We got back from our trip East Thursday evening, and we spent all day yesterday re-acclimating to our lives. I don’t think we’re done with that—may take all weekend. It will certainly take all weekend AT LEAST to unpack the alarming amount of stuff we brought with us.

Our story begins in Latrobe, Pennsylvania, where Vibble and I spent a wonderful week visiting old friends and spending great times with my family there. This includes: THE MOST AWESOME COUSINS ON EARTH! This trip was a long one for Violet, but I can tell you on her behalf that she would gladly go another nine rounds if it meant getting to be with Dani and Erica. She just adores being in their presence.

Highlights of this visit included an overnight in Pittsburgh with Cindy and Matt and Bridget and Dave; a day at Idlewild Park; a visit to Keystone Equestrian Center, where my nieces take horseback riding lessons; two cookouts at Cheri and Brian’s house—one of which was attended by Tracey and her husband and kids—and lots of trampoline time! I think Violet is likely dreaming about that trampoline as I type this.

From Latrobe, I borrowed my oldest niece, Erica, as a mother’s helper, and she and Violet and I headed to Penn State for a little reunion weekend. Despite the heat and some toddler moodiness to match, we had the very best time walking around campus and downtown and swimming in the hotel pool. My roommates and I, who have kids around the same age now, were there, and Jen & Pete and Kelly also joined us. It was a great little dynamic, and I so enjoyed being there and being together.

OK, here’s where it gets ambitious: From State College, we drove all the way to Bear Paw, NC, where my grandparents are summering. Yes, that’s a 14-hour drive. With a two-year-old. All I can say is, THANK GOODNESS FOR ERICA. There were so few moments of complaint from Violet on this trip, and in fact, she seemed to enjoy most of it immensely. I would say I gambled and won with this plan, wouldn’t you? The overnight in a hotel in Wytheville was especially memorable. Erica decided while I was in the shower to give Violet half of a chocolate bar. (Note: This is but one example of Erica’s DEVIOUS SIDE.) What followed looked a lot like that first time freshman year when your friend comes home completely drunk, and you and your other friends, being not drunk, enjoy just sort of messing with that person. Erica and I laughed until we cried at Vibble’s nutty high-jinks for an hour while she jumped on the beds singing, whipped off her diaper and danced all over the room, and talked to us in a high-pitched and speedy little voice. Needless to say, she slept like a rock that night. Also needless to say: No more chocolate for you, Little One, YOU ARE CUT OFF.

On to lovely Bear Paw. Lovely and REMOTE. Our cabin was fantastic, and the lake was gorgeous. The company couldn’t have been better: My grandparents, The Kinkers; my dad and Pauline; my mom’s brother, John, and his wife, Lynn, and their two kids, Olivia and Lillian, from Northport, MI, all week … we were also joined late Wednesday night by Stevel, and my mom and Mike and Dani came down for one day of overlap visit as we were heading out. Lots of great fun in the pool, a wonderful day on a rented pontoon boat on the lake with my dad and Pauline, and whitewater rafting with the Northport Kinkers.

FINALLY, we headed to Georgia for some relaxing time at my dad’s and for visits with my Nana and with my dad’s side of the family there. By this point, sadly, I was sort of burned out on taking photos, I guess, because I don’t seem to have a single one. Know, though, that we enjoyed the time together a great deal, and seeing everyone is always a treat. Plus, Vibble got to play with her great-uncle and great-aunt, and I’m not sure if she knows they aren’t some Georgia toddler playgroup.

The kid was good as gold on the flights, such a smooth little traveler! She arrives back here with a mastery of the iPad, a dozen or so mosquito bites, and a LOT of new words (thanks to her cousins). And yes, you can check out the photos—on Facebook and via this link.

I just needed a short bio for something, and I wanted to keep track of it for future looking-back, so here it is:

Sprinter, nurse, cook, fellow princess, police officer, teacher, driver, mermaid, human roller coaster, carpet vacuum operator, hairdresser, heartache healer, half-of-a-parade, tricycle lugger, monkey-kitty-butterfly, protector, photographer, singer/dancer, and also I change a lot of Huggies.

And here’s a bio I wrote for Violet a bit ago:

Violet was born at St. John’s. We call her “Vibble” as a nickname, because her initials are VBL (Violet Bella LaVietes). Since her St. John’s days, Vibble has taken the usual routes to arrive at the Twos. She currently spends most of her time running in circles and removing objects from cabinets, containers, and shelves. She is a much-too-adept climber who is still getting the hang of talking. She enjoys electronics and is not fooled by “decoy” remote controls or phones. She loves edamame and gummy bear vitamins. She dislikes diaper changes and the two-gummy-bear-vitamin limit.

