From upstairs: “Mom! Mom! Help! There’s poop on my hand!”

No sticker for that.

Oh, and Violet, lay off the raisins, k?

Violet’s first ballet class was today, and it was THE cutest thing I have ever witnessed. SO cute you might throw up when you see these photos. Seriously.

And here are photos from Violet’s and my journey to the South and from a visit from Steve’s mother. Hooray!

So far, Age Three is just fantastic.

Me: “Violet, sit properly in that chair, please.”
Violet: “[Sigh] Calm down, calm down.”

—

Violet: “Mommy? You go to school?”
Me: “Yes! I love school!”
Violet: “Mommy? You go to Mommy School?”

Violet is such a lucky girl. She has three grandmas.

For Violet’s birthday, my mom visited us in California. My mom has six grandchildren. She goes by “Mama.” Violet has decided to call her “Grandma.”

A couple of week ago, Steve’s moher came for a visit. Anne has two grandchildren. The oldest has always called her “Nana.” WE have always called her “Nana.” Violet has decided to call her “Grandma.”

Now we are here in Georgia visiting my dad and stepmother. Pauline has three grandchildren. She has always gone by “Grandmother.” Guess what Violet calls her? You guessed it: “Grandma.”

Message: She loves all her grandmas just as much … A TON! (Violet is just a huge fan of grandmas.)

Violet continued to produce yellow-green snot at record volumes. She doesn’t like when it drains down the back of her throat; she spits frequently, like a professional baseball player from the 80s.

She has been using the potty here in Georgia with 90 percent success. Woo hoo!!!

We went shopping, and as we were about to pass a biker-looking guy with a beard and doo-rag, Violet shouted, “Pirate ship!” As in, Look! A pirate! Practicing my apologetic, oh-aren’t-kids-just-so-darn-cute look …

I haven’t had a lot of time to write here, but this week, someone else is doing most/all of the housework. With potty training off to a jagged start, housework involves a lot of laundry and steam-cleaning and emptying of an elaborate, pink-plastic chamber-pot with images of three Disney princesses on the lid and a musical “flush” handle. (Out of all of the potties on the Intenet, it was her favorite one.)

We are in Georgia, and can I just brag a moment: My wild little critter is one solid traveler. Removes her shoes and backpack with no prompting and puts them in a bin. Helps her mom by holding onto her tot-handle all over the airport and helping to pull our carry-on duffel. Waits patiently, embaces the adventure, and is an enormous hit with fellow passengers.

Not long after we sat down, she pointed excitedly across the aisle at a woman with a pet carrier and said, “Look, Mom! She has a doggie in her purse!” How very cute she is.

Thanksgiving was lovely. Thankers included the Hills of Irvine, Jeremy Sr., Xtine, David, David Gordon, and us. And Connie and Eric and Chelan stopped by. We enjoyed a bit of the beautiful day over in the park. Whole Foods supplied a delicious dinner. Megan supplied delicious pies. The kids played nicely. It was just a really great day.

Since then, Vibble’s had an on-and-off fever. When the fever is on, she just wants to watch BBC Oceans or Road Runner and snuggle. Poor hot little thing.

It’s been a hectic couple of months here. Sick, well, sick, well, sick, well … adventures, sleep-cycle-shifts, a two-year-old who opens the fridge and gets what she wants out of it. Who loves her friends fiercely but has a quick temper and a mean right hook. Who had to be held down at the dentist, but got over it long before her mother did (guess only one of us was traumatized by that whole stitches incident). Who mostly eats eggs and lollipops and bread. Who reads her books a lot, but is otherwise rarely still, or, if she is, is still in an upside-down yoga pose of some kind. Who needs a lot of jumpies and outlets for her go-go-go, and who is pretty damned impressive in her agility (everyone says so, we’re rather proud of her). Who doesn’t use the potty yet, but does sometimes enjoy sitting on the potty for a long time … only to hop off and pee on the floor, and then get back on (I’m not in any rush to potty train—I actually like diapers, with all of their control and convenience and predictability—so in your own time, Vibble, that’s fine). Who is only willing to get dressed if watching TV, and none of that Dinosaur Train, that’s way too tame [rolls eyes], give her Spongebob [wince] or [double-wince] Dora, or something similarly shouty and strobe-like in imagery, with commercials for things she drags me to the TV to show me, like, Did you know about this? A Barbie CONDO? Electronic hamsters? A baby doll that not only walks but falls on its FACE??? (Oh, look at that, you’re all dressed now! [Click.])

