Nice try, toots

Violet just tried to outsmart me...two year olds are so NON stealthy. I'm letting her watch her morning dose of "Dragon Tales," and she watched the one about the caterpoozle and started demanding her own caterpoozle. It's a rainbow caterpillar with a pink nose, and it gets lost all the damn time. Violet! I can't keep up with 9,000 toys and be able to produce them on a dime!

Anyhoo, I tried to put her off with "Daddy will find it when he wakes up," and then of course she wanted to wake up Daddy. Whom I'm letting sleep in a bit, so no you don't, little missy. Then she tried to slowly back from the couch to the bedroom door, holding my gaze the whole time. Did she think I wouldn't notice her moving backwards?

"Violet, what are you doing?" I ask in my you'd-better-watch-it tone.

"I'm just standing right over hee-yah," she answers, very unconvincingly. Yeah, sure, you love to just stand in the hall. That could be true.

I'm so very, very proud

While Phil was brushing Violet's teeth tonight, she spontaneously broke out with a chorus of "Copacabana."

"At the Copa, Copa bana!"

All of my many hours of belting out songs to her have not been wasted! I dashed over to finish the song, lifting my arms Broadway-style, voice volume level 10. "Music and passion were always the fashion at the Cooooooooopa--don't fall in love with herrrrr!" Violet lifted her arms with me. Hurray! I've got a lil singer!

In other news, when she took a bath tonight she was watering her foam apple and saying in wonder "It growing! It getting bigger and bigger! It growing!" Then when she got out and I baby burrito'd her, we sang the ABCs together all the way through.

In other other news, she just went to bed with Phil and forgot to demand her sleepytime nursing session. Fluke or some kind of sign?

There's an echo in here

I love how Violet repeats after me. She's a total little myna bird. We were on our way to a 6-year-old's birthday party, and I was telling her there was going to be a carousel, and she was doing her usual "No no no, too 'cary, I fall," jazz when I said "But you LOVE the carousel." Then she shut it with the whining and said repeatedly "I LOVE carousel! I LOVE carousel!" When I got sick of that, I put on the CD Cole and Chris made her for her first birthday. It begins with Cole saying hi and happy birthday and he loves her. She made me repeat that track upwards of 20 times, and each time sang out "Happy birthday!" in concert with Cole. "It's my birthday! My birthday! Yaaay! I have cake! And candles! And blooooow! Yaaaay!"

"Mama," she interrupted herself. "Can I take off toos?" (shoes)

"Yeah, sure go ahead."

"My mama says, yeah sure go ahead take off toos! Yeah sure, go ahead. Go ahead!"

It is a very agreeable state of insanity.

Fashion baby

Tonight I went to a Project-Runway themed event at the Castro. Carole was there with Iris, who got to meet Santino from Season Two.

I can't WAIT until Violet is old enough to do such things with me. Imagine! I will have a partner in crime!

In some parts of the world, love means strangling tigers

In the car:

"Cole, do you love me?"

"Yeah, I love you like I want to PUNCH you!"

"No, I love you like I want to hug and kiss you."

Silence. Then:

"Joyce, do you know that if you were in San Francisco and a tiger came after you, I would strangle him for you."

"Oh my. My. That is very...sweet. I think."

Now I'm sitting listening to Violet talk to her toys.

"Go up there. Not in the swimming pool tonight. It's just pink. It says pink...peek a boo! Peeeeek a boo! Time to get out. OK, OK, no baby. Baby, baby, go on the swimming pool tonight--" (Violet was very impressed that I let her swim in the hotel swimming pool at Daytona well after dark). "Poozy, it's poozy upside down! You come with me. One, two, three, jump! One two, free, whooo! It cold. Whooooooo! Here come me!" She is clearly acting out pool fantasies. She got a lot out of swimming in Daytona; she also got fixated on the motorboat game. Of late, she wants me to play Motorboat Motorboat with her, and she revolves around in a circle saying "Motorboat motorboat, upside down. Motorboat motorboat step on gas!" and then I pick her up and whirl her around.