Hm, some of that is outdated now, of course. The running-in-circles has given way to running-miles-and-miles-before-I-can-catch-her, for example. But isn’t it the truth with a kid this age that you could write a bio for them one day, and by the next day, you’d have to write a different one!

Friday we went to Tanaka Farms—rode in a wagon all over the farm; tasted green beans, carrots, tomatoes, corn, and more right from the fields; and “picked” a watermelon. What fun! Photos here.

My morning routine for myself used to be what I always considered, ‘Low Maintenance.’ A little makeup, clothes selection, some hair attention.

Now that old routine seems prima donna in comparison to what I get to do. Here’s what it looks like:

[1]

Sometimes I try to do some yoga. HA! Violet thinks this is HILARIOUS! Time to use every muscle in her body to knock Mom over! Wheee!

[2]

OK, get myself dressed. Can I even enter the closet? Most days this involves traversing a blockade of laundry baskets. If so, it’s bottoms, a top, and hope they match.

[3]

Around this time I have to turn on some Madeline, because the Little Boss does not like for me to spend too much time in the closet, heaven forbid. Demands! If I have time to be in the closet, then apparently I have time on my hands—why am I not holding her!

[4]

‘Makeup’ these days has been pared down to one thing: Chap Stick. Chap Stick is the entirety of my beauty regimen. (Naturally, I don’t balk at buying expensive LUXURY Chap Stick, because it’s got to work hard to draw attention away from my blemishes and dark circles.) Of course, today, my Chap Stick was unavailable. As I was sighfully debating whether to dig in the laundry baskets to try and find it, Vibble showed up at the closet door. She brushed her hair back from her face to show off to me her handiwork: Her face was completely buttered in Chap Stick. “Lovely! Mom’s turn to use MOM’s Chap Stick!” (At least she has stopped using it to completely fill in her navel—she’s just maturing every day, and we are so proud.)

[5]

So the Chap Stick has been recovered. Without offending any sensibilities out there, let me just say this: Step 5 is where one hopes one does not need any feminine hygiene products. Because in Vibble’s room there is a dolly napping on a mattress of panty liners … and tampons, forget it. Whoever thought it would be a good idea to wrap tampons in colorful plastic wrappers—you know, like CANDY! or HAPPY MEAL TOYS!—I curse you. They are a holy grail of toddlers.

[6]

Breakfast: Diet Pepsi and whatever has the most sugar/choco power.

[7]

Shoes: Flip flops. No matter how cold it is out, they are fast and, most importantly, in the living room. Once I’ve come downstairs, there is no going back. There’s just no time. We’ve got to be somewhere, and Vibble is purposely dribbling milk on her clean shirt and refusing to wear pants.

[8]

Pack the day’s needs. This step is so important, it requires I stop. Breathe. Focus. The last thing I want today is to be on some playground and smell poo on my kid and realize I don’t have a diaper. Hand sanitizer, yes. Crayons, of course. A diaper? Um.

[9]

Step 9 is where I turn off Madeline. You have probably heard this step, wherever you live. It is deafening.

[10]

Step 10 is where we head out of the garage, and I realize I forgot to put on deodorant, brush my teeth, and so much as look at my hair in a mirror. Good thing it’s not me people are looking at when we’re out in public, but this cute little pantsless kid with the milk on her shirt, right?

Well, staples, really. OK, one staple. But it suuuuuucked. Not the staple part so much, that part was actually very quick. But the part where Vibble’s head was bleeding all over the place, and the pediatrician couldn’t get all of the blood washed out of her hair to find the wound, and Vibble was so sad, and then when the ped told me I had to take her to the ER anyway … ug. Poor little one. She was so brave. She’s really a toughie. They had to hold her down to do the stapling. She seemed most upset by having her blood pressure checked, though, and when anyone got between her and the TV. So brave. Periodically as we were waiting to go into the ped’s office, she was asking ME if I was OK. (Um. No.) Steve came over from work, and like I said, Violet was such a champ.

The cause was a typical toddler altercation at a birthday party (hope it’s still a good memory for the birthday boy—we really did have a lot of fun up until the toy-tractor part). It’s true what they say about head wounds. They bleed A LOT.

We go back in two weeks to get the staple taken out. Meanwhile, Steve and I are facing the reality that this is likely the first of many such staple-trips to the ER with VBL, aka, Thrill-Junkie. May need to budget that copay into monthly expenses by the time she’s six.