Who responds to the darkened screen on the TV-that’s-hooked-up-to-cable by saying dramatically, “Oh no! What HAPPENED?”

Who responds to the Apple-TV-TV by dumping toys out of containers to use those containers as stacking step-stools in her quest to be as close to the actual screen as humanly possible. (Is your name Violet, or VIOLET-GET-DOWN? I forget.)

Who is squarely in the “MINE!” phase. Which is tense for parents on the playground. Thankfully, our playgroup is a more comfortable place to work on that. Unfortunately, Vibble is about an 8.5 on the “MINE!” Richter Scale. Familiar scene: Here comes one of Violet’s friends in tears, possibly injured; and here comes Violet happily behind, holding some toy. We’re working on this, we all are. Violet included. I think, actually, she works pretty hard to be even that good. Fight the demons, Honey.

Who is truly a marvel in her gymnastics class, even if she outright rejects the concepts of “class” and “teacher” and “Hey, look, here’s what we’re all doing now … Oh? No? Not you? Um, ok …” (Wait, is your name Violet, or VIOLET-STAY-WITH-YOUR-TEACHER, I forget.)

Who love-love-loves to paint! EVERYTHING! Paper is for wussies, don’t you know. Paint your face, paint your toys, paint your friends!

Who is now aware when her photo is being taken.

Who sincerely enjoys live entertainment of any kind.

Who blows our minds with what she remembers.

Who misses her parents when we’re apart, but who has a good time without us, too.

Who says to me throughout the day, “Hi, how are you?”

Who wants her shoes off, but would wear the same dress forever if she had her way. (Doesn’t matter which one, just don’t take it off, it’s MIIIINNNNNEEEE! Same with the diaper. “Oh no! MINE! What HAPPENED?!”)

Oh, it HAS to be a dress. A dress makes the best disguise. (“What a cute little—OW! It bit me!”)

Who is still not talking too much, but who is about to start getting a little more help with that, and a few other things, for a bit. (Recent conversation … Friend: “Wow, she has her own little language!” Steve: “Yeah, we’re hoping she learns our language soon.”)

Who has begun to play imaginatively in the most adorable ways, especially with her dress-up play clothes and in her little kitchen. (I think this is my favorite little-kid phase of all, with each of the kids I know.)

Who secretly knows all kinds of things—her shapes, for instance—but isn’t always willing to let on. Again, the theme here is: ON HER TERMS. Always. We’ve learned through extensive experimentation that with this kid, forcing/enforcing anything is generally counter-productive, no matter how committed/consistent we are. It just rarely leads where we want to go, in so many ways. She’s not in charge, far from it, and she often has to do things she doesn’t want to do. But we’ve had to adopt a parenting style that allows for a lot of flexibility and a diagnostic approach—’Why is she doing XYZ? Why does she object to ABC?’ If we can figure out the “why” with her, and talk about it, and address it, and oftentimes, just show an awareness of it, we make a lot more headway. She’s just not someone who is very often open to suggestion. She doesn’t really care if she pleases us, or if she is doing what everyone else is doing. She doesn’t respond to threats, and she only sort of responds to rewards. She’s moody, and sometimes the “why” is simply that: She’s in a mood, and it will pass in ten minutes, at which time she will be more than happy to cease being naked in this parking lot and let me put on her clothes so we can join her friends or her class inside. Meanwhile, she prefers to sit on this parking space marker and sing “Whistle While You Work,” and all attempts to force her into clothes will involve trauma for everyone. So be it. I have an iPhone, and it’s been ages since I skimmed Facebook. Sing away, naked kid! We’ll go in when you’re good and ready. Maybe she has us trained. Maybe we all have each other trained. I guess that’s kind of what family is to me, though—I know you, you know me, we know each other’s sensitivities and quirks, and while we don’t walk on eggshells, we are considerate of them … that’s why we trust each other enough to know that when one of those “quirks” comes into question, it might be because it’s for our own good/growth to have it challenged. (I did warn you in the title that this would be a stream-of-consciousness entry. But I DIDN’T warn you it would be so PROFOUND! Heh.)

