Every night before she goes to bed, after the last nurse and diaper and pajamas, after toothbrushing and the selecting of a sticker to put on the calendar ("do you want a star or a bee or a ladybug?"), Violet will come out to me and open her mouth for inspection. I look inside.
"Looks good in there," I tell her. Then I put my face out for a kiss. "Goodnight, honey!"
"Go night!" says Violet.
"I love you!"
Nothing. She has only told me she loved me twice, under extreme prompting. Tonight, though, she ran over to the couch and grabbed a few pillows, plumping them beside my arm.
"Pee yo right hee ya," she told me, patting me. "Go night! Go night!"
"You're trying to make mama comfortable," I said. "I'm going to cry!"
"Happy mama!" she says sternly. "No waaaah mama."
No waaaah mama! I totally agree.
Today Phil and his brother went shopping with the babies. I got the day off to go to Lee and Ron's baby shower, and hang out with Steve and Mariana. Lots of babies, lots of talking about babies. I missed my baby. When she finally got home, at 6, I squatted down and held out my arms, expecting her to rush into them, but she went on by. I got such a chill in my heart. How long will it be before she's embarrassed by my wanting a hug? Surely my heart will break.
We reconnected after dinner. I finished nursing her, and she hopped on top of me while I was lying on her bed.
"I ride!" she suggested. "Need hat." She often selects different headgear for different purposes. She particularly likes to wear the red cowboy hat on the rocking horse, but this time she went for the brown velvet riding helmet.
I bounce her up and down to the Lone Ranger theme. I do quick sharp bounces, and heavy slow bounces. I shake from side to side. I roll in slow circles. Her face, above me, is round like the moon. She is smiling so hard. My legs are so tired, but I have to keep it up, have to see more of that smile. It's like a drug.
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Friday, June 29, 2007
Fish store
"It stinky," said Violet, pinching her nose shut. She's been saying this a lot. I guess she's sensitive to smells? Sorry, Princess, we live in a city, there's gonna be times we're passing the corner of Pee Stench Alley and Warm Garbage Avenue.
We silently rolled through the store. I could tell they were antsy about us being there so I wanted to be fast. Everybody hates a toddler, even parents of other toddlers. She's quiet, I want to tell them. She's a good girl. She keeps her hands to herself. She knows just to look with her eyes. But they glare at me, and I can't help feeling funny. I keep her in the stroller and go fast around the aisles.
"Lobstah!" she says in front of a tank full of tiny ones. "Baby turtle!" There are fish with iridescent patches on their butts, fish the color of pink cotton candy and gingko leaves in the fall. Long darting fish. Fish with ruffled tails. Shiny silver fish like Susan B. Anthony dollars.
Why do they look like that? Why are some bright and others dull? What kind of damn camouflage is it to be purple with neon green spots?
I think we need to go to the library to find out more about fish. I just don't know enough to teach her.
We paused for a long time in front of the saltwater tank. I long for a tank full of anemones, pink and orange and green. They grow and shrink, did you know that? When they're hungry they can get as tiny as a pencil eraser, then grow to the size of an appetizer plate once they've eaten. They're magic things. But taking care of a saltwater tank is a huge pain in the butt; I'm not up for it. I couldn't even keep our polka dot plant alive. My friend Miles used to have a pink anemone, well, several. His name was Oscar. Oscar kept dying, but he'd replace him with a new pink one every time because, he told me, he knew I loved Oscar so much.
"Anemones," I said dreamily. "Anemones."
"Nem knees," repeated Violet.
The fish store guy was scooping out a fish. "Do you want to see it?" he asked, squatting in front of Violet. Nice guy! I could kiss him. I love it when people engage with her. "See, he scoops up the sand in his mouth, and then it blows out of his gills!" He holds the fish out in a cup for her to see it.
"He cleans it! Cool!" I said, impressed.
Violet says nothing, but her eyes look at the fish. The sand-eater. She is taking it all in, making wrinkles on her brain. How happy I am. How wonderful this is.
We silently rolled through the store. I could tell they were antsy about us being there so I wanted to be fast. Everybody hates a toddler, even parents of other toddlers. She's quiet, I want to tell them. She's a good girl. She keeps her hands to herself. She knows just to look with her eyes. But they glare at me, and I can't help feeling funny. I keep her in the stroller and go fast around the aisles.
"Lobstah!" she says in front of a tank full of tiny ones. "Baby turtle!" There are fish with iridescent patches on their butts, fish the color of pink cotton candy and gingko leaves in the fall. Long darting fish. Fish with ruffled tails. Shiny silver fish like Susan B. Anthony dollars.
Why do they look like that? Why are some bright and others dull? What kind of damn camouflage is it to be purple with neon green spots?
I think we need to go to the library to find out more about fish. I just don't know enough to teach her.
We paused for a long time in front of the saltwater tank. I long for a tank full of anemones, pink and orange and green. They grow and shrink, did you know that? When they're hungry they can get as tiny as a pencil eraser, then grow to the size of an appetizer plate once they've eaten. They're magic things. But taking care of a saltwater tank is a huge pain in the butt; I'm not up for it. I couldn't even keep our polka dot plant alive. My friend Miles used to have a pink anemone, well, several. His name was Oscar. Oscar kept dying, but he'd replace him with a new pink one every time because, he told me, he knew I loved Oscar so much.
"Anemones," I said dreamily. "Anemones."
"Nem knees," repeated Violet.
The fish store guy was scooping out a fish. "Do you want to see it?" he asked, squatting in front of Violet. Nice guy! I could kiss him. I love it when people engage with her. "See, he scoops up the sand in his mouth, and then it blows out of his gills!" He holds the fish out in a cup for her to see it.
"He cleans it! Cool!" I said, impressed.
Violet says nothing, but her eyes look at the fish. The sand-eater. She is taking it all in, making wrinkles on her brain. How happy I am. How wonderful this is.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Something exciting
I ran into a woman I know from a swim class we used to take, and she told me about a really cool organization that's right up the street from here. It's called the Talk Line, and it's a sort of clubhouse for kids and parents. They have drop-in playgroups, moms, support groups, counseling, lots of good stuff. I went to the website to check the schedule, and there at the top it said "Parenting is the toughest job in the world! You don't have to do it without help!" And I started crying like the big baby I am. I am pretty tired of doing it alone. I mean, there's Phil, but all day I'm by myself, unless I make efforts to make plans (and I do, but other times I don't). I feel like I've been trying for two years to make a best Mom friend. I have lots of mom friends, but I haven't been able to find #1, someone who has a girl Violet's age and who stays at home, and who I really connect with. Maybe I will find her at the Talk Line.
I've actually had a connection with the Talk Line before. I called them, they have a toll-free hotline, and I called one day when I was seriously losing my mind and just cried. Then later, I passed by the office when I was walking with Violet, feeling so exhausted and strung out, and realized what the office was, and silently thanked them for being there for me the night I needed them so badly.
