Metal Meredith

This morning, I had an appointment at 9am. I woke up at 715am. Phil got up at 730am. By the time Phil came downstairs, I was exhausted.

In that time, I managed to:

*get both kids up
*get both kids dressed
*pack Vivienne’s lunch and snack
*wrap a birthday gift
*pack Vivienne’s backpack, get her coat and shoes ready
*make Vivienne breakfast
*give Henry a bottle
*get myself dressed
*pack the diaper bag

Phil managed to:

*wake up
*take a shower
*shave
*get dressed

I now see the glaring problem. I need to sleep another 30 minutes.

....I am required to go get my first Mammogram. Don’t get me wrong, I am aware of the importance and necessity. I will go down to that office with confidence and knowledge that I am doing the right thing. But I am pretty nervous. Not that anything will be found, not to have strange women hold my breasts in their hands. Nope.

I am scared of that huge machine that presses them into pancake form. I am nervous that it won’t stop like some creepy vice on a cartoon and squish it until it becomes more flat that it already is (vertically, not horizontally, btw). Many, many women have done it and in March, I will be one more. Goodie.

Vivienne had a Thanksgiving play and feast on Tuesday at her preschool. She was an Indian in the first Thanksgiving. She spent most of the time picking her nose and eating the boogers, which I dutifully caught on video to show her later and explain to her that I tried many times to get her to stop but finally gave up. Oh well.

I did find myself wishing just for a moment that I could go back to childhood and enjoy these holidays for what we were all told they represent, John Smith and Pocahontas-type myths that made it all much more interesting than knowing the harsh and horrible reality. For now, I get to relive it in dyed brown t-shirts with hand cut fringe, colored macaroni necklaces and paper headbands with stapled on feathers.

Somehow, this is just as fun. 

Night after night, it is Phil’s job to put the kids to bed. He likes doing this, despite how annoying she can be at times and how much both of us would rather be sitting on the sofa with laptops, ice cream and TV. Most nights, he comes back downstairs chuckling with funny things that Vivienne says or does. Then, we talk about how we wish we could recall all of the things that make us laugh each day so we won’t ever forget the silly things she says. This one, in particular, made us both laugh out loud.

Vivienne had a small blister on the back of her foot. When Phil was putting a bandage on it, this was their conversation:

Vivienne: You know, the back of my foot is called my heel.
Phil: Well, that’s right. Do you know what this part is called?
Vivienne: Nope.
Phil: The arch.
Vivienne: Hey! I know another arch! Old Arch Road, like where we live!
Phil: That’s right.
Vivienne: Do you know why they call it a road?
Phil: Um. No?
Vivienne: Because it would be silly to call it Old Arch Peanut Butter.
Phil: (chuckles) I guess it would be.
Vivienne: And it would be hard to drive on.