This is all to say, Violet is at an amazing stage right now. She’s a strong personality, vibrantly individual. This can be frustrating for her parents sometimes, but it’s also the thing we are most proud of in her. There is nothing—NOTHING—she can’t do. Nothing she won’t try. Fearless.

Uh, oh, someone is crying upstairs now. Fever back on. We’re going to get you well, sad little toughie, so you can get back to blowing wasabi kisses at the world.

Good night.

Tonight we had sushi, and Vibble got her hands on some of Steve’s wasabi … put it in her mouth before we could stop her.

She is not fazed by wasabi.

Violet: 1
Wasabi: 0

It’s the morning after our second night in a row of toddler insomnia. Is this common, does anyone know? I’m not exaggerating here: This kid is operating on about three or four hours of sleep right now. (Steve and I got more like two or three.) Night before last, same thing. She did take a nap yesterday, which is rare anymore, but still … I think we are all three about to crack. I need to go hit the Diet Pepsi now. Hard.

Today I woke up around 8:30 and got to work preparing a dish to put in the slow cooker I got for my birthday. I still hate cooking, but so far the slow cooker is exciting to use, so that helps. And it means I can do the prep work when I feel more into it (late afternoons are so not my best time of day).

Vibble joined me at around 9. She got to work removing toys from her toy kitchen and creating an obstacle course in the kitchen. Then we all got dressed and went to Kay n’ Dave’s and then to the Brentwood Country Mart to walk around a bit and buy a princess book at Diesel.

Next we tried to go see Aladdin at the Black Box Theater, but it was cancelled. What is UP with cancelled stuff this week?? We were all scheduled to take an overnight sleeper-car train trip to Albuquerque on Wednesday, but a freight derailment in Arizona meant that was a no-go (they offered us an 11-hour overnight bus ride in exchange, which we politely declined).

So yeah, no Aladdin today (maybe tomorrow), so we walked a bit and came home and played with Play-Do for a while, then Vibble and I took a nap while Stevel worked on some code for his apps.

Post-nap Vibble played a while and then wanted to watch a princess sing-along DVD. We had the slow-cooker dinner—chicken tangine, I think it’s called?—and hosted some friends to share it with us. After dinner, we all—me, Violet, Stevel, Christine, David, and Jeremy-on-his-bike-with-lights-and-sound-system—walked to the frozen yogurt by-the-ounce place. Yum! Violet rocked out in her stroller on the walk home to the music Jeremy was playing on his bike.

Back to No. 6 for some YouTube surfing, and finally had to tell everyone goodbye. Violet was really bummed her friends were leaving. She stood in the middle of the living room expressing this with gestures and sighs and sad faces. But now Steve is putting her to sleep, and I’m about to join them.

That’s our Saturday. Hope yours was as nice.

Violet came upstairs and got me, and by this I mean she grabbed my hand and pulled with all her might. All the while she was exclaiming excitedly, “Poop! Poop! Mama! Poop!”

“Did you poop somewhere?” I said. (This happens sometimes, and she was naked, after all, it being the post-morning-bath hour[s]. The potty training here is going … interestingly. I’ll post on that soon.)

So she practically dragged me down the stairs.

“Where’s the poop?” I kept asking. It was only 9:30, and I had already cleaned up cat poop off of the floor, swept up an entire box of crackers dumped and crushed on the kitchen linoleum, and washed lollipop out of this kid’s hair [note: hair-washing = screamy time], so I was asking this question with a bit of a sigh, mind you.

