It’s the question on everyone’s mind, and I can finally answer it: At a little over two months old, Violet weighs 10 pounds, 3 ounces, and is 21.75 inches long. On Thursday, she had her first round of inoculations. Here’s what it was like:

First, the three of us went into the tiny room where Dr. N. does his exams. He weighed and checked over the baby, and she cooed and was happy. We were all happy: The kid is very healthy (aside from her sad little cold), and it turns out making her poop when she waits a little too long is going to be as easy as, according to our old-school pediatrician, “cutting your pinky fingernail as low as you can and putting your pinky up there.” Happy, happy, happiness!

Then Dr. N.’s assistant came in, and the two of them held down our daughter and jammed three two-inch needles into the sweet, chubby muscles in her legs. These needles were fucking enormous. This betrayal elicited shrieks of pain from our baby and sobs from her mother. Fortunately, her dad was able to remain composed enough despite his anxiety to continue looking at her and talking to her throughout the ordeal. Now, though, he says he will forever be in her mind “the face of pain” by association. (Somehow, I doubt this, because he alone seems allowed to use the nose-vac without Vibble flailing her head; since, with her cold, this allows her to be able to breathe enough to eat, he is perhaps more key to her survival right now that I am, even with my boobs and everything.)

After the shots were over, Vibble recovered instantly, whereas I still require hourly doses of Valium. Steve and Violet debriefed with some Nuk-sucking time, and Violet completed her recovery with her favorite activity, lookin’ around. In this bath photo, you can see the blur of her Snoopy leg Band-Aids.

Speaking of poop, Stevel and I have made the realization that we bring up this subject way too much with our friends when they come over. Our friends are patient with us, but we seem unable to stop ourselves from talking about Vibble’s bowel movements as if they are the most interesting subject on Earth. We go on and on—When did she poop last? Was it a big one? When might she poop next?—and only clue in that it’s going on after our friends have been silent participants in the conversation for a long time. The reason we do this is because this really IS the most interesting thing on Earth—to US. It’s one of our primary discussion topics when we’re together, and we keep each other very up-to-date about it and even call each other to the changing table to witness extraordinary poops. I mean, we’re a couple; I wouldn’t want to selfishly hog such an event.

Anyway, I was thinking that for our friends’ sake, I could use this blog more often as an outlet for my need to discuss the subject. So, for your information, Violet’s last poop was more than 24 hours ago, and we’re entering Code Yellow status. Code Yellow does not require any pinky nail trimming (see Code Brown status). It simply means we’d really like to see some poop soon, because we know that at some point in the next 6 hours or so she will get grumpy about it. Also because it means Steve’s requests to Violet that she deliver batches of less poop, more often, are being ignored, and when it finally does come about, we can expect an explosive poo-bomb. I don’t know if this is common with babies or what, but when she poops, it’s a war-time, take-cover kind of event. She truly launches the mustard. The force drives poop outward to the edges of her diaper, and sometimes beyond—Containment Alert! Containment Alert! If the EPA and NASA get any free time, I’m convinced this is energy that could be harnessed to light and air-condition Los Angeles for years.

Meanwhile, I went to CVS with Vibb in her stroller just now, and this is relevant because it involves baby gas, an important indicator of BM schedule status. We’ve been using Burt’s Bees diaper ointment, which smells like patchouli. Since I associate patchouli-smell with pot for some reason, when I caught whiff of that scent in the candy aisle, my first thought was, ‘Oh my God, someone’s smoking pot at CVS!’ Then I realized it was just my baby’s ass. Anyway, maybe there will be a launch soon.

Meanwhile, Violet’s Aunt Debi is here from cold, rainy Corvallis. She’s enjoying the 100-plus degree weather today and hanging out with her niece. She took these family photos for us:

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And now let the gushy grandparent comments begin …