Journal changes

Hey, I know a couple of you are confused as to why I haven't been updating this journal. I have begun journaling once more for BabyCenter, and in a week or so my open, public journal will be there. I will also have a private, password-protected journal for friends and family. Please email me (leave a comment if you don't have my email address) and I'd be happy to add you to the list of people who can get on it.

Carrot killer

We are walking to the playground when Violet rounds on me and informs me "I am a bunny, hop hop. An Easter bunny. A big big bunny with big candy." This is all fine and well, but the she tells me "And you are a carrot! Run little carrot!" I dash off down the street, keeping an eye on her in case any cars come. She catches up with me and bites me on the butt, growling.

"I eat you, little carrot! Wait, you are lettuce! No, you are cabbage! Run, little cabbage!"

A drive to the drugstore

We need diapers and a new toothbrush for Violet so we're driving to the Walgreens with the parking lot.

"Mom? Do you like cheese?"

"No, I don't."

Reflectively to herself. "I do I do I do like cheese."

"Yes, you like cheese. Most people do. It's kind of weird that mommy doesn't like it, but I don't."

"Daddy likes cheese. Granddaddy likes cheese. Gaga likes cheese, Michael Michael (this is sometimes what she calls her Uncle Mike) likes cheese. You don't like cheese?"

"Well, I like some cheeses. I like the hard, grating cheeses like romano and parmesan."

"PU, you like stinky cheese! Your cheese stink, PU."

No wonder she never wants me to grate cheese on her spaghetti anymore. .

Then: "I want underpants," she announces. My heart leaps. I have been waiting for her to make up her damn mind to use the potty. She's been resistant.

Carefully, I say: "Do you want to buy some underpants and not wear diapers, and use the potty?"

She squints at me in the rearview mirror. "Waaah waaah I not use potty! I tiny baby! Please, I want diapers, no use potty!"

Sigh. "OK hon, it's not a big deal. You'll be ready to use it when you're ready." And let it be soon, Lord. Let it be soon.

In the drugstore, I also found that she has reached a horrible new milestone. She kept grabbing stuff and asking for it. "Mama, I want new sippy cup. Mama, I want bag of boons (balloons). Mama, I want Swede Fish (she has had exactly one Swedish Fish in her life, and it was almost eight months ago, and she is only 28 months old. WTF??)!" I bought her a slinky and a Dora toothbrush, I nixed everything else. She was happy enough when I refused. But still, she asked. Ugh, I knew this was coming, the "I wants." And the equanamity at not getting what she wants won't last either, I know.

Door Tickler

Violet is chasing me around with the Surprise Tickler, a cat toy with green feathers on a long stick, so named because when we first got it she enjoyed sneaking up on Bobo and tickling his belly, yelling "Surprise!" to his great displeasure.

"Tickle tickle! Tickle tickle!" I run through the living room and onto her bed, where I roll from one side to the other like a bullet-dodging cop in an action movie. She catches me on the far side. "Tickle tickle, mama!" She pokes it firmly into my open mouth.

"Violet, I have to go to the bathroom!" I slam the bathroom door and then peek out. She's on the other side, tickling the door with the Surprise Tickler. "Hee hee hee hee!" I say for the door, slamming it.

"Tickle tickle, door!" she tells it, tickling from the outside. I open the door and tee-hee for it, then slam it shut and am silent. Open door, giggle. Shut door, silence. Violet is choking with laughter. "Tickle tickle, door! You laugh, funny door!" she instructs the door. This is fun.

Waaah waaah I'm a tiny baby

Violet likes to play that she is a little baby. Sometimes she is Kiki or Finn, two baby dragon characters from "Dragon Tales." Other times she is a baby cat, or even just a baby human. She likes to cuddle in my lap and fake cry. "Waaah! Waaaah!"

"Oh, it's a little baby!" I try to act surprised, even if it is the 11,000 time we have played this game. "The baby is sad. What does the baby want?"

Sometimes the little baby will cry "Milk! Cow's milk!" or perhaps "I want Mama sing a song!" in a breathy, high little baby voice. But usually I have to guess. "I think the little baby wants a hug! Oh, I like to hug little babies, here you go baby." And then I hug her close until she soothes down. Then she wriggles happily on my lap.

Whoops thought I was going to write more, but she just woke up from her nap, more later.

Date Day

This really was as perfect of a day as I can imagine having. We got out early this morning and went to the new, amazing, renovated children's park in Golden Gate Park. It has sculptures of sea animals you can sit on (Violet told me she was going to go sit "right on the turtle's neck," and did!), a climbing wall shaped like an ocean wave, a giant rope sculpture to climb, and many other glorious features, including a swinging plastic chair in which you can recline. Nice. We spent a few hours there, then realized the carousel was open nearby. It's only $1.50 for adults, and free for kids under six. So we rode twice. Once I rode a pig while Violet rode the sea serpent, and then she rode a doggy and I got the horsey. I had such a happy feeling on that carousel, such a perfect-moment feeling with Vi and Phil laughing beside me, our rides rising and falling gracefully.

Afterwards, Iraya came to babysit and me and Phil had a date. We drove out to China Beach; I was hoping the blackberries might be ripe, but they weren't. We picked and ate a few sour ones anyway, then walked down to the beach and rolled up our pants. The water, for once, was only cold enough to make you scream, not cold enough to turn your feet into actual ice cubes. I stood with my feet in the waves, letting the sand suck my toes down, examining the pretty smooth granite stones on the beach. The sand here is different from the orange-y pulverized coral sand of Daytona. It has small, glamorous grains of quarts and mica; it shines and sparkles darkly. I sifted it through my fingers. "Joyce!" called Phil excitedly, pointing to where dolphins were frolicking together out in the waves. We watched them. A seal poked his head up and watched us right back. I held Phil's hand and trained my eyes on the horizon, trying to find the exact place where the ocean turned into the sky. I could hear my slow, steady heartbeat in my ears. Phil squeezed my fingers. There are times when I forget how much I love him, and then moments when it comes rushing back, making me a little woozy. He's the only one I want with me on the beach.

Yesterday was my dear Aunt Jean's birthday. Happy birthday, Jean! And Dave and Kiki are having a romantic weekend at Daytona, I hope they're having fun.

"Oh no, my song!"

When Violet is enjoying a song, she never wants it to end. "Oh no, my song!" she'll exclaim sadly. She likes it best when we leave songs on repeat, which is why I have listened to "Lollipop, Lollipop" 12 times in a row (and 17 times two days ago, followed by 9 renditions of "Mr. Sandman). It is such a Faustian bargian. While she is listening to her song, she dances around playing happily by herself. When I try to shut off the damn din, shrieks follow. It is like a mean genie showed up and said "You can sit and read your 'Entertainment Weekly' in peace, but you will be bitten by insistent mosquitoes the whole time." My neighbors must think I am insane.

But all this is a million times better than this morning, when, during a shared bath intended to relieve her constipation, she pooped all over me. "Phil, get the BLEACH!" I screamed from the bathroom. Yuck. The bathtub is very clean now.