An email from my mama

Hi,

I couldn’t let Aunt Pat take the credit for Strawberry Shortcake. I bought that and I think when I first saw it I didn’t like it either. Remember the night Violet stayed up to midnight and started watching it again before she fell to sleep? I didn’t like the Pie Man getting a bad rap either. Perhaps the Country Bears that Aunt Pat actually brought (if you got home with it), would be much better.

I guess by now you know the doll didn’t make it back either. Tell Violet I put her to bed in her bed to wait for her return. She is going to have a nice long nap. I read all the latest blogs and I don’t want you to be blaming Pattie for the Shortcake thing. In all fairness, who would let a Pie Man be a villain??? You don’t get to view these things before buying. I think Strawberry Shortcake should be retired.

Love,
Mom

She loves me!

Violet told me she loved me for the very first uncoached time today. I was carrying her into the mall, we were meeting Carole and the girls at Chevy's for lunch, and when I picked her up she started kissing me softly on the lips, rubbing her nose against mine. "I love you, Mama! I love you! I love you!" Right there in my parking lot of JC Penney's my heart shot out of my chest and into the sky.

When I was pregnant and heaving myself meatily from one point to another on the 38 Geary bus, I saw a mother with her daughter on her lap. She was about 2. They were making faces at each other, ridiculous faces imitating each other, and then they'd laugh uproariously. Like no one else in the world was on that bus. Oh, how I envied that mother! How I wanted what she had! And now I have it. What a blessing on my head, what great good luck raining down on me.

Strawberry Shortcake deconstructed

Violet has become obsessed with the movie "Sweet Dreams," no, not the Cheech & Chong movie about pot. Not even the Patsy Cline bio-pic. This is a full-length animated feature purchased for her by her indulgent Aunt Pattie (Violet really has an embarrassment of riches, toy- and DVD-wise) featuring Strawberry Shortcake and her desserty posse (Angel Cake, Apple Dumpling, Lemon Meringue, Blueberry Muffin, etc. etc.).

Pros of Strawberry Shortcake movie:

Violet will stay quiet and focused on it for more than an hour.

Cons of Strawberry Shortcake movie:

The villain of the story is the evil Pie Man. I can not be OK with a movie that demonizes pies. It's like setting the American flag on fire. He just wants to make a little pie. Is that so much to ask?

In other news, one of the first things Violet said this morning was "I miss Gaga." I gulped a little. I miss her, too.

Damn you, Funtainer!

I have conceived of an unreasoning hatred for the Funtainer, which is a small and cleverly designed thermos with a pop-up straw that young children find easy to use. I bought Violet a Hello Kitty one some months ago, and just before we were about to leave on our vacation, the Funtainer rolled off the sofa and heavily onto my foot. Argh. Oh man, it hurt so bad, and worst of all was the knowledge that this was all caused by a damned thermos. Just a thermos! Not a car accident, or an anvil landing on my foot. A thermos.

Two weeks later, my foot is still swollen and painful. I never want to see that Funtainer again. I have hidden it away on the shelf. I'm punishing it with a time out. Maybe someday when my foot is healed, I can face it again.

Back home

Phil says Violet's talking much better. I guess it's true; it just happens so gradually I don't get a shock of it. Today while we were eating our strangely timed lunch/dinner (dunch?) at the table, Violet said "Mama I want sippy cup with milk on it! From refrigerator! REFRIGERATOR!" That is not a sentence that could have come out of her a few months ago.

Now we're home and even though she's blue-circled from tiredness, she's not giving up. She is manipulating the remote control, hoping to make "Dragon Tales" come on. Sorry, Violet, that is the VCR's remote control, and the VCR doesn't even work anymore. Now she has sat down on the rug, she's gone and gotten Pinky, and she's set him up on the rug next to her. She puts her arm around Pinky. Now she grabs him by the throat and takes him to the bookshelf. Now she's sitting on the milk crate of CDs. Why do we have our CDs in a milk crate anyway? Pathetic. Soft music is playing on the radio, and we're all sitting staring into space. Phil's mouth is open 1.5 centimeters. We are all smudgy with tiredness, but when we tried to lie down and sleep, Violet kept prying Phil's eyes open and screaming "Goodbyes!" (which she thinks means "surprise!")