We took the TRAIN today! Met up with a couple of playgroup pals at Union Station and rode about an hour and a half down to San Juan Capistrano, where there’s a petting zoo and restaurants and other fun stuff right by the station. I will be understating it to say this, but I’ll say it anyway: IT WAS SO FUN! And Violet was incredibly good all day. Aside from a brief wah-wah on the train ride home, she was just the best little kid.

My favorite part of the day was when we first got to the petting zoo. Along with your entry fee, you can choose a purchase from an assortment of veggies and animal food. I picked the bowl o’ pellets, knowing if I went with the cut veggies, a certain little animal I know might feed herSELF. Anyway, once in the pen of bunnies and guinea pigs (aka The Rodent Infested Pen—[shiver]), Vibble made her rounds. She took her bowl of kibble and set it in front of an enclave of bunnies and then sat back on her haunches. A few seconds later, she took it away from them, moved along to another enclave of bunnies and guinea pigs across the pen, and let them munch from the bowl for a few seconds. This went on and on and on and on. It was just adorable. I got some video; I’ll try to upload it sometime soon.

After the petting zoo, we had lunch and then killed a little time at a playground that had a sand pit with a water-pump in it. It was like every two-year-old’s fantasy sandbox, and we let the girls get soaked and dirty, then cleaned them up for the train ride home. Our hope was that they would nap, but while Emme was down with that plan, Vibble and Brienna were too wired. Because TRAINS! And ANIMALS! ANIMALS YOU CAN TOUCH! And ICE CREAM! What an exciting day they’d had. (Me, too.)

Enjoy some photos of our day!

Today has been a rare day without TV. Not that Violet watches a TON of TV, but ideally, for us, she would watch none. It’s just that, sometimes I need to use the stove or something, and I need her distracted and to stay put. And then sometimes, she is just blue, and nothing seems to work, and then I say, “Do you want to watch Madeline?” and she grins and gets all happy. Madeline is a very effective mood-lifter here.

Anyway, no TV today, but let me tell you why sometimes if I need to do something besides watch her every move I have little choice but to put her in front of the TV for a bit. So just now I was trying to get some laundry done. First she played in her room. Then I had to take a break from laundry to clean up the broken light bulb in her room. Then she played downstairs. Then I had to take a break from laundry to vacuum flour off of Violet’s arms and legs and the entire—yes, the ENTIRE—first level floor. It smelled like a bakery in here for the second time this week (earlier in the week, she got into the spices and decided our living room needed a dash of cinnamon—in every square inch).

When I found her with the flour, she knew she had been caught. Immediately, she said, “I sorry!” She said it about four times, shrugging her shoulders, and the tone she used was one you might use if, say, you accidentally stepped on someone’s toe in line at the grocery store. Like, “Oops! Clumsy me! I got into the flour!”

My mom flew out for a visit the other week, and we had the bestest time. We visited Leo Carillo and Malibu Lagoon, shopped, and just basked in the fearlessness and fun of Vibble. Stevel and I took an overnight to Big Bear, just the two of us, which was a nice, lazy, relaxing getaway. Check out photos here!

Two important things happened this week in the way of “getting back on the horse.” Horses.

[1]

We rode our bike again.

I have a great kid-seat on our bike, and I started taking Vibble for rides in bicycle-friendly Santa Monica at about 6 mos. old. When she was a year-ish, we had an accident. It was actually pretty hard to talk about, and I hadn’t been on the bike since, but here’s what happened that day:

I put Vibble in her seat in the garage and mounted the bike. It was very dark in the garage. I rode out into the extremely bright sunlight and was momentarily blinded, and in that moment, I misjudged the location of a pretty high curb in front of our building. We toppled over the curb into the busy street. The first thing to hit the road was my knee (after months of physical therapy, it’s kind of ok now, heh). Second thing was my arm. Third, my precious kid’s helmet. As in, her head, on 26th Street. Cars whooshing by within centimeters.

She was fine within, I would say, 45 seconds. The helmet did its job, and I limped over to the front steps and held her, and she was smiling and laughing in no time.

I was not fine. Aside from my physical injuries, I had just come a little too close to Bad Things. I shook and sobbed, and while the sobbing eventually abated (after hours), the shaking lasted almost three days. And we didn’t ride the bike again, I couldn’t.