I've been finding out about more and more of this stuff, city programs, cool places to go, free things to do with kids. I feel like my social life is blossoming. For a long long time I had to confine myself to our apartment and the playground; now we're busting out and I'm finding what I can do with her. A lot, really. It's nice.
I've actually had a connection with the Talk Line before. I called them, they have a toll-free hotline, and I called one day when I was seriously losing my mind and just cried. Then later, I passed by the office when I was walking with Violet, feeling so exhausted and strung out, and realized what the office was, and silently thanked them for being there for me the night I needed them so badly.
I've been finding out about more and more of this stuff, city programs, cool places to go, free things to do with kids. I feel like my social life is blossoming. For a long long time I had to confine myself to our apartment and the playground; now we're busting out and I'm finding what I can do with her. A lot, really. It's nice.
Fishy!
At breakfast (turkey bacon, avocado, and apples), Violet was complaining that she had to poop and couldn't.
"No poop!" she yelled. "Hurt baby gina!" She means, she feels a general pain in her nether regions, that's what she says when she's having trouble.
"Let's go take a bath," I suggested. "It helps to sit in the warm water."
In the tub she sweetened up, feeling better.
"I baby way-ul," she told me, swimming the plastic killer whale towards me. "No! I mama whale. This baby whale," indicating the toy. "And here fish!"
"What color is this fishie?" I asked her, brandishing the squirty fish.
"Purp! Yellow!"
"Fish come in all sorts of colors. Red and blue and green and silver and gold. Would you like to go to an aquarium and see lots of different fish?"
She would! So we're going to a fish store. How fun, how fun; she gets interested in something and I can show it to her.
"No poop!" she yelled. "Hurt baby gina!" She means, she feels a general pain in her nether regions, that's what she says when she's having trouble.
"Let's go take a bath," I suggested. "It helps to sit in the warm water."
In the tub she sweetened up, feeling better.
"I baby way-ul," she told me, swimming the plastic killer whale towards me. "No! I mama whale. This baby whale," indicating the toy. "And here fish!"
"What color is this fishie?" I asked her, brandishing the squirty fish.
"Purp! Yellow!"
"Fish come in all sorts of colors. Red and blue and green and silver and gold. Would you like to go to an aquarium and see lots of different fish?"
She would! So we're going to a fish store. How fun, how fun; she gets interested in something and I can show it to her.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Do we have to go through the same thing every night?
I made the most gorgeous tortila espanola tonight. You didn't know whether to eat it or date it, it was that gorgeous. Violet likes every single ingredient in it: eggs, potatoes, onions, salt, oil. But when I sat it down in front of her, she pushed her plate away so hard it splattered onto the floor.
"No like it!" she huffed. "No eat it! Never never."
I would like to throw her damn plate right out the window. But instead I have to be patient mom.
"Oh honey, just sit here with Daddy and I then and talk to us. You can drink your milk, and just sit. You don't have to eat."
Two minutes later, she'd tried the tortilla. "Like it, mom!" she enthused. "Eat! Eat eat eat!"
Why can't we go there first? Why is there always a no before there's a yes? When I want her to take anything I have to ask her twice. Water, Violet? No? What about now? And she almost says yes the second time I ask. What is that?
Time for me to chill out a bit right now, I'd better get off the computer. Phil's put Violet to sleep in the other room and fallen asleep himself; in a few minutes he'll come out and we can spent some couch time together.
"No like it!" she huffed. "No eat it! Never never."
I would like to throw her damn plate right out the window. But instead I have to be patient mom.
"Oh honey, just sit here with Daddy and I then and talk to us. You can drink your milk, and just sit. You don't have to eat."
Two minutes later, she'd tried the tortilla. "Like it, mom!" she enthused. "Eat! Eat eat eat!"
Why can't we go there first? Why is there always a no before there's a yes? When I want her to take anything I have to ask her twice. Water, Violet? No? What about now? And she almost says yes the second time I ask. What is that?
Time for me to chill out a bit right now, I'd better get off the computer. Phil's put Violet to sleep in the other room and fallen asleep himself; in a few minutes he'll come out and we can spent some couch time together.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Wrong side of something, anyway
Violet's first words when she got up from her nap: "I don't wanna!" I hadn't asked her anything! I was in the other room, working. She woke right up from her nap and decided she didn't want to do something. I wonder what it was. She was definitely voting yes on no today. It's great when she gets in that "no" frame of mind. You know how salespeople talk about getting potential customers in a "yes mood?" She gets in the no mood. And then she'll repeat whatever you say, negating it.
"Violet, do you want some apple?"
"No apple."
"Should we go the playground?"
"No playground."
"But we're going to have fun."
"NO fun!"
Violet, what are you saying? No fun? What is wrong with you, child? Fun is what we live for.
Violet discovered the concept of glow-in-the-dark at 4:17 p.m. We took a stick-on star under the blankets and admired it glowing. Then Violet wanted it "up in air, mama" so we strategized on how to suspend it from the ceiling. Eventually a lightbulb went off over my head and I went and got the helium balloon she got from Trader Joe's. I taped the star to it, hoping it would rise. The star was too heavy. But V was impressed anyway and dragged the star balloon down on the ground for a long time.
Went and saw Karen and Matthew tonight, at their house. Brenda was also over. Her last name is Cole, and she is soon to marry a man named Kevin O'Neill and he would like her to take his name. We were suggesting possible mashups such as Brenda O'Cole, or O'Brenda Cole-Neill. I'm partial to O'Brenda myself. Emmett was looking big, and cute. He is 8 months now. Time, flying. He was wearing the shirt I gave him, I was proud to see. Perhaps they did this on purpose. When it was time to put him to bed, Matthew just pretty much swaddled him and laid him down, and Emmett just went off calmly to sleep. There are apparently children who do this!! Perhaps I will get one of these someday.
"Violet, do you want some apple?"
"No apple."
"Should we go the playground?"
"No playground."
"But we're going to have fun."
"NO fun!"
Violet, what are you saying? No fun? What is wrong with you, child? Fun is what we live for.
Violet discovered the concept of glow-in-the-dark at 4:17 p.m. We took a stick-on star under the blankets and admired it glowing. Then Violet wanted it "up in air, mama" so we strategized on how to suspend it from the ceiling. Eventually a lightbulb went off over my head and I went and got the helium balloon she got from Trader Joe's. I taped the star to it, hoping it would rise. The star was too heavy. But V was impressed anyway and dragged the star balloon down on the ground for a long time.
Went and saw Karen and Matthew tonight, at their house. Brenda was also over. Her last name is Cole, and she is soon to marry a man named Kevin O'Neill and he would like her to take his name. We were suggesting possible mashups such as Brenda O'Cole, or O'Brenda Cole-Neill. I'm partial to O'Brenda myself. Emmett was looking big, and cute. He is 8 months now. Time, flying. He was wearing the shirt I gave him, I was proud to see. Perhaps they did this on purpose. When it was time to put him to bed, Matthew just pretty much swaddled him and laid him down, and Emmett just went off calmly to sleep. There are apparently children who do this!! Perhaps I will get one of these someday.