“Poop! Mama! Mama! Poop!”

At last we arrived at her destination: The TV. Ah, yes. I had turned on the movie Mary Poppins to calm her down post-hair-washing-screamy-time. Of course! It was the scene where our heroine, Ms. Poppins, aka “Pinches” [Princess], aka “POOP,” arrives at the Banks household, and Violet could not contain her enthusiasm about this turn of events. She was compelled to come get me, to show me what was happening because OMG TOO AWESOME! The Pinches is here! On our TV! Mary Poppins! POOP herself!

Ha, “Poop.” Thanks, Vibble, I needed that this morning.

Vibble just got her hands on a book I had been reading and scribbled all over the inside cover and on a bunch of the pages, with pen. Not that she’d be in “trouble,” per se, as a two-year-old, BUT I can hardly even be upset, given that it was THIS BOOK she chose for her endeavor.

Yeah, she wins.

Dear Family and Friends,

I’m feeling too out of touch with you guys, and I can’t seem to find a good time to call or message anyone. I’m sorry about that. It seems our window of East-coast-evening-meets-that-beginning-of-Violet’s-nap-time is out of whack, especially with Violet’s refusing to nap a lot of days now, and making calls with her awake? Yeah, that’s just not working. So please know you’re on my mind, and I am eager to know what’s new in your lives. E-mail me if you get time, and I will keep trying to call you. Things may improve as we settle back into a schedule here with our fall activities and with staying HOME.

Summer was a bit of a blur. I haven’t even printed any photos from our trips, and I usually have those in albums and frames by now. Life is challenging with this phase in Vibble’s toddler career. She stages a protest about anything and everything. These protests range from sit-ins, to scream-ins, to running away and going missing in a department store for long enough to take several years off of the end of my life. I feel like I have eight kids, and their name is Violet. She is suddenly into princesses (or, as she calls them, “pinches”) in a scary huge way. The demands for us to set up looping “pinches” bits on Youtube have reached a frightening level of violence here. Enough that I got on amazon.com yesterday and overnighted Snow White on DVD. It was THAT BAD. Here’s hoping it works. I certainly can’t watch anymore Mary Poppins (also a “pinches” around here), or you will be visiting me in a padded cell where I am rocking back and forth in the corner singing Chim-Chimeny to myself.

Violet continues to amaze us with her personality. She is incredibly secure and confident. She has the typical toddler magic-energy but is exceptionally physical and agile. She is an adventurer, a fearless explorer, a TOUGH little TOUGHIE. She’s been spending a lot of time with her friend Greta lately, and since she and Greta were born the same week, comparisons are fascinating. Greta is advanced in her speech and logic. Violet … not so much. Violet talks when Violet wants to talk. And when she doesn’t? It’s “Ef you, I’m busy climbing this bookshelf to perform some stunt whereby I dive to this chair and then to the TV to turn it back on.” Greta is sensitive, in a way that will be both her greatest asset and, I think, her biggest challenge in life. Violet, like I said, is a tough little toughie. A bubbling burn the size of a quarter on her elbow from the fireplace in the rental condo? Wah-wah for two minutes and it is never mentioned again. A fall out of a chair onto her head? Whatevs. My friend has goldfish crackers and I want some? Suck it, “Friend,” I’m taking these, and here’s a shove, too. (You can imagine the Violet-and-Greta relationship requires a lot of supervision. If you play Mario, we liken Greta to Luigi, and Violet to Wario.) If sensitivity will be Greta’s asset and challenge, this toughness will be Violet’s. Because who wants to be friends with Wario? Only someone as sweet as Greta. But, too, such a tough girl is unstoppable.

Incidentally, Greta’s initials are GBL, so, in line with our VBL=Vibble formula, we call her Gibble. Or, when they are together, the Two Ibbles. Violet’s other friends include Jude (a darling boy who keeps track of his pals like a shepherd), Emme (who has a lot of fire herself), Avery (Run, run, RUN!), Brienna (who gives Violet a run for her money in the ring), Chelan (a sweetheart), and Christopher, who hides keys and knows more sign-language than I know English. All of these kids have a lot of soul. No lie. We know some extremely special kids right now.