Now she has grabbed Phil's hand. "Sit over here," she instructs.

"Now what?" says Daddy.

"Sit like this, sit like this!" They face the window.

"Should we face the bus?" Phil asks, as the 21 Hayes goes by outside. "My, what tiny toes you have!" he says admiringly, twiddling her sweet pink feet. She squirms away.

"Watch TV?" she suggests. Phil doesn't take the hint. "You a baby now," she tells him. "You a baby." She stuffs Pinky into his shirt. Then she puts him in his hoodie hood. Phil's face is impassive. "Walk little baby, walk!" she demands of Pinky, then runs in a circle around Phil.

The whoopee cushion is out. She steps on it. Sometimes when she does this, she will make a shocked face and exclaim "I faht," or perhaps "My butt! Faht!" But now she just treads on it silently.

Beached

I missed a couple of days, and now I’m at my mom’s house in Tampa. She and my Aunt Pattie came out to Daytona and shared a hotel room on the beach; Dave and Kiki stayed in another room.

It was really a lovely little vacation. I had no idea how much Vi would like the beach. In the mornings, I would slather her with sunscreen and sausage her into her little yellow bathing suit and we’d go right on down. There were beach chairs and umbrellas for rent, but the guy didn’t come around for the $25 until 1 p.m., so mostly we just sat there until lunchtime for free and then cleared out. Tacky! But $25, hey. Dave and Kiki would appear around 10, and we’d all go into the water for a while. Dave kept bringing little gadgets for Violet to play with, like waterguns.

“Don’t you shoot me!” he warned her. “Don’t you shoot!” And of course she would, laughing mightily. I think her relationship with Uncle Dave caught fire this trip. She was afraid of him last time; now whenever he walked away from her she’d shrill “Uncle David, Uncle David!” She had fun with her aunt and uncle, digging a little swimming pool on the beach.

“Ah, what are you dooooing?” said Kiki, mock-upset. “You have to take the dirt out of the hole. Out! Don’t throw it back in! This is no way to run a railroad.”

“Run railroad,” agreed Violet, nodding her head. “Swim poo.” She put her feet in and tromped down the sand gleefully.

I miss the beach already. I haven’t washed Violet’s hair yet and she smells like the seashore; I’ll be sad when that smell’s gone and the last of the beach with it. Back here in Tampa it’s been raining, and I feel worn out. My mom, however, is a champion; she cooks for us and is the only human on earth besides Phil who actually offers to change Vi’s diaper, or “her pants,” as mom calls it. She’s so good at playing with Violet that I can get long strings of things done; books read, food made.

Last night I cut the potatoes while Mom and Vi played in the living room. “Let’s get in the car and go to the store,” suggested Mom, indicating the swivel chair. They sat together. “What will we get?” Mom asked. “Nanas, milk, bokly,” answered Violet. “OK, then! Bananas, milk and broccoli! Here we go!” They swivel together.

“Toot toot!” says Mom, blowing the horn. “Toot toot,” echoes Violet, faintly. "I need my baby!"

"Of course, of course, we must bring the baby," says Mom, hauling one of twelve stuffed animals up to the "car." Violet wails. "Whoops, guess I got the wrong one," says Mom.

"Don't you ever get tired of being so very very wrong?" I retort from the kitchen.

Mom brings Pinky onto the chair, and Violet is satisfied. The good friends have their heads together, laughing. I make a picture in my head, this I want to remember.

1-2-3-wheeee!

We spent almost the whole entire day at the beach. David and I had a big fight in which we each accused the other of not making time to spend together, so I was determined to relax about her nap schedule and just hang out with the fam. Lovely! Violet was too freaked out by the big water to go back in; she mostly sat underneath the beach umbrella and dug in the sand. At lunchtime I traipsed down the beach to get a burger and brought her back a popsicle from the ice cream man who'd just driven by (they let you drive on the beach here, crazy). By the time I returned I found that the ice cream man's trajectory had already sent them past Vi, and David had bought her a Sponge Bob ice cream treat she was allowing to melt down her arm. Ha. I helped her eat the popsicle.

