Metal Meredith

or ‘It is about time’

Last week, I came down with a little “back end” sickness. When my mother called, I was unable to answer the phone. So I called her back shortly after. I told her that I didn’t feel well. Her only question to me was, “Are you pregnant?”

I had a feeling that the questions would start soon, but I had no idea it would be so blatant. Truthfully? I am not feeling ‘it’ when considering having another child. In my fantasy life, the one where all of my bills are paid and I am thin, I have 4 or 5 kids. Of course, there are also magical nannies that never get on my nerves but always keep my kids happy while I blissfully fulfill all my greatest dreams never once feeling the guilt of motherhood.

But in truth, I write this as Vivienne is on hour two of television for the day, standing and fidgeting on my foot, leaning on my arm annoyingly while I try to type this. I am so bored of this job. It is not something I take lightly or I expect anyone who isn’t in the same position to understand or sympathize with. However, it causes me to question on a daily basis whether or not I am cut out for this.

I can describe it in many ways, but the easiest is to compare it to having an irrational, uncompromising, tantrum-prone boss who doesn’t value you at all. Then, add to this job the incredible hours of 7am to 9pm with side work and closing chores each day. Doesn’t that sound like a ball? If you factor in the reality that you CANNOT quit this job, it starts to feel more like suffocating than living.

I realize this sounds harsh. I also realize that I am not factoring the joys. Some days they are too many to count, others they are well hidden and require the skills of the most capable tracker to hunt down. Vivienne is darn lucky we discovered that ponytails made her so darn cute this weekend, as it was her only saving grace. (For anyone who doesn’t know me, I don’t feel the need to tell you how much I love my child. It should be plainly obvious by reading any previous posts.)

While working out if and when we would consider having #2, I started having second thoughts about wanting to go through this again at all. These haven’t been an easy two years. After shaking the post partum depression on month 5 of Vivienne’s life, I had the other factors of losing my job, being a full time at home mom, and Phil starting his own business. I am unsure if these are adding to it, but I can’t ignore that they are there. 

I have friends who are on child #3 and they want more, my two closest friends aren’t going to have any. I am truthfully falling somewhere in the middle. I don’t want to leave Vivienne hanging when it comes to having a brother or sister, but it seems that I am just not interested in doing this again. In the end, we might have to take the ‘wait and see’ approach. Let nature take its course and whatever happens will happen.

This will not be a popular choice with the Grandparents, I am sure my mother is sitting with mouth agape at this very moment. Hopefully, in the next year Vivienne will turn into a little angel and change my mind. Don’t hold your breath though, I certainly am not.

That Moment In Time

I won’t bore you with all the gritty details of my night with Depeche Mode. I would think that the majority of people who read this site don’t know who they are. Even if they do, I am sure not many can really appreciate what a good concert experience means to me. If you are one of them, read this first to get a good idea.

I hate to fly. I mean, I really hate it. I am not worried about dying or being hijacked. I am uncomfortable, queasy, hot, confined, woozy and my head hurts. Luckily, on both the to and from flights, I was not seated next to anyone. I took my Dramamine like a good girl and quietly read my book, which needs to be perched at eye level since looking down makes me vomit. The hour and a half long flight passed without event.

Kym and I treated ourselves to a lunch at Ruby Tuesday and a few laps around the lovely Gwinnett Mall in Atlanta. We could have been at any mall in any state from the looks of it. Kym and I bought a few things and had burgers for lunch. We went to the hotel and both crawled onto our beds for an hour.

After making ourselves gloriously hot (ha!), we spent an hour driving around looking for the venue that was right in the middle of the big circle we had been traveling in. We went inside and immediately sat down. Our seats were so close, I have to admit on being a little queasy.

The show was 110 minutes of jumping, waving arms, singing, yelling, clapping and general hysterics. We were 5th row, but there was a catwalk taking up 2 rows right in front of us, so we were really 2nd row in front of Dave Gahan. It was fantastic.

At the very end, I was having one of those teenage girl moments where you think the lead singer is looking at you, but you don’t want to be the jerk that says it. So I just smiled really big and did a big ol’ exaggerated wink, but it didn’t stop. So I looked to my left and that guy was grinning at me, I looked at Kym and she was looking at me (she said she was tearing up) and someone behind me patted me on the back. This took me by surprise so I just went along with it. It seemed like 15 minutes, but surely was only 45 seconds or so. That was a rush. I will have to share the title of “girl sang to” with about 4 other people near me, who also are having the same butterflies this moment.

When the lights came up I was still not quite with it. We filed out and I kept thinking “I am not reacting because I have met this guy. I have been up close and have shook his hand”. But truthfully, I was a little giddy at the constant disappearance of my fantasy/reality line.