Scary
Violet (sitting on my lap languidly): "Time go, mama."
Me: "You want to go outside?"
Violet: "No, I want to go INside," zooming a hand into my mouth.
Me: "You want to go outside?"
Violet: "No, I want to go INside," zooming a hand into my mouth.
An important concept
We have just built Violet's first fort, out of two chairs and a fleece blanket.
She has been in there for at least ten minutes, quiet. I think she's putting her babies to sleep, but awesome, yay forts.
She has been in there for at least ten minutes, quiet. I think she's putting her babies to sleep, but awesome, yay forts.
Just back from Trader Joe's
"OK, honey, we're home!"
"Homey, homey." She doesn't move.
"Violet, are you ready to get out?"
"NO! No go in house."
"Honey, it's lunchtime. I have turkey meatloaf and that risotto from last night. And nectarines. And green grapes. Lunch is going to be delicious. Let's go on in and eat."
"No! NOOOOOO! No leave car!" A fusillade of kicks on the back of my seat. Her screaming reaches a pitch I am certain will shatter the windshield.
"Violet, I gotta pee. And the freezer foods are melting. And we can't live in the car."
"Yes, yes, live in car!"
"Don't you want to go and see Bobo?"
"NO! No go see Bobo! Live in car! No go 'side."
"Don't you want to see Judith?"
"No!"
"Rocking horse?"
"No!"
"Your balloon kite?"
"No!"
Somehow I managed to get two bags of freezer-bound groceries (the shelf stuff can stay in the car until Phil gets home, I'm not killing myself), my purse, Pinky, Violet's jacket, her Funtainer water, and screamy ol Violet herself up the street. It took 17 minutes to go not quite a half block, what with having to stop and scream "NO NO NO NO go 'way! Go 'way!" every two steps. Sometimes parenting her is so incredible and I am filled with so much joy, and other times, it feels like I'm trying to pull a schoolbus out of my nose. I am exhausted.
"Homey, homey." She doesn't move.
"Violet, are you ready to get out?"
"NO! No go in house."
"Honey, it's lunchtime. I have turkey meatloaf and that risotto from last night. And nectarines. And green grapes. Lunch is going to be delicious. Let's go on in and eat."
"No! NOOOOOO! No leave car!" A fusillade of kicks on the back of my seat. Her screaming reaches a pitch I am certain will shatter the windshield.
"Violet, I gotta pee. And the freezer foods are melting. And we can't live in the car."
"Yes, yes, live in car!"
"Don't you want to go and see Bobo?"
"NO! No go see Bobo! Live in car! No go 'side."
"Don't you want to see Judith?"
"No!"
"Rocking horse?"
"No!"
"Your balloon kite?"
"No!"
Somehow I managed to get two bags of freezer-bound groceries (the shelf stuff can stay in the car until Phil gets home, I'm not killing myself), my purse, Pinky, Violet's jacket, her Funtainer water, and screamy ol Violet herself up the street. It took 17 minutes to go not quite a half block, what with having to stop and scream "NO NO NO NO go 'way! Go 'way!" every two steps. Sometimes parenting her is so incredible and I am filled with so much joy, and other times, it feels like I'm trying to pull a schoolbus out of my nose. I am exhausted.
More realtime reporting
Violet has her pink feather boa and the miniature sock monkey. She is winding the boa around and setting the monkey on top.
"Here you go, Monkey! Can I get on? Yes! Thank you!"
She hits Bobo with her hand.
"Did you just hit Bobo? The rule is, we don't hit Bobo. What is the rule?"
She looks at me from under a glowering brow. "I like hit Bobo. I hit Bobo riiiight...now!" She hits him with an open hand. Bobo scratches her. She wails.
"Violet, Bobo's just defending himself."
"No no no no nooooo! Monkey on back! Monkey on back!"
Does she have a heroin jones? No, she means it literally, and tries to stick the monkey on my back. He falls off. "Monkey here!" She tries again. Falls. Cries.
"Monkey egg!" she frowns, piling up the boa. "Super egg!" She lifts her arms into the air.
"Is it an egg?" I say enthusiastically, trying to fit in with her game.
"NO!" she shouts. "NO EGG! Bad, bad egg!" She pulls the boa up. Why am I always so wrong? Why am I the wrongest wrong ever to exist in the world? Thank God she finds her Baby Bright Ball and entertains herself playing "Merrily We Roll Along" over and over again.
I forgot to mention how proud I was of Phil on Saturday. Someone had brought a Fisher Price Corn Popper to the park and left it there, broken. Mr. Wizard over here just happened to have a screwdriver in his pocket, and took it apart, and fixed it using a stick to stand in for a broken piece of the toy. I was so proud. I walked around the whole playground track popping the corn. Pop pop pop pop! Now that's fun! My man is handy!
"Here you go, Monkey! Can I get on? Yes! Thank you!"
She hits Bobo with her hand.
"Did you just hit Bobo? The rule is, we don't hit Bobo. What is the rule?"
She looks at me from under a glowering brow. "I like hit Bobo. I hit Bobo riiiight...now!" She hits him with an open hand. Bobo scratches her. She wails.
"Violet, Bobo's just defending himself."
"No no no no nooooo! Monkey on back! Monkey on back!"
Does she have a heroin jones? No, she means it literally, and tries to stick the monkey on my back. He falls off. "Monkey here!" She tries again. Falls. Cries.
"Monkey egg!" she frowns, piling up the boa. "Super egg!" She lifts her arms into the air.
"Is it an egg?" I say enthusiastically, trying to fit in with her game.
"NO!" she shouts. "NO EGG! Bad, bad egg!" She pulls the boa up. Why am I always so wrong? Why am I the wrongest wrong ever to exist in the world? Thank God she finds her Baby Bright Ball and entertains herself playing "Merrily We Roll Along" over and over again.
I forgot to mention how proud I was of Phil on Saturday. Someone had brought a Fisher Price Corn Popper to the park and left it there, broken. Mr. Wizard over here just happened to have a screwdriver in his pocket, and took it apart, and fixed it using a stick to stand in for a broken piece of the toy. I was so proud. I walked around the whole playground track popping the corn. Pop pop pop pop! Now that's fun! My man is handy!
Monday, June 25, 2007
Violet's non-busy hands
Pretty much every time I ask a childless friend if Violet can come along to a visit to their house, they flutter nervously that they the place isn't childproofed. Which is so sweet! But you know what? Violet doesn't need childproofing. Is she such a strange kid? She doesn't..mess with stuff. When she was really small, she never put stuff in the mouth the way other kids did. And then she never messed with the light sockets. And now she doesn't bother to de-shelve books or empty her bins onto the floor crashingly. Is she just mellow in this way? Or is she smart? Or is it because she's a girl? I didn't train it out of her. She just never did it.