Later V dug a big hole in the sand. The other day Dad had helped her dig a hole and had claimed they were going to dig to China.

"I hear them down there!" he said, cocking his ear. "Helloooo? Ding sing soo chow hoy!" he answered himself back faintly.

Violet was very impressed by this, so much so that today she kept trying to talk down into her hole, covering her face with sand. "Hello? Chinee peep?" she calls. Perhaps there is a small Chinese child doing this exact same thing on a beach in China.

When she got grouchy, I took her over to the pool where she made a two year old friend. She'd want me to take her into the center of the pool and throw her into the air "1-2-3-wheeee!" style. Then she wanted to go back to Olivia and hold hands with her. Getting thrown, holding hands, an inexorable cycle I repeated 11 times.

Almost lost her

We were out in the waves, and I noticed things were getting choppier. Tide's coming in. It'll swallow our stuff on the beach if I'm not wary; the guy who rented us a dune buggy the other day told us a story about someone parking is Jeep where the tide came in, and the water took it away into the ocean "just like it was a boogie board!"

"I think we'd better go in," I tell Violet, who is hopping up and down against me.

"No no no!"

"OK, two minutes." I hop over the swell of one wave, but don't see the big one behind it. Before I know it it's towering over me, big, inescapable, like my tsunami nightmares. BAM! It slams into us, knocking us down, knocking my glasses off, knocking her out of my arms. I grab on to one edge of her T-shirt and hold on to my glasses with the other hand. I hold on so tight, the whole ocean couldn't drag her away from me. When the wave recedes she is screaming and sobbing, water in her eyes and nose. I stagger up on the beach and lie on the sand. My heart is pounding, toes and fingers tingling. I almost lost her that time. I can't breathe. "It's OK, Vibee. it's OK. It's OK." And it is, but it isn't. We spend the rest of the morning up at the pool.

Mermaids

Last night, just before I went to sleep, they set off fireworks along the beach. I went out to the balcony and sat there to watch them flowering in the sky, reflected on the water. Inside Violet was sleeping peacefully in the big bed in the nice hotel room we got. I missed her. Nothing is as good without showing it to Violet. I imagined her oohing and aaahing with me. They had yellow and purple fireworks that shot into the shapes of triangles. How would one do that? I think I need to learn more about fireworks. Then there were the crackling ones. Those are my favorites, I love the sizzle.

This morning I got up and (grumpily, I stayed up too late) hustled Dad and Susan and Vi down to the beach. Dad sat down under a beach umbrella, but I just threw my stuff down and took V right down to the water. Heaven! Every single time I go to the west coast beaches I expect it to feel like the Atlantic, lapping non-threateningly at my toes. It never does. The water was foamy and grey-green, a little cooler than the air, perfect. Violet was scared by the waves.

"No no no no no!" she started to run back out of the water.

"I'll hold you," I told her. My mom used to do this exact thing to me. I got out above my waist, hopping up every time a wave came. Violet relaxed against me, clinging like a monkey.

"See, first you feel the water sucking you in," I let us drift towards the wave, "then you see the wave gathering up, then you hop right over the wave!"

"Hop, Mommy, hop!" she screamed gleefully. She laughed her gurgling laugh every time I hopped. So I hopped more, and I danced and twirled. "Whennnn you are in looooooove, it's the loveliest night of the yeeeeeeear," I sang. People all around. Sorry, people. Daddy is watching from the beach. He looks relaxed and content; I'm suffused with gratitude to be here right now.

A stray wave hits Violet in the face, so I bring her back up the beach. "See we'll sit right here and let the little waves break over our toes," I explain to her.

"Yeah, toes," she returns. "Big water."

The rough waves uncover little mollusks that bury themselves rapidly in the sand when the water washes away. It's neat to see them go under. One second it looks like the beach is covered with pebbles, the next all you see are clam butts disappearing under the ground. As I have just discovered (I love the Internet), these are coquina clams. here is a lovely picture. Also according to the Internet:

"Coquinas (Donax) live at the surf line and between the pounding waves use their muscular foot to burrow into the sand like mole crabs to feed on microscopic creatures between the particles."