The other person who was not fine—perhaps the person least fine—was Stevel. This was a family bike ride, so he was on our other bike behind me, and witnessed the whole thing. I think for him, watching Violet’s tiny helmetted head hit the street was the very thing his anxiety is constantly assuming might happen: Complete horror. He still doesn’t understand how I drove that bike so that it went over sideways into the street.

I don’t need to tell you how awful this all was. We sort of agreed I wouldn’t blog about it, and that wasn’t going to be a problem, since I could barely choke out a one-sentence version of what had happened to tell the doctor when I went in about my knee. But I’ve since told the story to friends and family, and I wanted to record it here and report that we got back on that bike this week. I knew I needed to do it. It was a trembly ride for me, but by the end, I’d hit my stride again, and OH MAN, does this kid love to ride. Holy crap. She chattered the entire way to the library. Twice, drivers got honked at from behind, because a light turned green and they were still talking to Violet: “Look at you! Goin’ for a BIKE RIDE? You like your bike?”

It was all very smooth from her perspective, I think. She was enthusiastic about getting in the seat—she clearly remembered and was eager to ride. She had a new helmet (I was told after any accident you should replace the helmet), which she has since put on in the house a few times and worn around, as if to say, ‘When are we going on that bike again, Mom?’

Soon, Vibble, and often.

[2]

The other horse I will abbreviate, as it is still kind of fresh in my mind (and the bruises are still green).

I had some things mounted in the kitchen, a tiny cabinet up high with our liquor in it being the highest, screwed in as instructed to the thick wood (actually, it’s double-cabinet thickness) side of the cupboard bank over the sink. It was on there good and sound, trust me. BUT then I mounted a Can Crusher on the side of it and proceeded to release all of my frustrations on Diet Pepsi cans, with the force of all of this going into the side of the cabinet and rocking it slightly on its screws. I knew this was a bad idea. KNEW. And yet …

So one day I’m crushin’ some cans, and BA-BOOM!!!!!!!! The cabinet comes OFF the wall, on its way down taking out a nearby wine rack, the medicine cabinet that serves as Vibble’s play kitchen fridge, a piece of the cupboard, some chunks of the floor, and oh, a little bit of my leg.

Fortunate thing of fortunate things: Vibble is not playing in her kitchen, although she is pretty eager to get into the middle of the mess, and Dad has to keep her from trudging through glass and wine and booze and fractured wood and Diet Pepsi cans and laughing-weeping Mom (I felt momentarily insane).

OK, so back on the horse: This week, I had a professional handyman come in to do some things in the house, and I had HIM re-hang all of these things—liquor cabinet, wine rack, kid-fridge, Can Crusher (in a new spot, of course). He put billions of heavy duty screws into everything. I don’t know if you could get these things down with a sledgehammer. He also mounted some other things onto walls where I had been considering hanging them myself. His instructions were: “On there good enough so if she hangs off of it, it’s not coming down.”

The lesson here is, Kristan and her cordless drill: Too ambitious. I wouldn’t say this was a “close call,” since it was clearly the can crushing that caused the disaster, and I never crushed cans while Violet was in the kitchen. It made me RIGHTLY nervous to have her anywhere near that action. But what if … ?

OK, put the helmet back on, Vibb, if you’re going into the rooms where Mom has screwed random cabinetry into the walls herself.

That wasn’t as abbreviated as promised, sorry. And yes, both of these fallen-off-horses were my fault. I blew it. I’m learning from it, still.

[C]

And now I need to try and get myself back to sleep. I’ve got some awesome friends coming into town today, and I want to be ready to PLAY! Bridgey comes in around 3, and Cindy around 10, and with Cindy coming I’m thinking we will likely grocery shop right away, since I don’t know the first thing about buying bacon. Or foie gras.

We two went to the L.A. Zoo today, and what fun. Not that we saw very many animals. We spent a lot of time at each exhibit, though—and by exhibit, I mean bench, sewer grate, or crack in the sidewalk. That’s not to say we didn’t spend some time in the company of the animals. Almost half an hour in front of some kind of grassland antelope, more than half an hour in the chimp area—but in all of these cases, the draw was much less the animals themselves than the infrastructure and exhibit surroundings. Vibble just totally loved this place. I let her explore at her pace, following behind her with the stroller and leaving the decisions about where we would go next almost entirely to her. She was in heaven.

When she did notice an animal, Vibble would exclaim, “Doggie!” I’d say something like, “Look, Vibb, a chimp. That’s a chimp.” And she would reply, “Doggie!”

