Monday, August 27, 2007
Journal changes
Hey, I know a couple of you are confused as to why I haven't been updating this journal. I have begun journaling once more for BabyCenter, and in a week or so my open, public journal will be there. I will also have a private, password-protected journal for friends and family. Please email me (leave a comment if you don't have my email address) and I'd be happy to add you to the list of people who can get on it.
Friday, August 17, 2007
Carrot killer
We are walking to the playground when Violet rounds on me and informs me "I am a bunny, hop hop. An Easter bunny. A big big bunny with big candy." This is all fine and well, but the she tells me "And you are a carrot! Run little carrot!" I dash off down the street, keeping an eye on her in case any cars come. She catches up with me and bites me on the butt, growling.
"I eat you, little carrot! Wait, you are lettuce! No, you are cabbage! Run, little cabbage!"
"I eat you, little carrot! Wait, you are lettuce! No, you are cabbage! Run, little cabbage!"
Thursday, August 16, 2007
A drive to the drugstore
We need diapers and a new toothbrush for Violet so we're driving to the Walgreens with the parking lot.
"Mom? Do you like cheese?"
"No, I don't."
Reflectively to herself. "I do I do I do like cheese."
"Yes, you like cheese. Most people do. It's kind of weird that mommy doesn't like it, but I don't."
"Daddy likes cheese. Granddaddy likes cheese. Gaga likes cheese, Michael Michael (this is sometimes what she calls her Uncle Mike) likes cheese. You don't like cheese?"
"Well, I like some cheeses. I like the hard, grating cheeses like romano and parmesan."
"PU, you like stinky cheese! Your cheese stink, PU."
No wonder she never wants me to grate cheese on her spaghetti anymore. .
Then: "I want underpants," she announces. My heart leaps. I have been waiting for her to make up her damn mind to use the potty. She's been resistant.
Carefully, I say: "Do you want to buy some underpants and not wear diapers, and use the potty?"
She squints at me in the rearview mirror. "Waaah waaah I not use potty! I tiny baby! Please, I want diapers, no use potty!"
Sigh. "OK hon, it's not a big deal. You'll be ready to use it when you're ready." And let it be soon, Lord. Let it be soon.
In the drugstore, I also found that she has reached a horrible new milestone. She kept grabbing stuff and asking for it. "Mama, I want new sippy cup. Mama, I want bag of boons (balloons). Mama, I want Swede Fish (she has had exactly one Swedish Fish in her life, and it was almost eight months ago, and she is only 28 months old. WTF??)!" I bought her a slinky and a Dora toothbrush, I nixed everything else. She was happy enough when I refused. But still, she asked. Ugh, I knew this was coming, the "I wants." And the equanamity at not getting what she wants won't last either, I know.
"Mom? Do you like cheese?"
"No, I don't."
Reflectively to herself. "I do I do I do like cheese."
"Yes, you like cheese. Most people do. It's kind of weird that mommy doesn't like it, but I don't."
"Daddy likes cheese. Granddaddy likes cheese. Gaga likes cheese, Michael Michael (this is sometimes what she calls her Uncle Mike) likes cheese. You don't like cheese?"
"Well, I like some cheeses. I like the hard, grating cheeses like romano and parmesan."
"PU, you like stinky cheese! Your cheese stink, PU."
No wonder she never wants me to grate cheese on her spaghetti anymore. .
Then: "I want underpants," she announces. My heart leaps. I have been waiting for her to make up her damn mind to use the potty. She's been resistant.
Carefully, I say: "Do you want to buy some underpants and not wear diapers, and use the potty?"
She squints at me in the rearview mirror. "Waaah waaah I not use potty! I tiny baby! Please, I want diapers, no use potty!"
Sigh. "OK hon, it's not a big deal. You'll be ready to use it when you're ready." And let it be soon, Lord. Let it be soon.
In the drugstore, I also found that she has reached a horrible new milestone. She kept grabbing stuff and asking for it. "Mama, I want new sippy cup. Mama, I want bag of boons (balloons). Mama, I want Swede Fish (she has had exactly one Swedish Fish in her life, and it was almost eight months ago, and she is only 28 months old. WTF??)!" I bought her a slinky and a Dora toothbrush, I nixed everything else. She was happy enough when I refused. But still, she asked. Ugh, I knew this was coming, the "I wants." And the equanamity at not getting what she wants won't last either, I know.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Door Tickler
Violet is chasing me around with the Surprise Tickler, a cat toy with green feathers on a long stick, so named because when we first got it she enjoyed sneaking up on Bobo and tickling his belly, yelling "Surprise!" to his great displeasure.