They are reportedly good eating, used in chowders and broths. But whatevs, they're pretty to watch. Yay coquinas.

The only one in the pool

Dad and Susan were unspeakably nice to me today, paying for an hour massage in a posh spa. I lay there having my muscles kneaded, selfishly silent. Then I went in the hot tub, and sauna and finally finished up with a swim. The sky was dark; it was about to rain. The clouds boiled up in the sky, looking like a pit of elephants. I did 20 laps as quickly as I could, willing my ever-present stress away. Most times I can feel it at the base of my neck. It feels like bees buzzing, with my brain following it in circles: "Don't forget to pay your credit card bill! Isn't it time to make a doctor's appointment for Violet? Shit, I forgot to call somebody back yesterday, I know it!" Etc. etc. My neck feels light now. My arms are tired from swooping through the water.

I float on my back in the pool, watching the sky. No one is around. I am the only one in the pool. It is like the images I focus on to make myself go to sleep; my favorite one being me alone on a beach with only my footsteps disturbing the smooth, white sand. It is silent. All I hear is the ebb and flow of water in my ears. It's only when I get a relief from the stress that I realize how much I carry; sometimes in the afternoons I feel like my heart's beating too fast, like I'm dizzy. I'll never get it all done, I'll never have the laundry finished and dinner done and the kitchen floor clean and my editing work done perfectly, and Violet happy at the same time. It's not too much to do, but somehow it feels like it.

I float. Wind paints my cheeks and ruffles the water. Thunder sounds and I reluctantly scramble out of the pool. It's 5 o' clock, the hour I designated for myself as the responsible hour to return home. When I get there, my cousin-by-marriage Lori is there with her two kids, my second cousins, Kyle, 14, and Hannah, 10. Violet's so excited to play with them that she gives me a perfunctory hug and rushes right back over to them. They pick out bead necklaces for her to wear and wrestle her gently. They're so sweet to Violet. She's in heaven. Sitting here, slumped on the couch, the buzzing bees seem far away. I experience joy.

I wish there were a way to tell Dad and Susan how good this feels, how huge it is to lay down the 100 ton weight I carry every day. "Thank you" doesn't seem to cut it. Instead, I made some decisions in the pool, where I could finallly think. I'm ready to make some changes. I don't like living with this stress, feeling secretly like I'm almost always ready to burst into tears. It's too much. It's time to do something about it.

Granddaddy tells a story

I'm lying in one of the twin bed while Granddaddy and Violet are in the other. Phil usually puts Vi to bed at home (we started this system when we no longer wanted her to nurse after she brushed her teeth for fear of further decay), and she chose Granddaddy to sub for him tonight. But after 45 minutes of him reading and snuggling and telling stories, she's started demanding "I want my mama!" and crying. He bargains with her. She agrees to go to sleep if I just come in the room. So here I am. Dad's got a flashlight he's training on the ceiling.

"When I was a little boy," he starts his story, "I had these weird growths on my back."

I'm already laughing. I know where he's going with this story. "And everyone was worried about me. But one day I said to them, these aren't growths, they're wings! And I can fly, just like a bird!" Dad makes shadow wings on the ceiling and Violet flaps her arms excitedly. "Just like bird!" she agrees.

"And I would fly all over the city," says Granddaddy, his shadow wings flapping. "Sometimes I would swoop down and see animals, like, um, what can I make here? A dog!"

"Ruff ruff!" says Violet.

"And um, a duck! Quack quack!" Dad's duck looks more like a dinosaur.

Violet is laughing and excited. She'll never go to sleep this way. But how can I interrupt this moment? He wiggles his two fingers in the air. "These are two little bugs! Barney and Betty. And they're bun bugs! They want to run right into your little butt!" She is cackling madly as the "bugs" run up her leg to tickle her.

"No, no!" she says. But I think she likes the little bugs. And her Granddaddy, who tells such good stories. His eyes are soft when he looks at her. He nestles down next to her happily, exactly where he wants to be. I know just how he feels.

