Metal Meredith

I have been spending 3 mornings lying in bed thinking about what I am most thankful for. Of course, it is easy to say health, family and friends and call it a day. This year, I found myself looking more inward and discovering a few things that surprised me about what I am thankful for.

1. I am thankful for a car full of ignorant teenage boys.
The story goes like this: When I was about 19, I was at a stoplight at Staples Mill Rd and Monument Ave when a jeep full of guys cut me off, beeped and passed me while laughing. To this day, I have no idea what they were laughing at or why they cut me off. At 19, I was sure it was because they thought I was ugly, fat, stupid or just wanted to make fun of my car. I floored the gas and felt the rage rise up in me and for a split second I envisioned me ramming into the back of the car and laughing on my own.

Then, a voice from deep inside me said “Did they make you feel stupid?” And I took a deep breath and stopped the car. I pulled over and sat. It was at that very moment that I realized that those boys didn’t make me feel anything. The only person that could make me feel anything was me. Perhaps they didn’t see my car, had told a funny joke and were just ignorant teenagers in a car. At 19, I had learned that I had control over how I let other people make me feel about myself. Although this doesn’t always work, it certainly helps the ache roll off a little sooner when my feelings have been hurt.

2. I am thankful that numbers do not define me.
When faced with someone teasing him about another birthday, my grandfather would smile and say “Sure beats the alternative!” I learned from him that sometimes, the numbers don’t matter. If I am 36, telling you I am 29 doesn’t change a darn thing. If I tell you I weigh 130 lbs, you are going to see right through that, aren’t you? Does your bra size, jeans size, salary or age really matter? I know people that look 60 and are 40 and visa versa.

When people ask me how old I am, I tell them with a smile. I don’t often offer up my weight, but I will tell you should you ask. Bra size? Yep, I will tell you that, too. Because no matter what the number says, it doesn’t change reality. I am much more than the sums of my height, weight, blood pressure, sugar level, age, salary, or IQ.

3. I am thankful for being ‘good enough’.
Perhaps it is wisdom that only comes with growing older or lessons that my children have taught me. This year more than ever, I have learned that being good enough is enough for me.

I had a conversation with a good friend this week about how easy it is to feel like less than a good mother when comparing yourself with people you know. I find this in so many women I have met. Women are so quick to judge themselves for not wanting to be the mom who does crafts, reads books, plays dolls and trucks all day long. It is normal to give yourself some time off, to be allowed time to recharge, to relax and more importantly to be a woman before being a mom, wife, sister, daughter, aunt, cousin, co-worker or boss.

I spent 2 years kicking myself for not wanting to play with Vivienne all of the time. I would get upset that I didn’t want to do crafts, read books all afternoon, push her in a stroller for hours, go to the playground for the entire afternoon. While I know women who love to do these things, it just isn’t me. It doesn’t mean I made a mistake having kids. It took a few articles in the paper, a few brave souls who said it out loud to be able to put that guilt aside, to understand that the kind of mother you are is the kind of mother that is good enough for your kids.

And that is the exact advice I gave to my friend. “The kind of mother you are to your child, is the kind of mother that your child needs.” Our children will not know the difference between the mom that makes homemade clothing for their children and the one that buys designer brands. They will not know that kids out there get $5,000 playhouses when they use refrigerator boxes or that somewhere a mom is on her 6th hour of playing dollhouse while I am all done at 15 minutes. They just know that what they have is what they get and they love us just the same.

With all this said, I still must profess my gratitude for:
~My darling children, who are good enough for me, too
~My husband who is more than enough is every single way.
~My mom who gives all she can to a fault, but needs to starts giving back to herself.
~My dad who is in a constant state of improvement.
~My sister who’s strength impresses me even when she makes bad decisions.
~Ice Cream
~Madonna
~Technology
~Burt’s Bees Lip Balm
~Hand Lotion
~Hair Dye
~Ear Plugs

Thankfully, not as bad and Vivienne’s first attempt at school photos, but not super.

The Coy:

The Undecided:

The Heartbreaker:

I was lucky to see Madonna on the Drowned World Tour, August 11, 2001. Since I worked for the label, I was given free tickets, which was even more of a thrill. When she came onstage, I cried. Just a little, very quickly, but I did. I mean, there she was, Madonna! She was a bout 200 feet from me. In the flesh. It was pretty darn sweet.

When Kym called and told me that she was able to get another pair of tickets for free for the Atlanta show on November 24, it wasn’t hard to decide to go. Even if it took a plane and hotel reservations, it was worth it. Adding to the experience, we had seats all the way in the back, dead center in one of those foofy boxes.

In 2001, we danced, cheered, talked the whole way through. It was amazing. In 2008, we sat, watched and were mostly quiet. IT WAS LOUD, my ears still hurt. She rocked, she sang. She also lipsynced, had costume changes, preached, got sassy, pranced, threw tantrums and was calm. It was wonderful. It did lack the things that I loved about the other tour. The thread that should have pulled the whole show together was not there. There was not really a theme, which I suspect was the same thing that happened during the last tour with all that disco and equestrian stuff.

The graphics were sometimes cheesy but the times that they were good, they made me forget about the goofy 80’s video game lights and the NY subway numbers. She played songs that I have not heard her do before (although I am not a die hard fan, so forgive that I say this), like Borderline and Human Nature. Like a Prayer had the whole place testifying and Ray of Light was electric and loud. The whole thing was so much fun and such a good show.

So even though I crammed my ass on a plane, paid and extra $100 to upgrade to Business Class as to not impose on my fellow passengers personal space, and unsuccessfully fought off a cold, I had a wonderful time and would not have changed a thing. Thanks Kym for being a wonderful friend!