"Tickle tickle! Tickle tickle!" I run through the living room and onto her bed, where I roll from one side to the other like a bullet-dodging cop in an action movie. She catches me on the far side. "Tickle tickle, mama!" She pokes it firmly into my open mouth.
"Violet, I have to go to the bathroom!" I slam the bathroom door and then peek out. She's on the other side, tickling the door with the Surprise Tickler. "Hee hee hee hee!" I say for the door, slamming it.
"Tickle tickle, door!" she tells it, tickling from the outside. I open the door and tee-hee for it, then slam it shut and am silent. Open door, giggle. Shut door, silence. Violet is choking with laughter. "Tickle tickle, door! You laugh, funny door!" she instructs the door. This is fun.
"Tickle tickle! Tickle tickle!" I run through the living room and onto her bed, where I roll from one side to the other like a bullet-dodging cop in an action movie. She catches me on the far side. "Tickle tickle, mama!" She pokes it firmly into my open mouth.
"Violet, I have to go to the bathroom!" I slam the bathroom door and then peek out. She's on the other side, tickling the door with the Surprise Tickler. "Hee hee hee hee!" I say for the door, slamming it.
"Tickle tickle, door!" she tells it, tickling from the outside. I open the door and tee-hee for it, then slam it shut and am silent. Open door, giggle. Shut door, silence. Violet is choking with laughter. "Tickle tickle, door! You laugh, funny door!" she instructs the door. This is fun.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Waaah waaah I'm a tiny baby
Violet likes to play that she is a little baby. Sometimes she is Kiki or Finn, two baby dragon characters from "Dragon Tales." Other times she is a baby cat, or even just a baby human. She likes to cuddle in my lap and fake cry. "Waaah! Waaaah!"
"Oh, it's a little baby!" I try to act surprised, even if it is the 11,000 time we have played this game. "The baby is sad. What does the baby want?"
Sometimes the little baby will cry "Milk! Cow's milk!" or perhaps "I want Mama sing a song!" in a breathy, high little baby voice. But usually I have to guess. "I think the little baby wants a hug! Oh, I like to hug little babies, here you go baby." And then I hug her close until she soothes down. Then she wriggles happily on my lap.
Whoops thought I was going to write more, but she just woke up from her nap, more later.
"Oh, it's a little baby!" I try to act surprised, even if it is the 11,000 time we have played this game. "The baby is sad. What does the baby want?"
Sometimes the little baby will cry "Milk! Cow's milk!" or perhaps "I want Mama sing a song!" in a breathy, high little baby voice. But usually I have to guess. "I think the little baby wants a hug! Oh, I like to hug little babies, here you go baby." And then I hug her close until she soothes down. Then she wriggles happily on my lap.
Whoops thought I was going to write more, but she just woke up from her nap, more later.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Date Day
This really was as perfect of a day as I can imagine having. We got out early this morning and went to the new, amazing, renovated children's park in Golden Gate Park. It has sculptures of sea animals you can sit on (Violet told me she was going to go sit "right on the turtle's neck," and did!), a climbing wall shaped like an ocean wave, a giant rope sculpture to climb, and many other glorious features, including a swinging plastic chair in which you can recline. Nice. We spent a few hours there, then realized the carousel was open nearby. It's only $1.50 for adults, and free for kids under six. So we rode twice. Once I rode a pig while Violet rode the sea serpent, and then she rode a doggy and I got the horsey. I had such a happy feeling on that carousel, such a perfect-moment feeling with Vi and Phil laughing beside me, our rides rising and falling gracefully.
Afterwards, Iraya came to babysit and me and Phil had a date. We drove out to China Beach; I was hoping the blackberries might be ripe, but they weren't. We picked and ate a few sour ones anyway, then walked down to the beach and rolled up our pants. The water, for once, was only cold enough to make you scream, not cold enough to turn your feet into actual ice cubes. I stood with my feet in the waves, letting the sand suck my toes down, examining the pretty smooth granite stones on the beach. The sand here is different from the orange-y pulverized coral sand of Daytona. It has small, glamorous grains of quarts and mica; it shines and sparkles darkly. I sifted it through my fingers. "Joyce!" called Phil excitedly, pointing to where dolphins were frolicking together out in the waves. We watched them. A seal poked his head up and watched us right back. I held Phil's hand and trained my eyes on the horizon, trying to find the exact place where the ocean turned into the sky. I could hear my slow, steady heartbeat in my ears. Phil squeezed my fingers. There are times when I forget how much I love him, and then moments when it comes rushing back, making me a little woozy. He's the only one I want with me on the beach.