This was brought home to me today when we went to go visit Liko today. Liko is a few months older than V, and his mom, Ollie, and I went to college together. Liko is a darling little boy who I think is actually probably on the gentler end of the spectrum of boys, as he is polite and hugs Violet and shares his toys, etc. etc. But still, we'd walk into a room and he'd immediately upend a basket of toys and gleefully jump on top of them in a way V has never done. It's so crazy, the differences between kids.
Still, I feel like I'm a worm of cleanliness, moving through the house to absolutely no effect. I notice the toilet is a mess, I clean it...and meantime Violet has pulled out her Play-Doh barrel and there's little balls of dough all over the floor. I take the time to do the dishes and she's pulled out all the hats and is trying them on one by one. I bend and straighten and pick up and wipe off and put away and hang up and oh my God, she left the sippy cup on its side and milk has dripped down the table legs and onto the floor.
What cute thing did she do today? She drew an apple! It was really cool! I drew one, and then she picked up a reddish crayon and did a shaky circle right next to mine, with a little line at the top for a stem. I think that's kind of amazing for a two year old. It was a recognizable apple! What else? When we were at Liko's, Liko's friend Argus was over, Ollie babysits him sometimes. Argus starting keening for his mom. He got upset and was crying over and over again, "I want my mom! I want my mom!" It felt so heartbreaking I picked him up and put him on my lap and told him "I'm not your mom, but I am a mom," and snoogled him onto my chest. And Violet came right over and instead of saying "My Mommy!" and pushing him off like she usually would, she patted his back. I thought that was sweet. Poor ol' Argus. Ollie called his mom and she came back early, whew! He was inconsolable. I got tears in my eyes I was so sad I couldn't help him. Ollie and I sang songs to pass the time until she came, and he would be OK until the end of every song, but then he'd cry again. Poor lil guy.
This was brought home to me today when we went to go visit Liko today. Liko is a few months older than V, and his mom, Ollie, and I went to college together. Liko is a darling little boy who I think is actually probably on the gentler end of the spectrum of boys, as he is polite and hugs Violet and shares his toys, etc. etc. But still, we'd walk into a room and he'd immediately upend a basket of toys and gleefully jump on top of them in a way V has never done. It's so crazy, the differences between kids.
Still, I feel like I'm a worm of cleanliness, moving through the house to absolutely no effect. I notice the toilet is a mess, I clean it...and meantime Violet has pulled out her Play-Doh barrel and there's little balls of dough all over the floor. I take the time to do the dishes and she's pulled out all the hats and is trying them on one by one. I bend and straighten and pick up and wipe off and put away and hang up and oh my God, she left the sippy cup on its side and milk has dripped down the table legs and onto the floor.
What cute thing did she do today? She drew an apple! It was really cool! I drew one, and then she picked up a reddish crayon and did a shaky circle right next to mine, with a little line at the top for a stem. I think that's kind of amazing for a two year old. It was a recognizable apple! What else? When we were at Liko's, Liko's friend Argus was over, Ollie babysits him sometimes. Argus starting keening for his mom. He got upset and was crying over and over again, "I want my mom! I want my mom!" It felt so heartbreaking I picked him up and put him on my lap and told him "I'm not your mom, but I am a mom," and snoogled him onto my chest. And Violet came right over and instead of saying "My Mommy!" and pushing him off like she usually would, she patted his back. I thought that was sweet. Poor ol' Argus. Ollie called his mom and she came back early, whew! He was inconsolable. I got tears in my eyes I was so sad I couldn't help him. Ollie and I sang songs to pass the time until she came, and he would be OK until the end of every song, but then he'd cry again. Poor lil guy.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Fun day
We were attempting to make it to a Muppet movie at a local art museum today, but we didn't get there until too late due to the gay pride parade preventing us from crossing Market Street. I hope you gay people are proud of making us miss our movie!
So instead, we decided to go to the awesome awesome playground by the Yerba Buena Center for the Arts. It has a manmade stream, a fountain the kids can get into with water running out of a hippopotamus' mouth (oh man did Violet ever love that! "Miss Hippo! Miss Hippo!" she screamed happily), gigantic slides, a xylophone made out of metal pipes. Way to go, San Francisco! SF spruced up all its city parks in the last few years, right in time for us to have kids. I really appreciate them knowing we were about to procreate, and getting the parks ready for us.
We met up with Gren and Alison, Phil's friend from high school and his wife, as well as their two kids. The kids all ran around the playground, and then we went over to Beard Papa, the absolutely stunning cream puff store. I had a vanilla eclair so good I literally couldn't concentrate on any conversation until I'd eaten the whole thing and licked my fingers clean. Way to go, Beard Papa! Nice name for that store, right? Their mascot looks like Santa. Like a merciful Santa of fresh butter and cream, not that scary dude that has a list of children whose houses he will invade and leave a hunk of carbon.
Violet was tired on the way home, and sad because we wouldn't buy her the $18 pig-shaped flashlight she was coveting at the SFMOMA museum store. "My pig! My pig!" she wailed disconsolately up the street. I amused her by sitting in the backseat with her and squeezing my nose while saying "beep!" After a while, Violet demanded "Beep my nose, mama," which is a sentence I could listen to over and over again happily. I was also "stealing" her nose, and she started stealing my nose, and then she began replacing my nose with her nose. "My nose your face!" she told me happily. Excellent, Violet's nose is way cuter than mine.
So instead, we decided to go to the awesome awesome playground by the Yerba Buena Center for the Arts. It has a manmade stream, a fountain the kids can get into with water running out of a hippopotamus' mouth (oh man did Violet ever love that! "Miss Hippo! Miss Hippo!" she screamed happily), gigantic slides, a xylophone made out of metal pipes. Way to go, San Francisco! SF spruced up all its city parks in the last few years, right in time for us to have kids. I really appreciate them knowing we were about to procreate, and getting the parks ready for us.
We met up with Gren and Alison, Phil's friend from high school and his wife, as well as their two kids. The kids all ran around the playground, and then we went over to Beard Papa, the absolutely stunning cream puff store. I had a vanilla eclair so good I literally couldn't concentrate on any conversation until I'd eaten the whole thing and licked my fingers clean. Way to go, Beard Papa! Nice name for that store, right? Their mascot looks like Santa. Like a merciful Santa of fresh butter and cream, not that scary dude that has a list of children whose houses he will invade and leave a hunk of carbon.
Violet was tired on the way home, and sad because we wouldn't buy her the $18 pig-shaped flashlight she was coveting at the SFMOMA museum store. "My pig! My pig!" she wailed disconsolately up the street. I amused her by sitting in the backseat with her and squeezing my nose while saying "beep!" After a while, Violet demanded "Beep my nose, mama," which is a sentence I could listen to over and over again happily. I was also "stealing" her nose, and she started stealing my nose, and then she began replacing my nose with her nose. "My nose your face!" she told me happily. Excellent, Violet's nose is way cuter than mine.