I came home on Sunday and was greeted at the airport by a 3 ft tall girl yelling “MAMA” and running toward me. She hugged me, grabbed my iPod and wanted to listen to what I was hearing. We sat in the airport, she on my lap, and both danced to “I Just Can’t Get Enough”.

It is true, I just can’t get enough. I have a good life.

It’s been one year since my big fat cat died.

I don’t like to think about last year this time. It was full of uncertainty and heartbreak. I spent a week watching him deteriorate until it was time to make the ultimate decision. I don’t regret doing so, just that it took me so long to do it. He was so thin and frail, so I am making the decision to let those memories go and to only remember the scoundrel that was my huge cat.

Griffon was so very cool. Even at his worst times, he was such a huge personality all tucked into this gigantic mushy cat. He laid spread eagle on his back when he napped. When he was spread out on the floor, he looked a lot like a walrus, stiff whiskers and blubbery belly. He had this tiny little head perched on this massive body. He was all ears, belly and tail.

Griffon would lay on the floor in the hallway. When we walked by, he would give us a little swat. Sometimes, he gave us a ‘warning nibble’. It was the precursor to an all out play biting war.

If we were in the kitchen, so was he. He would be right where we needed to be. I suppose this is the reason he seemed so much larger than he was, he was always underfoot. He liked to lay down right in pathways and almost dare us to step over him. One swipe and he would snag a pant leg or sock.

Griffon had this massive purr. It was so loud, it could be heard immediately when he entered a room. When I was pregnant with Vivienne, I always knew she would know Griffon as soon as she came home from the hospital. He spent many an evening curled up half on my belly purring away. Vivienne would kick from the inside until he moved. Even then she was bossy.

His 25 pound body would also attempt to walk up us when we were in bed. He would sit on my stomach as I adjusted my breathing for this giant purring fuzz ball on top of me. If he was particularly needy, he would slowly crawl up to my face and sniff me. Then, as if to demand MORE attention, would rub his nose on my face and make me sneeze.

I miss Griffon a lot. I have thought many times about getting another cat. I suppose even after a year, it doesn’t seem like I am ready to open my heart and home to another cat. Besides, as all of us were mourning the loss of ol’ fatty, my eldest cat is reveling in being the only animal in the house. I suppose I shouldn’t mess with her happiness for a while longer. She is so rude like that.

Everyone, please give Griffon a memorial virtual high five today. I am sure he is still loafing around here someplace.

or How I Procrastinate

I think I have it down to a science now. I think I have truly mastered the art of putting things off until later.

It goes something like this:

*Take a good long hard inventory of what needs to be done. Make mental or even physical lists. Decide what gets done first and proceed from there.

*Decide to check email first. It is good to get it out of the way. Check all the links sent to you in retail store emails, go check out sales of furniture you can’t afford, clothes you can’t fit in to and baby items that are way past your toddler’s range of need.

*Since you are already in a web browser, check your message boards. Make sure you have read all the new posts since your last visit. Click links within boards and see where they take you. Go to click on “Mark All Posts As Read” link, but decide to check ONE MORE TIME if you missed any since browsing just now. Click link and close page.

*Decide to check Blogs as well. Open your bloglines and sigh loudly as you notice 20 blogs have new posts to read. Get to it. Check all gossip sites first. Check what Angelina and Brad are doing, what Paris is wearing, what K-Fed is up to. Then move on to the writers, with kids, without kids, with jobs, without jobs, political and just plain stupid.

*Check eBay auctions, check counter visits to my auctions, see you has paid and who I need to give feedback to. Check Paypal account to get warm fuzzy feeling because of the amount of money I make selling Madonna stuff. Make mental list of all the other things I need to put on eBay.

*Close all windows and programs and close my laptop. Open it, check email one more time. Close it again. Jump off sofa.

*Go into kitchen and get a piece of candy. Throw away wrapper, start to walk away. Backtrack and grab another, toss wrapper in trash and leave kitchen. Notice more trash on counter, throw it away, grab one more piece of candy and run out of kitchen.

*Go to the bathroom to toss last candy wrapper. Notice catbox smell and decide to give it a scoop. When done, wash hands and return to office. Notice bill on desk that wasn’t paid, pick it up and go to computer to pay online.

*see point #2 and start all over.

This really does outline a good 2 hour portion of my day at intervals of 8am, 2pm and 8pm. It amazes me how the time suck occurs. I know that people without computers or little interest get much more done. My friend Chris had replaced his water heater, ripped up carpet in half his house, pulled up his outdoor plants for the winter and probably found the cure for cancer in the time I have been on this thing.

I would like to believe that most of what I learn online is helping me in some way. It is hard to argue that with gossip sites though. It has, if nothing else, helped me realize how alike we all are in the world. The global community thing isn’t a lie. Of course, it doesn’t help clean my house, either.