Yesterday was my dear Aunt Jean's birthday. Happy birthday, Jean! And Dave and Kiki are having a romantic weekend at Daytona, I hope they're having fun.
Afterwards, Iraya came to babysit and me and Phil had a date. We drove out to China Beach; I was hoping the blackberries might be ripe, but they weren't. We picked and ate a few sour ones anyway, then walked down to the beach and rolled up our pants. The water, for once, was only cold enough to make you scream, not cold enough to turn your feet into actual ice cubes. I stood with my feet in the waves, letting the sand suck my toes down, examining the pretty smooth granite stones on the beach. The sand here is different from the orange-y pulverized coral sand of Daytona. It has small, glamorous grains of quarts and mica; it shines and sparkles darkly. I sifted it through my fingers. "Joyce!" called Phil excitedly, pointing to where dolphins were frolicking together out in the waves. We watched them. A seal poked his head up and watched us right back. I held Phil's hand and trained my eyes on the horizon, trying to find the exact place where the ocean turned into the sky. I could hear my slow, steady heartbeat in my ears. Phil squeezed my fingers. There are times when I forget how much I love him, and then moments when it comes rushing back, making me a little woozy. He's the only one I want with me on the beach.
Yesterday was my dear Aunt Jean's birthday. Happy birthday, Jean! And Dave and Kiki are having a romantic weekend at Daytona, I hope they're having fun.
Friday, August 10, 2007
"Oh no, my song!"
When Violet is enjoying a song, she never wants it to end. "Oh no, my song!" she'll exclaim sadly. She likes it best when we leave songs on repeat, which is why I have listened to "Lollipop, Lollipop" 12 times in a row (and 17 times two days ago, followed by 9 renditions of "Mr. Sandman). It is such a Faustian bargian. While she is listening to her song, she dances around playing happily by herself. When I try to shut off the damn din, shrieks follow. It is like a mean genie showed up and said "You can sit and read your 'Entertainment Weekly' in peace, but you will be bitten by insistent mosquitoes the whole time." My neighbors must think I am insane.
But all this is a million times better than this morning, when, during a shared bath intended to relieve her constipation, she pooped all over me. "Phil, get the BLEACH!" I screamed from the bathroom. Yuck. The bathtub is very clean now.
But all this is a million times better than this morning, when, during a shared bath intended to relieve her constipation, she pooped all over me. "Phil, get the BLEACH!" I screamed from the bathroom. Yuck. The bathtub is very clean now.
Thursday, August 9, 2007
We will, we will gas you
No one ever fricking comments on this journal. I know you're reading! but you're not talking!
In the other room, my little neighbors Rhianna and Assante are taking care of Vi, I am paying them $2 and $7 an hour to be here. They are listening to Radio Disney, which is playing "We Will Rock You," and they are punctuating each downbeat with a firm blast on the whoopee cushion. Awesome!
I had a nice little birthday gathering for myself last night. We played Pictionary and ate the killer, flawless pineapple upside down cake I made. I successfully drew "parade" by drawing a line of stick figures with batons, but my "torpedo" looked like an octopus. I forgot they should be going sideways, not up in the air like a rocket. I never am able to make the drawings in my head come out on the page. Ms. Iris was quite good at guessing what I was doing, however, she is a smart kid. And a better drawer than me.
OK I'm paying for this time, I'm going to stare into space. That is worth $9 an hour, how sad.
In the other room, my little neighbors Rhianna and Assante are taking care of Vi, I am paying them $2 and $7 an hour to be here. They are listening to Radio Disney, which is playing "We Will Rock You," and they are punctuating each downbeat with a firm blast on the whoopee cushion. Awesome!
I had a nice little birthday gathering for myself last night. We played Pictionary and ate the killer, flawless pineapple upside down cake I made. I successfully drew "parade" by drawing a line of stick figures with batons, but my "torpedo" looked like an octopus. I forgot they should be going sideways, not up in the air like a rocket. I never am able to make the drawings in my head come out on the page. Ms. Iris was quite good at guessing what I was doing, however, she is a smart kid. And a better drawer than me.