Noisy Noises
Violet got me up too early and now I'm on the couch typing this with my eyes closed. I can identify every noise in the house! That clink clank is Bobo pulling the drain out of the tub and batting it back and forth. The slurp suck sound is Violet slugging on her sippy cup. I can hear the click of dog nails outside on the sidewalk. And I hear Phil snoring in the bedroom. Oops and there's the song at the end of Dragon Tales, time to pay attention to Violet.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
I'm in heaven
Phil took the baby to his mom's house today. He drove down with his brother, and our nephew, Noah. I've been alone in the house all day. I straightened up our family files, and now they're all neat and spare and organized. There is a gigantic box of paper ready to throw away. OK, Phil, I love you, but why would you save an Office Depot receipt from 1996?
I could be doing a lot of other things right now. The kitchen floor is disgracefully dirty, dinnertime is looming, there's always editing or writing I should be doing. But it's so quiet. It's dim in our room, and the noises of cars drifts in to me as I lie here mounded in blankets on Phil's side of the bed. My ceiling is perfectly white. I stop between every sentence and admire it. There is no one prodding me and demanding that I get up, there is no one discordantly playing a harmonica right next to my head, I am not being forced to pour milk or skin apple slices. I believe I will just continue to lie here, staring at the calm white ceiling. It is really quite lovely. To hell with the floor. And there is a really quite good pizza shop right downstairs from here. Pizza! Surely fate would not place this pizza shop right in our building if we were not meant to eat from it several times weekly.
I could be doing a lot of other things right now. The kitchen floor is disgracefully dirty, dinnertime is looming, there's always editing or writing I should be doing. But it's so quiet. It's dim in our room, and the noises of cars drifts in to me as I lie here mounded in blankets on Phil's side of the bed. My ceiling is perfectly white. I stop between every sentence and admire it. There is no one prodding me and demanding that I get up, there is no one discordantly playing a harmonica right next to my head, I am not being forced to pour milk or skin apple slices. I believe I will just continue to lie here, staring at the calm white ceiling. It is really quite lovely. To hell with the floor. And there is a really quite good pizza shop right downstairs from here. Pizza! Surely fate would not place this pizza shop right in our building if we were not meant to eat from it several times weekly.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Violet's happiest day ever
Due to my total lack of parental judgment, Violet got not one but two desserts today. We went over to the weird York Street Park, which has a big mosaic Quetzlcoatyl (sp?) and water fountains that come on and off unpredictably, proving this fact today by being shut off entirely. It was so hot out. It was so hot out that I took my shoes off and then hastily put them back on because the playground flooring was scorching. And there was the St. Francis Soda Fountain sending me its neon come-on from right across the street. I asked for a small chocolate malt, and it was indeed very small (particularly considering it was $4), and we shared it, sitting on a hump of the Quetzlcoatl and slurping contentedly.
Then later I had to go by Dianda's bakery. It's my friend Janet's bachelorette party tonight and thank the Lord she's not having some tacky affair with strippers and penis-shaped straws (you would not believe some of the accessories that come in penis shapes. I used to have a job where I worked on this party bus leading around drunk bachelorette parties from Martinez, and those girls would have penis tiaras, penis bubble guns, giant blow-up penises, deely-bopper antennae with penises on the end, t-shirts featuring penises or sometimes Life Savers that gentlemen at the club were invited to lick off the shirt. A suck for a buck, they'd say merrily, those drunk bachelorettes. So klassy. But I digress.) We are all going to a mutual friend's house for dinner and pedicures. Now isn't that nice? So much nicer than strippers. I promised to bring something sweet to the dinner, so I stopped at Dianda's and got a couple of pounds of pine nut cookies. And after Violet had spent 20 minutes patiently waiting in the bakery line, rocketing around the display and informing me that "I wan this one and this one, this one, this one," I couldn't not give her a cookie. They're the size of a thin mint anyway, how bad could it be?
Then later I had to go by Dianda's bakery. It's my friend Janet's bachelorette party tonight and thank the Lord she's not having some tacky affair with strippers and penis-shaped straws (you would not believe some of the accessories that come in penis shapes. I used to have a job where I worked on this party bus leading around drunk bachelorette parties from Martinez, and those girls would have penis tiaras, penis bubble guns, giant blow-up penises, deely-bopper antennae with penises on the end, t-shirts featuring penises or sometimes Life Savers that gentlemen at the club were invited to lick off the shirt. A suck for a buck, they'd say merrily, those drunk bachelorettes. So klassy. But I digress.) We are all going to a mutual friend's house for dinner and pedicures. Now isn't that nice? So much nicer than strippers. I promised to bring something sweet to the dinner, so I stopped at Dianda's and got a couple of pounds of pine nut cookies. And after Violet had spent 20 minutes patiently waiting in the bakery line, rocketing around the display and informing me that "I wan this one and this one, this one, this one," I couldn't not give her a cookie. They're the size of a thin mint anyway, how bad could it be?
Thursday, June 21, 2007
A Milestone
Today, for the very first time ever, Violet told me she was big.
"Violet, you can't climb up like that," I bustle over to Violet, who is attempting to imitate Quirin's climbing on the fence above the pond. "Quirin is a big girl, and she can do it just a little better. You might fall."
"I big," said Violet, drawing herself up to her full height. "I big girl."
Of course, she still couldn't climb up like Quirin could. But it was the first time she ever identified as a big girl. Usually when you ask her if she's anything else (are you a big girl? are you a tiny soft little rabbit in a rabbit hole? are you mom's precious crumb doughnut?), she will glare at you and affirm "I baby. Just baby." She is really uptight about it. Even when you ask if she's Violet, she'll say "Juuuust baby!" like you are an idiot. But if you ask her what her name is, she will tell you "Vi-let." You go figure it out.
Of course, later on when I tried to get her to repeat her big girl affirmation to Phil, she giggled and said "I just baby." So I dunno, maybe she'll go back and forth on the issue for a while. It caught at my heart a little, to hear her say that. She is a big girl already, whether she knows it or not. But she's still my little baby.
"Violet, you can't climb up like that," I bustle over to Violet, who is attempting to imitate Quirin's climbing on the fence above the pond. "Quirin is a big girl, and she can do it just a little better. You might fall."
"I big," said Violet, drawing herself up to her full height. "I big girl."
Of course, she still couldn't climb up like Quirin could. But it was the first time she ever identified as a big girl. Usually when you ask her if she's anything else (are you a big girl? are you a tiny soft little rabbit in a rabbit hole? are you mom's precious crumb doughnut?), she will glare at you and affirm "I baby. Just baby." She is really uptight about it. Even when you ask if she's Violet, she'll say "Juuuust baby!" like you are an idiot. But if you ask her what her name is, she will tell you "Vi-let." You go figure it out.
Of course, later on when I tried to get her to repeat her big girl affirmation to Phil, she giggled and said "I just baby." So I dunno, maybe she'll go back and forth on the issue for a while. It caught at my heart a little, to hear her say that. She is a big girl already, whether she knows it or not. But she's still my little baby.