I think her favorite part of the day, judging by the width of her smiles, was when she found a little girl in a sitting area who had time on her hands because her mother was nursing her baby brother. Violet and this little girl had a squealy leaf battle that went on and on and on.

We bought a membership on our way out. Now, here are some photos

“I’m sorry, but you can’t go to the grocery store in nothing but your tutu.”

Vibble had her first “real” haircut today. Sat on my lap in the hairdresser’s chair and watched Elmo contentedly. Hairdresser made it all one length not too far under the chin. ‘Cause that mullet wasn’t going to go away on its own.

Some photos post-haircut

[1]

Steve got a new computer. It is very large, too large for his desk. And so … and so … we traded desks! This has turned our world topsy turvy. EVERYONE is cranky about it. Until the dust settles, cords are stowed, and we all learn to avoid banging our heads on the unexpected sharp corners, there will be tension shrouding all life here. This is not a metaphor. It could be, it would make a lovely one, but it’s not.

[2]

Our bed FINALLY arrived!!!! We purchased this bed in SEPTEMBER. We have been sleeping on a mattress on the floor since then, and it has been actually pretty nice and fun. But ooooooh, the bed feels good. And it looks super nice! And Vibble has decided it’s her newest piece of gym equipment. Rollsies off the bed—whee! Headboard is a horsey—whee! Oh, Two, you are so fun. And neck-breaker-scary.

[3]

Vibble is really into dressing up right now, but let me clarify. Thursday she took to the courtyard carrying a cold/heat-pack like a purse. Wednesday she put a small box on her head and tucked a placemat under her armpits and went a-walking up and down the courtyard for an hour. FANCY. I took a photo on my phone, so I’ll have to get that up for you. It’s very challenging when she’s in the courtyard to keep her from knocking on people’s doors, and a lot of our neighbors work from home or are retired or whatnot.

[4]

I need to just mention she is nearly never—NEVER—still. She dances while she EATS. She spins in circles twice a minute. Pants, ants.

[5]

This week we busted out the kiddie pool. It was hot for a couple of days, and on the first day, Vibble stayed in there for almost two hours and was falling asleep with her head on the side of the pool before she “agreed” to come out. (By “agreed,” I mean “she lost the physical brawl that ensued when I decided she was getting out.”)

[6]

Steve got a treadmill. He has been getting up mornings and walking far, far away. In our basement. He always comes back. There is a fine dust of treadmill rubber on the floor. If you know Steve, you’re not surprised, and you realize this is not a fault of the treadmill. I’ve never seen anyone wear through shoes to the bottom like he does, for example. As Steve says of the treadmill, “We’re probably going to have to buy one of these every year.”

[7]

I painted some walls, just touching up, covering that fingerpaint handprint, stuff like that. It wore me out, took me two days to recover. I am old.

[8]

Violet and I went to Pretend City! With Christopher and Oliver! I already posted photos of that.

[9]

I made Violet a cardboard-box house yesterday. She was less into it after I made a house out of it than she had been when it was a box, but I felt creative, and I was proud of my box-house, so _I_ played in it.

[10]

I’m not sure why food seems to be more appealing after it has been dumped on the floor/ground/cement, but this kid promptly dumps all food and then grazes on it. Usually at her seat at the table, she is satisfied with eating it off the tray. But we STILL don’t trust her with dishware of any kind, really. She’s like, Whee! Dishware! [DUMP]

[11]

She says a lot more words now, but almost never on request. She says her name (sort of). She still does not really ask for what she wants, but she repeats the last couple of syllables of what we say sometimes, says little phrases she has heard (she loves the sneeze-”Bless You”-”Thank you” routine). Mostly she sings incoherently, constantly. It’s sort of like living with a little drunk hobo, especially with the box on her head and the placemat wrapped around her torso.

[12]

I need to mention how much she loves to read. LOVES. TO. READ. “Likes” to be read TO, but loves to hang out with her books. It’s right up there with watching TV, her all-time favorite thing to do. Like when you turn on a TV, before it even makes any sound, just the subtle click of the button depressing on the remote or on the appliance itself, she is like a rabbit who hears a dog two miles away. All activity immediately stops. She sniffs the air. She tenses all over. Teeeeee … Veeeeee … [slurp]

[13]

Our cats are Old.

[14]

Apparently, we had a little earthquake the other day. I didn’t feel it. It was only a 4 or something. Not like these other earthquakes killing half the world right now. What are those, like 20s? Sucky.

[15]

Kelly is coming this weekend! HOORAY!