In addition to “pinches,” here are a few quick translations from the Vibble lexicon at present:
- “I want Beep-Beep” — This means she wants to watch Road Runner.
- “I want Hey Hey” — This means she wants to watch Fat Albert. (She loves Fat Albert.)
- “I want Momide” — This means she wants to watch Madeline.
- “I want Bib-Boo” — This means she wants to watch Cinderella.

Yeah, that’s what most of her requests are like. We have to keep a serious eye on how much screen-time she gets in each day. If she had her way, she would watch TV without eating or sleeping or playing or ever putting on pants. (Well, pants in general are unpopular.) But what she really needs is high-impact physical activity every day, or else she gets punchy. Too much brain-centric occupation stresses her out, and even art projects don’t absorb her focus for long—unless they too become physically focused (textures are awesome, and painting on paper is SO LAST SEASON, the paints really do look better on her face). She is a very tangibility-centered person; always wants to touch people (sorry, guy-in-front-of-us-on-the-bus!) and stop in the middle of the intersection to feel the texture of the road. This is either a quirk or serious OCD, but it makes for very sweet cuddle times, because she loves to caress an arm while she snuggles.

She just started gymnastics at a place that has a preschool associated with it, and the plan is, once she gets comfortable there after enough mommy-and-me gymnastics (many months down the road, mind you), we try some school. Since it’s a program with a very physical outlet attached to it, I think it might be just the right fit for our little wackadoo.

Sorry if I’m all over the map with this post. I’m jacked-up on migraine medicine and trying to type out as much as I can before the Pinches wakes up and starts making demands. What else do I need to fill you in on …

We had a really nice week in lovely Tahoe with Steve’s mother and Auggie. I took my leave for a few days to go to Burning Man, which was an escape into a world of fun and creativity for me. It was way too hard to be off the grid, though, without my little munchkin, so I cut it half a day short. Somehow it gets harder and harder to be apart from her, as it seems to get easier and easier for HER to be apart from ME. I am only more attached, as she is more and more independent. Who invented this ratio? How bad is it going to get? (Mom, I know you’ll have an answer for that—one that makes the Internet cry!) But Burning Man was wonderful, and I look forward to going back, perhaps for a longer stay sometime. And for those of you who know Burning Man, no, I didn’t do anything wildly out of character for me. It was fun enough to have a mug of wine and wear a cowgirl hat and prom dress while climbing a statue or riding my bike toward the lasers.

I haven’t been doing much writing, but I do feel creative. It turns out parenting is a pretty creative endeavor, and I am lucky to have made some VERY creative mom-friends here. Together with my friends from grad school, friends through Steve, and others, I feel surrounded by creative people these days, and it’s inspiring. You should see what I made out of Play-Do the other day!

Speaking of Stevel, he is doing really well on a lot of fronts. A bit overworked, but I’m so proud of his progress on his iPhone apps and with the software he works on at Sony, which is about to be used at a number of effects houses. This is a huge deal, and he, with his team, has bent over backwards and turned his brain inside-out to make it a reality. He’s truly a marvel of a man! And all of this while being the sweetest, most patient, most adoring dad—it’s clear Violet feels very safe with him, very loved … and completely in charge. “Dad, come on …” she says as she drags him to the fridge for a half-hour session of I-can’t-decide-what-I-want-from-this-fridge or insists he play “My-oh” (Mario) to entertain her (as long as he doesn’t start to die [bleep bleep bleep], in which case she—”Oh no! Oh no!”—gets a little freaked out).

I can’t think of anything else to report just now. It was a wonderful summer, and I loved connecting with friends and family and enjoyed the many adventures. And now I’m looking forward to a few months of ho-hum routine. Ahhh.

Oh, and P.S. If you haven’t seen “Fantastic Mr. Fox,” I finally got around to watching it, and it’s my new favorite movie. Hot box.

P.S.S. Some photos of all of this

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!”