Naked and out of town

I'm in Jacksonville visiting my Dad and stepmom right now. I just got in at 8 a.m. and though we had nearly perfect flights (Violet slept during the five hours of our longest flight; slept the whole way! I had to wake her up to deplane!), I had only slept a few hours last night. I was pretty pooped today. Hopefully I wasn't too cranky. I'm really happy to be here.

We went to the library today, which was fun. Got a huge stack of books for Violet. Later when we were at the house, one of those huge Florida rainstorms started up. I took Violet outside to watch the rain and lightning. She excitedly requested she "go naking in the rain." I took off her clothes and gave her an umbrella; she didn't much like the driving rain, but when it died down a bit we went squelching through the puddles in the yard. We worked our way through the back yard and into the front, but neighbors kept driving by and looking shocked at the naked baby in the yard. So I took her back to the back yard. There was a huge rainbow in the sky, a great big arch. "Rainbow!" said Violet, every time she caught sight of it, excited anew each time. "Rainbow!"

While Dad was grilling salmon for dinner, he asked Violet who she liked and she said "I like my Mama best," making me cry. Then 20 minutes later I asked her if she loved me (never ask!) and she said "I like my baby" (meaning Pinky) "best." Ouch. She was really sweet today though, playing with her granddaddy, dumping a small trash can full of Mardi Gras beads over his head over and over again and giggling cutely. Mimi and Granddaddy are her adoring slaves. What is it you want, Violet? Strawberry jelly instead of peach? Two eggs instead of one? Twelve books read to you one right after another? Your word is our command! She accepts the attention regally, like the spoiled only child she is. Grownups are for serving kids, did you not know that?

Pie day

Busy day today. I worked extra on my writing/editing work; I want to get ahead for our trip to Florida next week. Phil took Violet away to his mom's house, where she reportedly chatted to the animal figurines and put them to bed over and over again. That's her favorite activity these days. She lays them down, and she covers them up and says "Go sleep, baby!" Then she hunches over them and shushes you if you talk, or if you absentmindedly break into a chorus of "Ghostbusters," which, I can't help it, goes through my head a lot. Who you gonna call? That's one catchy song.

While they were gone I also went up to the store to get my pie supplies. I'm having a pie party tomorrow, and I'm making two strawberry-rhubarb pies, a Fritos pie and a coconut cream. So I bought a gigantic bag of groceries and an extra pie plate at the Goodwill up the street and lugged it all home and made piecrusts. It was foggy and cold outside and cozy inside as I puttered around toasting coconut and smushing up graham crackers.

Later, Cait came over to babysit. Phil and I went to see the movie "Once," it was really fabulous. Afterward I wanted to go for a cocktail or some Indian food but Mr. Excitement was tired so we just came home. That's about it.

Accident

The underpants experiment ended when she peed on her bedroom floor and cried and begged for a diaper back on. I never criticize her for going, but today I did tell her "The feeling you have to know is just before you go. That's when you go to the potty." She cried and cried.

It's probably my fault she went, the timer had just dinged and I'd asked her if she wanted to go and she'd said no so I let it go. Next time I'll just take her. This is a learning thing for me, too.

She also begged for her chocolate chips and I really wanted to bend and give them to her, but what kind of lesson is that? I have to make her want to go to the potty if she's ever going to learn. I'm trying to strike a middle ground between encouraging her and doing nothing. I don't want to veer over to shaming her. But I do want to motivate her. Hopefully I'm doing OK. We'll see! There's a little pair of Elmo underpants hanging over our shower rail, drying out. We'll try again, Violet! But not today, today we're going out to the Yerba Buena Gardens Festival to hear a mariachi band. Arriba!

Underpants!

Violet is being so cute right now. We're trying out underpants! She is running around the apartment in Elmo underpants, three necklaces, and her purple crocs. I have the timer set so every hour it dings and we try to go to the potty. Nothing yet, but she gets one chocolate chip every time she tries, and she'll get 5 if she goes pee and 10 for a poop! Ha ha ha! She says "Peeeee! Five chokit chips!" when she is on it, to try and fool me. but I am not fooled. She has to get up so I can check. There's still dust inside the potty. Somebody told me about a lady who gave her son a Matchbox car every time he went poop on the potty and one day he managed to go 12 times. Wow.

