you. I feel so lucky to have been given the chance and to have taken it.

Vivienne is going through some major transition problems which we think stem from both losing a tooth and turning 5, getting ready for Kindergarten as well as an uncertain daily summer schedule. It is a lot for a tiny 5 year old brain to process, I suppose.

These problems are manifesting in a unusual need to be no less than 4 feet from me at all times. Add to that the inability to fall asleep and stay asleep and you have two unhappy parents to deal with an increasingly weepy child. It hasn’t been so much fun around here.

My big plan was to get Vivienne to my mom’s house for a good part of one week and then re-do her room. I wanted to rid her of the toddler things that have been in her room since we moved here in June 2005. After all, she was still in the crib then. I have been planning for this for about 6 months, collecting linens on sale, scoping paint samples and planning around things we already have as to not spend too much. I had everything ready to go when Vivienne decided that she wasn’t able to let me out of her sight without having a little kid panic attack. She only made it one night (and two fun filled days) at Camp Grandma before demanding to come home.

So we rushed to get her room done. It was well worth it and I spent a lot of time in there this week just ‘visiting’ the room and sitting on the floor and enjoying the uncluttered, non-baby design of it all. It feels good to pat myself on the back when I am able. I am taking that opportunity now, and bragging on my own abilities.

Before:

After:

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Vivienne does love the room. She thanked me many, many times and is excited that her room is pink now. Truth be known, I didn’t do it for her, but don’t tell her that.

And all he cares about is cookies.