Metal Meredith

Ever since last summer, when Vivienne was a few of her friends dressed in ‘ballerina outfits’ getting ready to go to class, she has begged to take lessons. So finally, after hearing this for almost a year, I decided ti sign her up for a quick 6 lesson course to see if she really would participate.

Since I was infected with some satanic virus, Phil had to take her. Much to my delight, he took the camera and stole a few quick shots and 2 really sweet movies. I am unsure if it is the residual sickness, but I get weepy each time I see these videos.

It couldn’t be super, but it was ok, right? Tell me it was ok.

You see, Phil has never been big on Birthdays. His family never really went all out like mine did. Hell, I had a “Birthday Month” up until I had kids. It seemed that it lasted from the first until the last day with cards, dinners, gifts, etc. I love it and I enjoy it and wish it was still so.

Unfortunately, these days the kids take up too much time and energy that would normally be focused on making the day “Birthday-centric”. Phil was given one gift on Thanksgiving morning (a zoom lens for the camera - Thanks Stacey!) so he could play paparazzo with his family. This morning, we had pancakes for breakfast, subs for lunch and went to eat Thai food for dinner. Of course, this was not good as both children acted as if they were touched by something special.

Vivienne squirmed, knocked things over and didn’t want to eat anything while Henry screeched and whined and threw himself all over the highchair. We scarfed down what we could and evacuated to the book store. A little jaunt in the children’s section seemed to make everyone a little happier.

So his birthday wasn’t all that. Vivienne gave him a remote control helicopter, Henry a giant sized tub of jellybeans. I don’t think he is complaining.

Phil and I made a deal this morning. I would take him and the kids to breakfast and he would come with me to get the free, drive through flu shots that the city was giving away.

One year, I had to trick Phil into thinking I was taking him to Costco to buy him beer when we turned the corner to a tiny, in store clinic and I made him get a flu shot, right there in the middle of Costco. I am pretty sure I am still in trouble for that one.

The next year, I took Vivienne to get her shot and the nice lab lady at the pediatrician’s office hooked me up with a shot for free. Phil got off easy that year because I had already got mine and Vivienne had hers and I figured if he got some awful flu, at least we would be ok and could point and laugh at him while he achy and feverish.

The following year I was pregnant and didn’t want to get one. Again, Phil was off the hook. So I figured he had it coming. Henry has had both of his, Vivienne is going this week and I wasn’t chancing it this year with a newborn and a four year old in preschool who’s favorite snack in one she picks out of her nose. That is a little too germy for me.

The Health Department was training for a mass inoculation, so shots were free to test the system. Vivienne was in the back seat the whole time asking questions about why we had to get shots and who had to get them and why all of the people were in their cars and what the people with the hats and clipboards were doing and why were we still in line and when were we going home. When I was finished, she asked when Phil was getting his. He was through before I even got mine, but she missed it. She then patted him on the arm and told him how brave he was not to cry.

Apparently, Vivienne thinks her dad is a weeny. Honestly, sometimes I do, too.

Phil emailed me this morning to ask me a question about paychecks. I, in turn, asked if the check would be deposited today. He came back with something about getting a ride with a co-worker to the bank.

This followed:

“I picked up a nail somewhere, so the Alero is at one of those shops down on the corner of Broad.”

When I first read it, it made perfect sense. I closed the email and moved on. Then, when I gave myself a chance to think about it, there were all sorts of unanswered questions and underlying text.

For instance, “I picked up a nail somewhere” surely means that he was at the site where he is building my dream home. for my birthday, right? Or perhaps that is where he is dumping the millions he has stashed away. Or the body...dun dun DUN!!!!

My second curious note is that he thought he would specify what kind of car he drives, “the Alero”. Oh, so you forgot your BMW today, Phil? Is the Mini Cooper in the shop?

Why my husband feels the need to talk in acquaintance speak when he emails me is beyond my comprehension. My theory is that he gets in to “Manager Mode” and forgets who is he talking to. We all know that in reality, I am the boss.