I'm in the living room, she's in the bedroom. I think I'll type what she's saying.

"Thanks! Thanks! Thanks you, thank you. Cake! Is cake! Cuck [this means "cut] cake, want piece. One piece, two piece. No! My piece, no your piece. I put my picture..mm mmm. Mom? I put on my shirt, mommy!" oh wait, she wants me. She wants a shirt.

Actually, she wanted a dress. I got her the dress, the purple one with red spots, and she said "Raisins, please."

"Do you want them in your monkey bowl?"

"No, little box." Months ago I bought a bag of little raisin boxes, and I've been refilling them from the bulk bag ever since.

Listen to this cool thing she said yesterday. I was making a list of people who love her "And Granddaddy loves you, and Gaga, and Nonna and Mimi..." and she mentioned Cassie from Dragon Tales "Oh, does Cassie love you?" I asked. She wrinkled her nose and laughed and said "No, on TV."

"Meaning she's far away or not real?"

"Not real," she said, laughing. Is that kind of advanced? To know the difference between fantasy and reality? I don't know if she does, I just thought this was weird.

Bunny hole

Today after Violet woke up from her nap I crawled into bed with her, pulling the quilt over our heads. "We're little bunnies," I told her quietly. "And we're in a little bunny hole, deep in the earth."

"Bunnies in hole!" she exclaimed, going to grab her purple stuffed bunny and crawling back under the covers. "Bunny hole! Hop hop! Hop hop!"

We nestled together, our legs entertwined. "And we can hear all the noises all around our bunny hole," I told her. The hiss of the radiators. The ocean wave noise machine. Violet's steady in and out breathing. She looked at me and whispered "Baby bunny," crinkling her noise and smiling her #1 best smiley smile, the one that makes my heart feel literally like it is throbbing with love. We snuggled, two warm bunnies. I was as happy as I'd ever been in my entire life, feeling her chest rising and falling, breathing in her sweet breath.

On another note, I made the most incredible dinner. Pinto beans with bacon and mushrooms, collard greens, and these crazy popover things that puffed up like big bubbles. Mmm. Even Violet couldn't complain, but she still did.

Happy Fourth

My wish came true! Rusty has footage of me waving my tiny American flag and singing my festive Independence Day song, which goes like this (to the tune of the Washington Post March): "I have a flag, I have a flag, I have a flag flag flag. I have a flag and I wave it like thiiiiiis. I have a flag I have a flag I have a flag flag flaggy flag flag a flaggy flag I have a flag!"

Now those are words to make tears well up in your eyes, as you remember the men and women who fought and died for their freedom. So that I could sit on the curb on Central Street in Alameda with a really excellent carne asada burrito in one hand, and an American flag in the other. It was a wonderful parade. I had told Violet earlier than there were going to be animals, whereupon she worried "They bite me? They lick me?" I quickly revised that to "cats and dogs," although there were actually no cats. There were horses, however, including one miniature pony and a crazy piebald horse with one blue-white eye. There were also fire trucks, high school marching bands, and local businesspeople aboard floats with live music. Excellent!

I do have one criticism, however. Why is it that I never hear patriotic American music during parades anymore? Today, instead of hearing "America the Beautiful" (which always makes me cry) or "This Land is Your Land," I got "Sweet Home Alabama," "California Dreamin'" and selections from "The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas" (soon to come from the Alameda Light Opera Company!). What the hell? Years ago I had a similar experience at the Chinese New Year Parade in SF, where legions of schoolchildren paraded by using their traditional Chinese instrument to play "Eye of the Tiger!" Appropriate music is important, people. We listened to my CD of marching band songs all the way to Alameda and back, in order to get in the proper mood. I want brass in my parade! I want dudes with piccolos and tri-cornered hats!