Hop Hop
This morning when Phil was shaving, Violet leaned slowly around the jamb of the door, caught his eye, and said solemnly to him, "Hop hop! Hop!" And then she "hopped." She cannot hop. Her feet do not leave the ground. And then she said "I have milk now."
Today we went to a nature preserve thingy in San Mateo. I had to drive down El Camino Real to get there, because when I go on the highway I get so panicky it takes me a long time to calm down afterwards. It took like twice as long! And was ten times as fun. There was even a See's Candy on the road, but Violet was asleep, so I couldn't stop and get three raspberry cremes and one peanut butter cup. I wish I could just leave her in the damn car for the two minutes it would take to buy these gorgeous items, but I just know that the minute I leave her in the car is the minute a giant truck will smash into the parking lot, taking out the car. If the giant truck has to take out the car, I need to be in there with her. Similar logic prevents me from leaving V alone in the house when she's napping, even to nip downstairs to the coffee shop located in our apartment building to get some tea. I mean, what if a bomb were to go off just in my apartment? When the bomb goes off, it has to get both of us at once.
Anyhoo, we went to the nature preserve with Sena and Quirin and Thora. Vi has quite the obsession going with Baby Thora in theory. Ever since she made acquaintance with her on a camping trip, Violet has come to us with clasped together palms, claiming that she was holding tiny Baby Thora in her hands. "Baby Thora my hand!" she might say, for instance. But in person, Violet was much more excited by 4-year-old Quirin then 9 month old Baby Thora, and spent much of the day trotting after Quirin, trying to do everything just like Quirin. Which was cute when Quirin was running in circles around the aviary's waterfall, not as much when both girls kept dipping their hands into the spitty still water of the outdoor water fountain and running their wet hands through each other's hair.
Today we went to a nature preserve thingy in San Mateo. I had to drive down El Camino Real to get there, because when I go on the highway I get so panicky it takes me a long time to calm down afterwards. It took like twice as long! And was ten times as fun. There was even a See's Candy on the road, but Violet was asleep, so I couldn't stop and get three raspberry cremes and one peanut butter cup. I wish I could just leave her in the damn car for the two minutes it would take to buy these gorgeous items, but I just know that the minute I leave her in the car is the minute a giant truck will smash into the parking lot, taking out the car. If the giant truck has to take out the car, I need to be in there with her. Similar logic prevents me from leaving V alone in the house when she's napping, even to nip downstairs to the coffee shop located in our apartment building to get some tea. I mean, what if a bomb were to go off just in my apartment? When the bomb goes off, it has to get both of us at once.
Anyhoo, we went to the nature preserve with Sena and Quirin and Thora. Vi has quite the obsession going with Baby Thora in theory. Ever since she made acquaintance with her on a camping trip, Violet has come to us with clasped together palms, claiming that she was holding tiny Baby Thora in her hands. "Baby Thora my hand!" she might say, for instance. But in person, Violet was much more excited by 4-year-old Quirin then 9 month old Baby Thora, and spent much of the day trotting after Quirin, trying to do everything just like Quirin. Which was cute when Quirin was running in circles around the aviary's waterfall, not as much when both girls kept dipping their hands into the spitty still water of the outdoor water fountain and running their wet hands through each other's hair.
Realtime reporting of Violet's antics
I'm sitting on the bed with the laptop, watching Violet play. Dunno how long she'll let me type, but while she does, I have to relate how weird she is being. She has lined up all of her stuffed animals on the bed, facedown (they look like a little row of executed prisoners), and on top of them she has put other stuffed animals facedown. Then in front of each pair she has placed a book. Now she's getting out other dolls.
Violet: "This one. This one. Me...I don't know. Two babies. TWO! BABIES! Come over here! There you go! No! OK! Just with me. Meow meow meow meow meow meow meow --" to the tune of the alphabet song. "Come here! Just me. Two babies. OK. OK." Then she stands up and lifts her arms heroically up into the air. "Aaaaand GO!"
Now she's over at the toys again, shaking her egg shaker and playing the harmonica at the same time. Wild drumming! Gene Krupa over there, drumming on the toybox. Pow pow de pow POW!
Violet: "Oh, come out. Why? Why?" She's looking for more stuffed animals now. There are 12 lined up on the bed.
Violet: "How do you do it? Please do it. I'm pink. Doh-doh, baybeee. Otay. Otay. With my baby. I don't know? Hey-ee."
This is like a lunatic talking. This is like yesterday when we were on the bus and out of nowhere this kooky guy crunching ice across the aisle asked me about the musical "Jersey Boys" and how he didn't *really* think it was the real Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons playing in S.F. and that sent him into a whole rant. It sounded sort of like Violet does now.
Violet: "Ready and set and go!" Throws one stuffed animal across the room, then stares at the others menacingly, swaying her hips back and forth. "Sorry, Mommy. Pants....aha!"
Violet. "I'm deeaaaad." Holding the black Bratz doll. Oh man! I knew it was a mistake to get her that book about the dead bird. "Open that, open that." The grave??? Creepy.
Runs to the toybox, grabs plastic food. Runs in a circle. "Round n round n round." Ooops now she's saying "Mama git up! Mama git up!" This entry may be over. No wait, she's over by the plastic kitchen, shoving the plastic food in the microwave. Banging it together. "Git up, Mama, git up!" OK I gotta go.
Violet: "This one. This one. Me...I don't know. Two babies. TWO! BABIES! Come over here! There you go! No! OK! Just with me. Meow meow meow meow meow meow meow --" to the tune of the alphabet song. "Come here! Just me. Two babies. OK. OK." Then she stands up and lifts her arms heroically up into the air. "Aaaaand GO!"
Now she's over at the toys again, shaking her egg shaker and playing the harmonica at the same time. Wild drumming! Gene Krupa over there, drumming on the toybox. Pow pow de pow POW!
Violet: "Oh, come out. Why? Why?" She's looking for more stuffed animals now. There are 12 lined up on the bed.
Violet: "How do you do it? Please do it. I'm pink. Doh-doh, baybeee. Otay. Otay. With my baby. I don't know? Hey-ee."
This is like a lunatic talking. This is like yesterday when we were on the bus and out of nowhere this kooky guy crunching ice across the aisle asked me about the musical "Jersey Boys" and how he didn't *really* think it was the real Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons playing in S.F. and that sent him into a whole rant. It sounded sort of like Violet does now.
Violet: "Ready and set and go!" Throws one stuffed animal across the room, then stares at the others menacingly, swaying her hips back and forth. "Sorry, Mommy. Pants....aha!"
Violet. "I'm deeaaaad." Holding the black Bratz doll. Oh man! I knew it was a mistake to get her that book about the dead bird. "Open that, open that." The grave??? Creepy.