OK I'm paying for this time, I'm going to stare into space. That is worth $9 an hour, how sad.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Sweetness
Had to go to the grocery store today, no bread, no milk, no yogurt, no apples. So we went. Somehow going always reminds me of when V was small and it was so hard, oh, so hard, with me sweating actual panic sweat in the aisles, trying to placate her in a million ways and still always having to leave before I got all the way through the aisles. For one thing, part of my PPD nightmare is that I believed if we were in a public place and I took my hands off her, or even off the grocery cart when she was in it, somebody would rush up and kidnap her. Sure, NOW I know this is insane. At the time, not so much. Perhaps that is why Violet would always save her most horrific baby tantrums for the grocery store. One time I remember actually weeping my way through the checkout, helplessly sobbing along with Violet as everyone in the known universe stared at the mom losing her mind. I'm so tired of being other people's cautionary example.
I think those early trips were so hard because Little Violet did not like being strapped down. Bigger Violet, who understands the reason she is constrained in the cart, and who is big enough to understand that she gets a balloon and stickers at Trader Joe's, is a perfect angel in the store.
"Do we need apples, baby?" Yes, we do. I hold up a selection for her. "Pick the prettiest."
"Dat one, dat one, dat one," she points at two Pink Ladies and a Gala. "I hold?"
"No, honey, if you drop them it'll ruin them," I say. "Take this instead," I tell her, handing her the bag of avocadoes and a strawberry yogurt (28 grams of sugar!!! that is 7 teaspoons. But just this once.).
She receives the yogurt happily. "Yummy yummy strawberry yog. You sit right over hyah. Here's this guy," indicating the avos "and that guy," talking to the yogurt. "Dey jump up, down. 'Hey you, you sit over hyah by me,'" Violet says in her high squeaky voice, talking for the yogurt. "I like you, my straw friend."
We get all the way out with no tears, not even any whining. Violet gets a pink balloon. "What will we name it?" I ask her.
"Pink boon. Pink boon kite. Pink."
"What about Fred? Or Myrna?"
"No, pink boon," she tells me, brow furrowed.
"No problem."
"My mama says no problem!" she says, burrowing into her carseat. "New carseat," she reminds herself. It is two months old, but she can't get over it. Thank God she didn't see Mary and Peter carting off the old one for their kid, Dash. She woulda never gotten over it.
Back home we have lunch in pieces: the yogurt, slices of actual fresh strawberry, peanut butter spread on apple slices and the seed bread I made last night. I sit with Violet. "Eat my yogurt!" she commands. "No! No! Don't eat!"
"OK," I say, defeated.
"Mama, eat my yogurt!" she says, dimples flashing. You can't win with her.
After lunch it's time to cuddle her into her nap. We twine together and I read her the personalized book my Auntie Jean got her; Violet likes it because it has textures to feel. Bobo crawls under the covers with us, in between us. He and Violet are starting to be good friends. "Oh, Bobie!" she says in surprise when she feels his fur against her bare legs. "He good cat!" she tells me. Yes, I know. The sky is gray and foggy outside, but we're warm and snug inside, sleepy, warm, all together.
I think those early trips were so hard because Little Violet did not like being strapped down. Bigger Violet, who understands the reason she is constrained in the cart, and who is big enough to understand that she gets a balloon and stickers at Trader Joe's, is a perfect angel in the store.
"Do we need apples, baby?" Yes, we do. I hold up a selection for her. "Pick the prettiest."
"Dat one, dat one, dat one," she points at two Pink Ladies and a Gala. "I hold?"
"No, honey, if you drop them it'll ruin them," I say. "Take this instead," I tell her, handing her the bag of avocadoes and a strawberry yogurt (28 grams of sugar!!! that is 7 teaspoons. But just this once.).
She receives the yogurt happily. "Yummy yummy strawberry yog. You sit right over hyah. Here's this guy," indicating the avos "and that guy," talking to the yogurt. "Dey jump up, down. 'Hey you, you sit over hyah by me,'" Violet says in her high squeaky voice, talking for the yogurt. "I like you, my straw friend."
We get all the way out with no tears, not even any whining. Violet gets a pink balloon. "What will we name it?" I ask her.
"Pink boon. Pink boon kite. Pink."
"What about Fred? Or Myrna?"
"No, pink boon," she tells me, brow furrowed.
"No problem."
"My mama says no problem!" she says, burrowing into her carseat. "New carseat," she reminds herself. It is two months old, but she can't get over it. Thank God she didn't see Mary and Peter carting off the old one for their kid, Dash. She woulda never gotten over it.
Back home we have lunch in pieces: the yogurt, slices of actual fresh strawberry, peanut butter spread on apple slices and the seed bread I made last night. I sit with Violet. "Eat my yogurt!" she commands. "No! No! Don't eat!"
"OK," I say, defeated.
"Mama, eat my yogurt!" she says, dimples flashing. You can't win with her.