I’m looking for advice. Those of you with children: How do you handle discipline, and when did you start really “doing” it? Those of you without children: I value your thoughts, too; how would you handle it, and what is your experience, and what have you observed?

Violet is asserting her very normal two-year-old need to claim some control over her little life. I respect this, I encourage this. There are tantrums, and that’s fine. When it comes to my ideas for how scenarios will go, there are some I win, some I lose, and I’m cool with that. So she refuses to get in the bathtub, often refuses to sit in her stroller or a high chair—So? So she refuses to respect our requests that she not throw food on the floor—Frustrating, but not life-threatening. So she refuses to be strapped into her car-seat or have her diaper changed—Not optional, sorry, Kid. I think these are standard scenarios in a household with a toddler, who, much like an infant or, say, a 14-year-old, is 99 percent wonderful, and, always, a human being, after all.

When it comes to discipline, Steve and I picked a few things a while back that would be “not allowed.” These included:
- messing with the TV and components in the living room (the TV in our room is fair game, when plugged in, which it is sometimes)
- hurting the cats
- climbing onto the wide shelves behind the couch

When she does these things, we “punish” them, mainly by (pretty gently) putting her on the floor. For some reason, she has always considered being put on the floor devastating. After a fairly short run of consistent responses as described, she rarely did these things. Now, when she does them (with a smirk, clearly to push the boundaries), we can usually just say, “Are you allowed to be doing that?” and she ceases.

Unfortunately, this “Are you allowed …” strategy is not translating, as I hoped it would, into other areas. Let me be specific here: This week was/is what I’ve been calling “Bruiser Week” here in Vibble-Town. Grabbing toys from kids at the park gave way to pushing kids off of mat-toys at Gym n’ Swim, which gave way, yesterday at playgroup, to shoving kids (and an adult) repeatedly and with enough force that she knocked her little friend Greta to her knees from behind.

All of this is not to mention what a tornado of destruction she was at the hostess’ house. While the nice hostess was gracious about it all and didn’t seem to care, I was concerned to see Violet so unwilling to cooperate with ANY of my requests that she, oh, stop removing framed photographs from shelves, stop breaking the leaves on plants, stop dumping beads out of bowls onto the floor, all of this repeatedly.

Once or twice is one thing, but the roughness and rudeness was over and over, despite my gentle, unemotional “reminders,” which gave way to emphatic, unemotional reminders, which gave way to my “having a talk” with her in private about it, which gave way to my referring to her as a “snot”—something I really don’t want to do within earshot of my kid (who, after all, is a GREAT KID), that’s just a personal decision, as all facets of discipline (and everything else family/parental) have to be. No offense to any other parents, it’s just something I want to try not to do myself. And this is where I need to be more disciplined.

Was I embarrassed? Eh, only a little, but not really. This playgroup is nice, and I’ve felt with these moms from the very recent beginning that no one is judging anyone, and we grant that these phases go around. If Violet is a bruiser today, it might be another kid who’s doing it next week. Also, Vibble is a free-spirited person, somewhat fearless, very exploratory. That’s who she is, so there has to be some space for that.

Mostly I was just out of tricks. My tool arsenal consists of the things described above: reminders, momentary removals from the scene, and in the extreme, the putting-on-the-floor. I think we might need more tools. I’m just not at all sure what they should be. We’re not doing spanking (again, no judgments on parents who go that route, it’s a personal decision). She’s not QUITE ready for time-out; I just can’t see how that would work right now without restraints, which, again, personal decision. Her talking/speech is still coming along, but we’re not able to “converse” about these things after the fact. Asking “Why did you do that?” gets me nowhere. And leaving playgroup or the park early would be all the same to her.

I can handle being patient with a lot of this toddler stuff—I did win the physical brawl in our living room yesterday, out of sheer stamina, over the box of Girl Scout cookies she had somehow managed to procure for herself—but I can’t have her shoving, hitting, kicking, throwing things at innocent little people—people I want her to be liked by, for her own sake. It might be normal. It’s not OK. And this week it has been increasingly aggressive, violent, reactionary.

I want to have a consistent response, after the three or so reminders—because I know toddlers actually do forget to behave. I want it to be something that deters the behavior for the immediate time-being. I am in charge here, thank goodness (“No, Vibble, you may not play in the street, scream and kick on the sidewalk all you want” [I actually said this, Thursday]). (Incidentally, I hold life-threatening behavior apart in the discipline realm; I won’t hesitate to shout loudly or very, VERY firmly and even sort of meanly when it comes to reminders she’s gotten too close to the stove, FEAR THE STOVE, LITTLE GIRL.)