Runs to the toybox, grabs plastic food. Runs in a circle. "Round n round n round." Ooops now she's saying "Mama git up! Mama git up!" This entry may be over. No wait, she's over by the plastic kitchen, shoving the plastic food in the microwave. Banging it together. "Git up, Mama, git up!" OK I gotta go.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Sometimes I still feel young
There are nights, like tonight, when I go out to meet someone for dinner, and I don't feel so tired it's like my face is sagging right off my skull. I'm able to order a drink, and I'm able to find something besides Violet to talk about. And then me and my friend walked down the street to the bar, feeling for all the world like two carefree and sassy young ladies. We had a couple of drinks...we ran into some old college friends...we talked about old times. Then I hailed a cab and went home, appreciating the hills and houses of my beautiful city as we drove through the dark streets. Some nights the horrendous rent we pay to live here is still worth it, and I still feel like the vibrant girl I once was. And still, very rarely, sometimes still am.
Meanwhile, at home, Violet is having an uncomfortable number of tantrums. Today was a huge one. Vi had awakened thirsty from a long deep nap.
"Want milk, mama!"
"Cow's milk in a sippy cup, or mama's milk?'
"Cow milk."
"Honey, you've had lots of milk today. I'm worried you're going to get constipated. I'm going to bring you some water too."
"No water! No water!" Violet shrieked shrilly.
"It's not a big deal hon, I'll bring you two cups and you'll drink from both." I went to the kitchen to fill the cups. God I'm sick of washing out sippy cup parts, it'll be a happy day when she uses regular damn cups.
Meanwhile, she's in her bedroom ranting. "NO water! No water! No WATER!" Going completely nuts. By the time I come in with the milk (and the water), she's backed up against her dresser, screaming. I try to get her to calm down.
"Look," I say, flopping on the bed. "There's the milk, right there on your art table. If you don't want the water, just don't drink it. "
No! That's not enough! The water still exists, and it's still on her art table, and that just cannot be borne. She continued to scream "NO WATER!" at the top of her lungs for a good seven minutes while I stared at her, mystified, trying not to laugh as she turned as red as a stop sign. I finally got her to come over and I hugged her and blew on her poor hot head as she cried in my arms.
"You don't have to drink the water," I said, helplessly. Giving in, as always.
"Water please!" she said cheerily. And she took the water glass and drank it, and ignored the milk. I was exhausted. She was happy. Children are strange. What was that all about?
Meanwhile, at home, Violet is having an uncomfortable number of tantrums. Today was a huge one. Vi had awakened thirsty from a long deep nap.
"Want milk, mama!"
"Cow's milk in a sippy cup, or mama's milk?'
"Cow milk."
"Honey, you've had lots of milk today. I'm worried you're going to get constipated. I'm going to bring you some water too."
"No water! No water!" Violet shrieked shrilly.
"It's not a big deal hon, I'll bring you two cups and you'll drink from both." I went to the kitchen to fill the cups. God I'm sick of washing out sippy cup parts, it'll be a happy day when she uses regular damn cups.
Meanwhile, she's in her bedroom ranting. "NO water! No water! No WATER!" Going completely nuts. By the time I come in with the milk (and the water), she's backed up against her dresser, screaming. I try to get her to calm down.
"Look," I say, flopping on the bed. "There's the milk, right there on your art table. If you don't want the water, just don't drink it. "
No! That's not enough! The water still exists, and it's still on her art table, and that just cannot be borne. She continued to scream "NO WATER!" at the top of her lungs for a good seven minutes while I stared at her, mystified, trying not to laugh as she turned as red as a stop sign. I finally got her to come over and I hugged her and blew on her poor hot head as she cried in my arms.
"You don't have to drink the water," I said, helplessly. Giving in, as always.
"Water please!" she said cheerily. And she took the water glass and drank it, and ignored the milk. I was exhausted. She was happy. Children are strange. What was that all about?
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
She Freaks Out Over the Smallest Things
I was playing on my computer today, ignoring her as she watched "Dragon Tales." From 5 to 6 is TV time, Mom-gets-a-break time, and sometimes, on the worst days, it's-finally-time-for-a-cocktail time. But Violet wanted attention.
"Stand up!" she hectors me. "Get up! Get up! Get up!" I get the feeling I could sit here for 100 years and she'd just keep saying it every two seconds. "Get up! Get up!" I get up. She wants to hold my hands and spin in a circle.
"Are we dancing?" I ask her. No, we are not. We are spinning in a tight little circle, and I'm getting vertigo. Also, I'm not holding her hands right. "Like this?" I ask. She rips her hands from mine. "Nooooo!"
"Like this?" I grab her wrists. That's not right either. "Like this?" I hold her fists in my hands. That is so wrong, so very very wrong that she has to hurl herself onto the purple chair.
"Nooooo!" she rants. "Noooooo! Nooooo!" Hey, I remember this! This whole thing where she has a really clear idea about what needs to be done, only she can't do it. I remember this from 18 months! And then I thought she grew out of it. But I guess she didn't. She beats her little fist on the purple chair with fury. She goes and hits the edge of the door (which is blameless, but hey) in pure fury. "NO! NO! NO!"
I agree with you Violet. I vote yes on no.
"Stand up!" she hectors me. "Get up! Get up! Get up!" I get the feeling I could sit here for 100 years and she'd just keep saying it every two seconds. "Get up! Get up!" I get up. She wants to hold my hands and spin in a circle.
"Are we dancing?" I ask her. No, we are not. We are spinning in a tight little circle, and I'm getting vertigo. Also, I'm not holding her hands right. "Like this?" I ask. She rips her hands from mine. "Nooooo!"
"Like this?" I grab her wrists. That's not right either. "Like this?" I hold her fists in my hands. That is so wrong, so very very wrong that she has to hurl herself onto the purple chair.
"Nooooo!" she rants. "Noooooo! Nooooo!" Hey, I remember this! This whole thing where she has a really clear idea about what needs to be done, only she can't do it. I remember this from 18 months! And then I thought she grew out of it. But I guess she didn't. She beats her little fist on the purple chair with fury. She goes and hits the edge of the door (which is blameless, but hey) in pure fury. "NO! NO! NO!"
I agree with you Violet. I vote yes on no.
Translation Services Provided
I understand just about every word Violet says, but no one else does. How could they? I'm the only one who knows that "jah pees" means "pajamas," and "dad-o's" means "please turn on Dragon Tales right now, Mom, or I will begin a keening wail that will take the finish off the furniture."
This was brought home to me Sunday, when Rusty came over for a visit. I couldn't understand Scarlett at all! But Rusty did.
Me: "Scarlett, would you like some nuts? Some pistachio nuts?"
Scarlett:
Rusty: "She said she's not sure if she's hungry."
Me: "Violet, what about you? Nuts? Pretzels?"
Violet: "Yeah yeah prets in dunkee bow."
Rusty (laughing): "What?"
Me: "She said she wants pretzels in her monkey bowl."
Scarlett: "I too pret ah my pa."
Me: "What?!"
Rusty: "She says she wants the pretzels on her plate."