I tell you one thing, holidays are sure more fun with the Lil Missus around. She was so happy today, bopping around next to Scarlett (Rusty's kid, also age 2), both of them loaded down with stickers and bead necklaces and little parade doodads. One of them always likes the other one more. Today it was Violet's turn to worship Scarlett more, even though at home when I told her we were going to Scarlett's house she huffed "No play my toys." She kept grabbing Scarlett's hand, and looking her lovingly in the eyes, and trying to hug her around the neck and knocking her over.

At one point I took them both by the hand and into the 99 cent store to cool off a bit. Violet was wearing red-white-and-blue-striped shorts, and a red t-shirt, scarlett had on a white dress. They both looked so festive. And if you want to appreciate the coolness of everyday objects, take a couple of two-year-olds to a 99 cent store. Practically every object I handed to them had them agog. Whoa, paper plates with faces on them! Flowers made of PLASTIC! Fuzzy rainbow dusters, far out! They took the dusters and swept them all over the store, giggling. Everything felt perfect. I was smiling, they were smiling. I felt like Super Mom.

One last complaint. Our American Flag is kind of ugly. I like the colors, but, well...the World's Flags Given Letter Grades gives us only a C, sniffing that our flag is "too busy" and has "too many stars." Americans, I think we're ready for a new flag. Let's take a look at what Turkey and Japan have done. Exemplary. Any inspiration here?

Nice to meet you

Violet: "Oh, kitty!"

Lexie: "That cat's a little shy. She just needs to meet you and then she'll feel more comfortable and you can pet her."

Violet: "Nice meet you. My name Violet."

Me: "Oh my God. We've been working on introductions."

Lexie: "That's not bad!"

Me: "She's got a good handshake going too, but maybe she'll leave that one off for now."

Tomorrow we're going to a Fourth of July parade! I'm so excited! I have been singing patriotic songs and marching around all week. My only wish is that we could have a little American flag to wave. I've been explaining the flag to Violet too, she knows it's the American flag and all. But she's more interested in my tracing her hand on a piece of paper to make a Hand Flag, which we then decorate. The symbol of Violetonia is a hand flag decorated with green and purple dots.

Tired

This was such an exhausting day. Up at 6. Took Violet over to the Talk Line playroom today; she played with Mr. Potato Heads and dress-up shoes while I sat in a rocking chair and read a book. We got home at 1:30 and she went almost immediately to sleep. I was going to make lunch for myself, but I had some work to do. And before I'd even finished, she was already awake! An hour later, I had to go pick up Cole for Shelley. The two of them fought me all the way to the car. And then came home and made a shambles of the house. It's 9:45 and I finally just got my dinner! Ugh. Cole said at dinner, in the middle of Violet pitching a fit over something or other (and dropping food onto the kitchen floor that I scrubbed on my hands and knees yesterday), he said "I'd really like to not hear any more crying today." Amen, Cole!

I'm so tired. I just really want some time to myself now, but I have more work to do before I go to bed.

Today Violet made me laugh, I came out in a green skirt and a green-and-brown top. "Do you like my outfit?" I asked Violet.

"Not shirt," she said grimly.

"No?"

"No! Take it OFFFFF!" she shrieked. My first fashion critique from Violet. Mom, you're embarrassing me.

Voyeur

We were gone all day to a free concert in San Francisco, the Stern Grove Festival. We got there late so the only seating was high up on a hill. We spread out our blanket, ate our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and watched the band. Eventually Violet wanted to dance, we'd brought her special dancing ribbon toy for just that reason. Phil took her down to a level spot on a little wooden bridge. I was watching them dance together when the band started playing a jazz version of "You Are My Sunshine." I got such a stinging in my eyes. My mama used to sing that to me. It seems like yesterday. Now I sing it to Violet. And I was up on the hill crying because I wondered if the years would pass as quickly for her as they have for me, if it would all pass in a blink of an eye and small Violet would be lost to me forever. I want so much to hold on to this time but it just slips through my fingers like water, gone forever. I want to soak in every second, I want to drink her up. My little Violet, dancing on the bridge with her Daddy. She looked so happy. I wiped away my tears before I went down to join them.