Metal Meredith

I don’t look forward to Christmas decorations. For the past 5 years, it has been a chore to get the tree up.

I remember while pregnant with Vivienne, Phil and Ronni planned to get me out of the house so Phil could put the tree up and surprise me. I wasn’t about to take that on feeling as bad as I did.

The next year, when Vivienne was 6 months old and I bought a mini red foil tree and put it up long enough to fake Christmas photos for my family (sorry Mom). She was too young to care and I was in the midst of discovering my Post Partum Depression. I was in no mood to decorate.

The year after was the first ‘fun’ one with Vivienne. She was really excited about the holiday so we did the whole tree thing. But my lovely white Christmas tree was found yellowed and sad in its box. I made up for it by donating it to a woman who had Down’s syndrome and finally was living in her first apartment. She loved Elvis so I gave her the tree and the lights and she had her own ‘Blue Christmas”. Then we bought the one we have now. The plain, green, fake tree.

The next year we were in our new house but it still felt like we had just moved in. The most it seems I have done in the past years consistently was the tree and the stockings. Vivienne was in full swing that year and it was a joy just to enjoy her.

Last year, I was about to pop with Henry. I wasn’t in a nice place but still managed to set up the tree and have a decorating party with Vivienne. She loved every moment of it and was really proud of her ability to decorate.

This year, I had a grand idea that I wanted new stockings. I had a vision in mind about what they looked like, a cross between a Nordic wool and a Dr Suess sock. I found them. 

Aren’t they nice? I thought they were perfect. And then they arrived in the mail:

Um, do you think they make the fireplace look small?

Most of the people who know me already know that I do not drink or do drugs and although I have a high affection for dough nuts, I am not addicted to much of anything. But when it comes to getting a deal, I am the first person to get a little high knowing how much I can potentially save.

I have had to talk myself down a few times (as well as talk Phil down) from the familiar “Looked how much I could save!!” on things that we do not need. But for some reason, when it comes to Craigslist, I have to stop myself numerous times a day.

The truth is, 99% of the stuff on Craigslist is crap. I am utterly amazed that people own the things they do, much less are trying to sell them. Just this morning, I have found 3 the ugliest fabrics I have ever seen:

That last one, it has a huge tear on the top. Why would someone be looking for a torn piece of furniture? Especially not one with any sort of design cred or real potential. It baffles me, but I cannot stop looking.

I have bought and sold a lot of things on Craigslist. We have even resorted to saying we are “leasing” items instead of buying because when we are done with them, there is a better than not chance that they will end up being sold online. 

I will fully admit, I love living in the suburbs. So now, I will probably get a swift and immediate refusal letter from the ‘cool people organization’ that I have been campaigning to join for years.

Once, I lived in the city and loved it. It was my first apartment, a 12 unit building built long ago. I occupied number 5, downstairs in the back. I had a parking space outside my door. I would leave leftovers from Starbucks on the top of the garbage bins for the homeless guys that lived in my alley. I walked to the coffee shop and the local restaurant/bar on snow days, when the rest of the city was incapacitated. Phil rode his bike from his house to mine when the weather permitted.

I was in my 20s. I was childless and husbandless and worked my 40+ hour a week job. I loved being where all the action was. Now that I am a wife, mother and in need of diapers and earache drops at 10 at night, being a cool kid never meant so little.

A new Target opened up on October 14th, less than .5 miles from my house. I can only listen to one song on the iPod before landing at the front doors. I watched the darn thing being built for months and months. Vivienne commented each time we passed it. We packed up the family on grand opening day, drove the 3 minutes it took to get there and took a look. I took pictures, Vivienne acted like a goober, Phil tried to convince me to buy a plasma TV and remote helicopter, and Henry ate Cheerios in his stroller. We went down as many isles as the kids could handle. It was great.

I realized shortly after that I love the suburbs. I do. I freely admit it. I love being able to jump in the car and get gas, diapers, food, furniture, a tan, a cell phone, a manicure, screws, and a super jumbo 50 roll pack of toilet paper within a 10 mile area. Urban sprawl sucks and I don’t see the need for one more strip mall with a Verizon Wireless, tanning salon and nail place. But I am a total liar if I didn’t admit to doing a giddy happy dance when I saw that an Old Navy is coming near my house. I dare any of the cool city kids to promise they wouldn’t drive the 25 minutes it will take them to peruse the new Whole Foods that will be opening 10 minutes from my house.

We went to the Apple Festival today near Charlottesville. Phil and I fantasized about living on one of the farms, in the rolling, plush hills of western Virginia. It all looked so peaceful and serene and quiet. Then Vivienne whined about being hungry as she watched Dora from the back seat, Henry needed a bottle and a nap and Phil was telling me about needing a better wireless connection. Then we headed back, happily. 

When we moved in, we knew we would be replacing the kitchen floor. Therefore, we were less than careful with it. It had things permanently stuck to it, paints spilled, linoleum ripped up, etc. Finally, after 2.5 years and a 5 foot pile of tile boxes living next to the fridge, we did it!

We started with this:

(Old Oreo found under Fridge - gross, I know)

(Original move in look)

Please take note that it is a faux brick pattern. Even better, it isn’t textured, but it is an actual photo of brick that is repeated over and over and over.

This was how we lived for 4 days:

That’s my stove and the back of the fridge behind my sofa. It sucked.

All in all, it was SO worth it:

Poor Steve worked 3 days to put this in. It was a pain in the ass for more than just us. But from where we stand, it was worth all the inconvenience.