It was like working at the U.N. Violet and Scarlett are very lucky to have their translators at the ready, to communicate important news to the world. For instance, Violet needed her milk in the PINK sippy cup. Not the blue one. This was highly vital, as communicated to me by wide-open eyes and very loud "NO NO NO NO NO"s. NOT THE BLUE CUP. THE PINK ONE. Luckily, since I had already given the pink cup to Scarlett, Violet was completely OK with taking the blue cup, since toddlers are so flexible and easygoing. HA HA HA HA HA.
This was brought home to me Sunday, when Rusty came over for a visit. I couldn't understand Scarlett at all! But Rusty did.
Me: "Scarlett, would you like some nuts? Some pistachio nuts?"
Scarlett:
Rusty: "She said she's not sure if she's hungry."
Me: "Violet, what about you? Nuts? Pretzels?"
Violet: "Yeah yeah prets in dunkee bow."
Rusty (laughing): "What?"
Me: "She said she wants pretzels in her monkey bowl."
Scarlett: "I too pret ah my pa."
Me: "What?!"
Rusty: "She says she wants the pretzels on her plate."
It was like working at the U.N. Violet and Scarlett are very lucky to have their translators at the ready, to communicate important news to the world. For instance, Violet needed her milk in the PINK sippy cup. Not the blue one. This was highly vital, as communicated to me by wide-open eyes and very loud "NO NO NO NO NO"s. NOT THE BLUE CUP. THE PINK ONE. Luckily, since I had already given the pink cup to Scarlett, Violet was completely OK with taking the blue cup, since toddlers are so flexible and easygoing. HA HA HA HA HA.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
I Know We're Wasting Time
We're supposed to be nursing, I know. But she's being so cute. Phil is in the kitchen, banging things around. He's in a hurry to get her into bed. He's Had Enough. I'm sorry, Phil, I can't resist.
Violet's eyes are wild. I grab her left arm and lift it up. "Boooop!" I say with a rising tone. And then I bring it back down. "Booooop." Falling tone. Violet grabs my arm back. "Boooop! Boooop!" We lift our arms together up and down. She laughs so hard I can see the blank space in her mouth, where the teeth used to be. I am getting used to the way it looks; she looks kind of like Tiny Baby Violet again, not such a bad thing.
"Let's point!" I tell her, tiring of the arm-lifting game. "We can point up! And down! And now I'll point at you!" She swats my hand away, complaining "No point!"
"OK then, you point at me!" I suggest. She likes that. She points right into my mouth.
"I dentist," she tells me.
"Baby dentist. Baby dentist, DDS." I obediently open my mouth so she can check me.
"Nursing, nursing!" she demands, pulling at my shirt.
"Violet, ask me nicely." This is something we're working on.
"Nursing please, this side," she says, her eyes so honest and limpid and pure that I want to cry.
"Yes, baby, yes, my nursing baby. Mamas love to nurse their babies, that's what mamas love to do." I snuggle into her hair. What does she smell like? Juicy Fruit gum? Cotton T-shirts and nutmeg? Her hair is soft silky wisp, baby hair still.
"Meow!" she meows. She told me earlier this week that her cat name is Sophie.
"Sophie cat! You came to visit me! Do you want a cat treat?" She giggles and gobbles from the palm of my hand. She is wearing the new pajamas we bought her for $1 at a garage sale, weird looking Japanese ones with propeller-beanie-wearing robots marked "Robot A" all over them.
"I love your new pajamas, Sophie cat!"
"Meow, yes!"
"Can you talk in a robot voice, Robot A?" I ask in a robot voice.
She clears her throat. "Yes. I robot." She deepens her voice. "IIIIII robot." It's not a bad robot voice, considering.
"Robot A, is that your name, Robot? Robot A?"
"Yes, robot."
"Violet, are you ready to brush your teeth?" Phil intrudes. He hears us giggling from the kitchen.
"No Daddy, nursin'," says Violet. But the second Phil walks out she begs me for "Two mon, mama! Two mon!" That means she wants me to walk my fingers up and down her stomach. She laughs rapturously.
"Hey, I think this is a cave! Echo, echo!" says one of the two men, in his high squeaky voice, pausing by her ear. "And I think this is a bird's nest," the other one offers. "let's go to sleep!" They snore.
"Wake up!" shrieks Violet suddenly, with her big booming toddler laugh. I reach under her and roll her on top of me. "I'm awake! I'm awake!"
I never want this kid to go to sleep. I could do this all night.
Violet's eyes are wild. I grab her left arm and lift it up. "Boooop!" I say with a rising tone. And then I bring it back down. "Booooop." Falling tone. Violet grabs my arm back. "Boooop! Boooop!" We lift our arms together up and down. She laughs so hard I can see the blank space in her mouth, where the teeth used to be. I am getting used to the way it looks; she looks kind of like Tiny Baby Violet again, not such a bad thing.
"Let's point!" I tell her, tiring of the arm-lifting game. "We can point up! And down! And now I'll point at you!" She swats my hand away, complaining "No point!"
"OK then, you point at me!" I suggest. She likes that. She points right into my mouth.
"I dentist," she tells me.
"Baby dentist. Baby dentist, DDS." I obediently open my mouth so she can check me.
"Nursing, nursing!" she demands, pulling at my shirt.
"Violet, ask me nicely." This is something we're working on.
"Nursing please, this side," she says, her eyes so honest and limpid and pure that I want to cry.
"Yes, baby, yes, my nursing baby. Mamas love to nurse their babies, that's what mamas love to do." I snuggle into her hair. What does she smell like? Juicy Fruit gum? Cotton T-shirts and nutmeg? Her hair is soft silky wisp, baby hair still.
"Meow!" she meows. She told me earlier this week that her cat name is Sophie.
"Sophie cat! You came to visit me! Do you want a cat treat?" She giggles and gobbles from the palm of my hand. She is wearing the new pajamas we bought her for $1 at a garage sale, weird looking Japanese ones with propeller-beanie-wearing robots marked "Robot A" all over them.
"I love your new pajamas, Sophie cat!"
"Meow, yes!"
"Can you talk in a robot voice, Robot A?" I ask in a robot voice.
She clears her throat. "Yes. I robot." She deepens her voice. "IIIIII robot." It's not a bad robot voice, considering.
"Robot A, is that your name, Robot? Robot A?"
"Yes, robot."
"Violet, are you ready to brush your teeth?" Phil intrudes. He hears us giggling from the kitchen.
"No Daddy, nursin'," says Violet. But the second Phil walks out she begs me for "Two mon, mama! Two mon!" That means she wants me to walk my fingers up and down her stomach. She laughs rapturously.
"Hey, I think this is a cave! Echo, echo!" says one of the two men, in his high squeaky voice, pausing by her ear. "And I think this is a bird's nest," the other one offers. "let's go to sleep!" They snore.
"Wake up!" shrieks Violet suddenly, with her big booming toddler laugh. I reach under her and roll her on top of me. "I'm awake! I'm awake!"
I never want this kid to go to sleep. I could do this all night.
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