Sigh. Personal decisions. But I want to form a rationale here, I want to be fair and effective. I want her to have friends who don’t drop their pail-and-shovel sets and run away when she steps foot on the playground.

So, advice? Thoughts? Recommended reads? Comment here or reply by e-mail. Meanwhile, consider this:

Thesaurus results for discipline:

1. control, training, teaching, instruction, regulation, direction, order, authority, rule, strictness, a firm hand; routine, regimen, drill, drilling

2. good behavior, orderliness, control, obedience; self-control, self-discipline, self-government, self-restraint

3. field (of study), branch of knowledge, subject, area; specialty.

[1]

The Marietta Edgars—what fun to have them out.

[2]

Aunt Debi and cousin Sam from Corvallis. An overnight to Sea World was awesome.

[3]

Some kind of awful cold. Vibble started coughing and sneezing while her grandparents were here, and her status declined as her aunt and cousin’s visit arrived. Boo. She is a sad little coldling. Not feeling so great myself, so please forgive the short entry. We did get some nice photos, though, so enjoy!

Tuesday I woke to find a feral child crouched in the room. She refused to be bathed, despite several days’ odor and a face caked in day-old ketchup. Any moves toward the bathtub elicited primal shrieking. Piece by piece, I removed her clothes over the length of an hour. Each clothing item required strategic immobilization of the child’s strong, flailing limbs. Finally, she was down to just the diaper. I had filled a bucket with warm bathwater and brought it to the TV. She eyed it suspiciously. She refused to go near it. I turned off the TV and explained that if Caillou was to continue, a certain little bum would have to be sitting in a certain bucket of water. The young primate threw itself to the floor and grabbed and threw nearby objects, all the while eliciting a wail we refer to here in the city as “noise pollution.”

I slowly cornered the creature. The volume of screams increased. As I tore at her diaper, she shifted her screams from primal wails to a repeated shout of the word “STINKY! STINKY!”

“Yes,” I said, “You are stinky.”

“STINKY! STINKY!”

I turned on the TV and stuck her in the bucket, where she stiffened and howled. With one arm around her waist, I quickly soaped and rinsed the feral child. I soaked myself and the carpet, but a scientific curiosity drove me to want to see what was underneath the strata of ketchup. Then, I had an idea. Perhaps the fickle creature was not interested in Caillou today. I stretched an arm to the TV, flipping up the channels as quickly as I could to reach Dora.

My hypothesis was correct. The creature giggled and sank into the bucket, allowing me to wash her hair without protest. As a result, I was able to determine that the animal was in fact a cute little girl who is in a phase of Refusal to Bathe and who, admittedly adorably, now says all kinds of words, like “shoe” and “thank you!” and the ever-popular “STINKY!,” still needs to learn to just let it be known when all she really wants is to change the channel.

What you are witnessing in this photo is this: I was cleaning up the kitchen, and Vibble went and got this empty grocery bag and proceeded to do some “shopping” in the pantry. She filled the bag, and even though she dumped a LOT of spaghetti all over the place, I thought it was SO CUTE, so I went and got my phone to take this photo … and AS I SNAPPED IT, she dumped the cats’ water bowl into the bag, soaking the entire contents. STINKER! Soggy spaghetti, anyone?

We’ve been enjoying a wonderful visit from my mom, and she shall henceforth be referred to as “The Groundhog,” because I asked Vibble to say “Grandma,” and she said something like “Gruh,” and of course my mother was THA-RILLED, but then Stevel said, “It sounded more like ‘Groundhog’ to me.” And with that, a nickname is born.

This trip will be memorable to me as the Trip When Violet Refused to Sleep Because GROUNDHOG IS HERE. How many times can you tell someone Good Night, child???

We lucked out with gorgeous weather for the birthday party. Violet’s Big Oh-Two was ushered in with hot dogs, presents, cupcakes (Thanks for the cupcakes, David!), a playground, and lots of friends in their 20s, 30s and 40s. Awesome!

Today we took Violet swimming during open pool time at the Y. As my mom described it, “Sheer joy.” Vibb was beside herself with happiness at having the pool all to herself and two people to “swim” around with.

And so, she is two. But we have sort of known that for some time now. What a cutie.