After lunch it's time to cuddle her into her nap. We twine together and I read her the personalized book my Auntie Jean got her; Violet likes it because it has textures to feel. Bobo crawls under the covers with us, in between us. He and Violet are starting to be good friends. "Oh, Bobie!" she says in surprise when she feels his fur against her bare legs. "He good cat!" she tells me. Yes, I know. The sky is gray and foggy outside, but we're warm and snug inside, sleepy, warm, all together.
Monday, August 6, 2007
Halloween is my Christmas
A kids catalogue with pages of Halloween costumes came today, and Violet was very excited.
"What that guy?" she asked, pointing at a ladybug costume. "Oh! A bug!" she answers himself. A caterpillar costume is "a bug, NOT a caterpoozle!" A cowboy costume was "ee hah! ee hah!" She was most enchanted by the Elmo costume "Elmo, Elmo, I love Elmo!" she ranted, looking like one of those girls screaming at the early Beatles concerts. She also loved the dragon costume, and was confused by my explanation of the devil costume.
"Why costume?" she wondered.
I explained "It's a holiday in October when kids wear costumes and walk around at night. And you get candy for wearing your costume!"
"Candy! I want BIG candy. That sounds like fun! I wear costume on Halloween!"
I can't even say how much that means to me, to hear that. How is it that everything I love is so much bigger and brighter and better with Violet to share it with?
"What that guy?" she asked, pointing at a ladybug costume. "Oh! A bug!" she answers himself. A caterpillar costume is "a bug, NOT a caterpoozle!" A cowboy costume was "ee hah! ee hah!" She was most enchanted by the Elmo costume "Elmo, Elmo, I love Elmo!" she ranted, looking like one of those girls screaming at the early Beatles concerts. She also loved the dragon costume, and was confused by my explanation of the devil costume.
"Why costume?" she wondered.
I explained "It's a holiday in October when kids wear costumes and walk around at night. And you get candy for wearing your costume!"
"Candy! I want BIG candy. That sounds like fun! I wear costume on Halloween!"
I can't even say how much that means to me, to hear that. How is it that everything I love is so much bigger and brighter and better with Violet to share it with?
Thursday, August 2, 2007
My lil Keith Moon
I love when Violet starts banging wildly with sticks. She really goes nuts. She just wails on that chair, and squinches her eyes shut in rock ecstasy, and shakes her head back and forth. She looks like Keith Moon. Pow pow pow pow! You go, you wild untamed rebel! When Phil isn't home, I let her scream loudly while she plays as well.
"EEEEEEEYEAAAH!" she'll scream, and I'll scream back at her. "YOW! Good one, Violet, but can you do it LOUDER?"
When Daddy is home I say "people don't like loud noises in the house." I don't mind them so much, but they make a little pulse throb alarmingly in Phil's forehead.
Today we went to go see Lee and Ron's adorable new baby, Spencer. He was like a tiny screwed-up rose petal. Ron let me hold him, he was sleeping, and I sniffed him rapturously. New baby smell is even better than new car smell. Violet was 100 percent perfect. I had told her before we arrived that she couldn't touch the new baby, she had to just look with her eyes, and she was so good, she just looked. And she was nice and quiet and didn't wake him up. When we got home she wrapped her doll baby up in her skirt and told me solemnly "This my baby, you just look with eyes."
Phil's taking off work tomorrow and we're going camping. It's Games Weekend! Scarlett is going to be there for Violet to play with, and mama's going to get lots of lovely time off so I can put my feet up and play Apples to Apples and Pictionary. I am particularly excited about the Pictionary.
"EEEEEEEYEAAAH!" she'll scream, and I'll scream back at her. "YOW! Good one, Violet, but can you do it LOUDER?"
When Daddy is home I say "people don't like loud noises in the house." I don't mind them so much, but they make a little pulse throb alarmingly in Phil's forehead.
Today we went to go see Lee and Ron's adorable new baby, Spencer. He was like a tiny screwed-up rose petal. Ron let me hold him, he was sleeping, and I sniffed him rapturously. New baby smell is even better than new car smell. Violet was 100 percent perfect. I had told her before we arrived that she couldn't touch the new baby, she had to just look with her eyes, and she was so good, she just looked. And she was nice and quiet and didn't wake him up. When we got home she wrapped her doll baby up in her skirt and told me solemnly "This my baby, you just look with eyes."
Phil's taking off work tomorrow and we're going camping. It's Games Weekend! Scarlett is going to be there for Violet to play with, and mama's going to get lots of lovely time off so I can put my feet up and play Apples to Apples and Pictionary. I am particularly excited about the Pictionary.
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