Neighbors,

I’ve been meaning to e-mail all of you about Violet’s increasing volume, and then yesterday one of our neighbors alerted me that it’s been keeping some neighbors awake at night. I really apologize. We try to keep the windows closed when she’s really wailing, but sometimes we forget; if this happens, please don’t hesitate to call us.

I know she’s gotten quite loud and very screamy. Our Little Bundle of Joy has really turned into Our Little Bundle of Noise. Some of it has to do with pain, and some of it is her way of communicating. I thought you might like to know what it is you’re hearing at all hours, so here is a guide:

Shriek-ometer level: 1
She’s asleep, and her pacifier has fallen out.

Shriek-ometer level: 2
She wants something, and we are playing the What-do-you-want game. Is it this? This? Milk? No? Juice? Pick up? Crackers? … This game has gotten more and more complicated as she’s become more specific in her desires. The other day we did this until I figured out, somehow, she wanted me to open the shape-sorter toy and remove the purple oval.

Shriek-ometer level: 2, followed by adult shrieking “Ouch!”
I hope when she learns to talk we can stop playing the aforementioned game, especially since it involves a lot of her chucking at our faces the things we give her that AREN’T what she wants. Full sippy cup of milk = ouch. Sometimes, to be emphatic, she will throw it, then pick it up and throw it again. Ouch OUCH.

Shriek-ometer level: 3
This one is specific for “Give me a pacifier and turn on Sesame Street so I can zombie-out for a while.” A while ago we downloaded about a dozen episodes on iTunes/Apple-TV. She has been watching these same episodes over and over, probably 50 times each. She loves them. No other TV show comes close to soothing the shrieky beast like this one does.

Shriek-ometer level: 4
She’s done eating, and someone is trying to wipe off her face and hands. GOD FORBID.

Shriek-ometer level: 4.5
Someone is trying to strap her into a car-seat or stroller. This shriek is typically short in duration, as once she is all strapped in, she’s happy as a clam.

Shriek-ometer level: 5
She’s tired and one of us is trying to help her fall asleep. She has always been sobby when she’s tired. If this lasts all her life, I might have to teach her college roommate how to swaddle her.

Shriek-ometer level: 6
Teething shriek. Her teeth have been popping in one after the other, and it clearly makes her head hurt, her stomach hurt, and, obviously, her mouth hurt. She grabs all of these pained places, including reaching into her open mouth to grab at her gums, to let us know about it. Frozen teethers help.

Shriek-ometer level: 7
Someone is trying to change her diaper or clothes. This shriek is actually MEANT for YOU, Neighbors, and specifically translates to “Call Social Services! They are abusing me!”

Shriek-ometer level: 8
She’s hurt. Poor kid. The more she stands up and takes a step here and there, the more she seems to injure herself. Our baby-proofing efforts can’t take away how hard the floor is, or how sharp the corner on that shelf is, or how much it hurts to fall on top of a trash can and split your lip open.

Shriek-ometer level: 9
She’s having her hair washed. She loves to play in the bathtub, but this part—well, she’s not a fan.

Shriek-ometer level: 25
We have just told her no. No, Violet, you may NOT climb up to the shelf behind the couch. No, you may not open the oven door. No, you can’t have the scissors. No, we do not eat rubber bands. Her suicide missions mostly involve attempts to climb very, very high and then wiggle backwards over the edge of something. Being told no makes her very angry. VERY! ANGRY! We’ve started trying to set some boundaries, to have some things be “against the rules,” with simple consequences, like setting her on the floor. This shriek means, “Screw your boundaries. And screw you. And screw all of 26th Street, THEY WILL ALL KNOW MY SUFFERING!” I am so, so sorry, and I promise we will keep this to daytime.

She has so many sweet little sounds, too, and it’s too bad these aren’t what you hear. The little “language” she speaks, mostly burbles and “la la la”s, is cuter than cute. She gives us kisses, waves bye-bye, and continues to be the giggliest baby I’ve encountered. Cookie Monster = HILARIOUS! She loves to dance, and as soon as music starts playing, she bobs her head up and down. She pets the cats now, mostly gently (sometimes she can’t resist Linus’s ears). And she roams the house on all fours, making rounds of the toy boxes and non-toy boxes she THINKS are toy boxes (e.g. laundry baskets) and removing all objects from them.

Here is a link to some very recent photos taken by a friend of ours. He called the set “Belly Poker,” because while he was here taking these photos, Violet kept poking his belly button.

http://jeremedia.com/photos/set/belly_poker!

Thanks again for your patience in these early years with Violet. She’s a wonderful child, and we appreciate the fact that you have to listen to some of her growing pains. You are all living proof that it really does take a village, one with plenty of ear-plugs.

Kristan