PHOTOS, PHOTOS, PHOTOS

Vibble had a fever the day before yesterday, and we were still recovering yesterday. It wasn’t a huge deal, just low-grade, but it feels so wrong to have her be so hot. We tried to keep ourselves in check this time—last time she got a fever we took her to the ER, where everyone working there was basically like, “Um, yeah. CVS would have worked fine for this.” But this time she wouldn’t take the Tylenol, just kept spattering it out. And she was over 102, which we read was the borderline for “low grade.” And, and … she was SO HOT. And so sad. Finally, we found good tips online for how to get medicine into a toddler, and I gave her a lukewarm bath in the sink, and it all worked like magic, and hours later she was her old self again. Whew!

Between my not taking her around other kids so as not to expose anyone to her sickness, and the news-making El Nino rains we’re having here, she has serious cabin fever, too. We’ve got a playdate this morning at a friend’s house nearby, so hopefully that will help.

A couple of weekends ago I went to Baltimore. I had a terrific trip, checking in on friends with a lot going on in their lives, and also relaxing and laughing with friends. Vibble, meanwhile, hung out with her Dad here at home, and the two of them had a fabulous time. She is more and more into what Dad is doing, and often leaves me in whatever room I am in to go downstairs or wherever Stevel is and hang out. She loves to sit on his lap while he is at his computer, loves to wear his giant headphones, loves to watch him play video games, loves for him to read her books. What an adorable pair.

I feel like we’ve gotten past a difficult stage with a lot of tantrums into one with only a few tantrums now. She has become extremely FRIENDLY as well, and waves hello to everyone, everywhere. She loves to walk up to new people and just launch into babble. And dogs, oh man she loves dogs. At least once a week, some dog owner tells me, “You’re going to have to get this kid a dog!” I think it’s dog-owner code for, “Can you please get your kid to stop stalking me and my dog?”

We are definitely seeing improvement in her interest in talking. Still not as interested as other kids I know, but again, she demonstrates she CAN say all sorts of words and phrases, from “awesome” to “happy” to “sad” to “night-night, Mom.” She just doesn’t seem to WANT to that much, but it is improving. Her favorite word is “apple.” She says it all the time, points to the Apple icon on the Mac, or goes to the fridge and gets an apple for herself and tells us about it. She has also taken to giving us clues about what she’s been up to when we’ve been apart. When I return from the grocery store, she will run up to me all excited to tell me, “Ball! Ball!” Because she has been to the park to play with her ball. Stuff like that. She still doesn’t use words to really ask for things or express desire for things too much, although on occasion she does. Definite progress every day, enough that Steve and I compare notes every evening about the new words/phrases we’ve heard her say and new ways we’ve heard her use language that day.

The funniest has been the sound effects lately. My favorite example is this: When Steve changes her diaper, if it’s bad, he makes this involuntary face and sound, sort of like “Ug,” but more revolted-like. So Violet has started pointing to diapers and diaper-pails, cat-boxes and even cats, and making this same face and sound. Hilarious!

That’s possibly the cheesiest title I’ve ever come up with, and that’s saying a lot, considering I spent a couple of years titling articles in the ZOOgram magazine at The Baltimore Zoo. Got Cranes on the Brain? Paying Raptor Attention?

The holiday report is this:

THANKSGIVING: Anne and Auggie visited. The Hills came over, as did David, and Jeremy stopped by, as did Jeremy Jr. and Julie and Cousin-Shana. Patricia was here too. Am I forgetting anyone? We played some games, went to the playground (a bit chilly but nice to get fresh air.) We had a lovely dinner, as prepared by Jerry’s Famous Deli and picked up to-go. This is called slaving over a hot credit-card. Violet was not interested in eating one bite of this feastly feast, oh no, she had found superior nutrition in the form of a small tray of assorted trail mixes set out as appetizers. All day, all she ate: Trail mix.

CHRISTMAS: This time I got Whole Foods do the cooking, and what a tasty meal it was! We were joined by Jeremy, Melissa, David, Junior, Julie, Noelle, and Phil. We were also joined by the Wightmans, but as we did not hear the phone ring to let them in, we were denied the pleasure of their company. [Yes, in other words, we invited them and then did not answer the door when they came. We are enormous jerks. ] But in happier news, we played Pictionary and Buzz, played outside in warm sunshine, and partook of decorated cookies, mudslides, a fantastic meal, and other treats. Oh, except for Violet, who spent the day eating nothing but—you guessed it—TRAIL MIX. Again.

I got a few photos on my phone, and Melissa and Jeremy had a camera along, so one way or another, I’ll share photos with you soon. Now I need to go eat some leftovers and dump the trail mix out of my shoes.

Merry merry to you all!