There she goes…

Today I registered Violet for preschool. *sniff…happy tear…*But let’s be honest here, just one tear. I mean, a friend of mine is the class teacher, I know most of the 8 other kids, it has the reputation for having the cutest Christmas programs ever, and Violet gets to play with her “frenzz” all morning, two days a week. Where do I sign, again?

Besides, she will love it.

Those are pieces of mailing labels…

In other Violet news, I believe I’ve mentioned on this blog how much she wants to marry AJ someday. This topic can start some pretty emotionally charged discussions about why she can’t marry her dad because I already married him and I didn’t marry my dad because he was already married to my mom, who–incidentally–happens to be Violet’s grandma, but wait–is also the mom of her favorite aunt S who is also my sister, but is Grandpa’s daughter just like Violet is her daddy’s daughter and Henry’s sister.

“So, wait. Why can’t I marry my Daddy?”

Anyway, yesterday out of the blue, Violet turned to me and wailed, “But Mom, I don’t waaaaannt to get married!”

Just you wait kid, someday you might change your tune.


The Promise of Spring

My little brother is having a wee bebe. Well, not him precisely…

Needless to say, that is not my brother.

Violet is fascinated by the baby in her aunt’s tummy and has secured multiple promises to let her hold him later on.


Meet Ola

Meet Ola. He enjoys stimulating conversations…

a daily diet of bloodworms, and bits of carrot chewed up and spit out.

This SBF (Single Blue Fish) has soft brown eyes and seeks the company of an eager little girl to ensure that he lives in constant terror.

He also enjoys old movies and long walks on the beach. Interestingly enough, his star sign is Pisces–which totally explains his personality…and his appearance for that matter.

He is quite shy, but also vain.


That’s one small fillet. Might be nice poached with a bit of lemon though…

Sorry Ola.

Fish always look like they’re trying to be tough.


In Which Violet Embarrasses Her Mother

People always talk about being embarrassed by their parents when they were younger, but not enough attention is drawn to the little known but much experienced opposite. Did that make any sense? I think the only reason parents embarrass their children is because their children put them through the ringer when they were little.

Case in point: Violet proceeded to announce to the entire produce department in Haggen, that an attractive, middle-aged woman who looked to be no more than forty-five, was “A Grandma”.

(outside voice) “She a Grandma, Mom!!!”

(gentle but horrified whisper) “Violet! Shhhhh!!”

(Emphatically loud outside voice) “No! SHE A GRANDMA!!”

(Hoarse, desperate whisper) “Violet! Don’t. Talk!!!”

At this point, I turned to the woman who had earlier admired my adorable children, and apologized profusely. Graciously, she replied, “Oh, that’s okay, I actually just became a Grandma last week!”

After a desperate attempt at congratulating her for not only looking like a grandma, but actually being one, we made our way over to the apples. Violet, being tenacious and also at a stage where subtlety is not her strong suit, kept insisting to me that the lady was for sure a grandma.

“Mo-om, she a grandma–that lady a grandma!”

“Violet–just…we don’t say that to people”

“No, Mom–She OLD!”

“Violet! Shush!”

“She OOOOoooold Mom!”

I do not exaggerate when I say that there were people in the produce section just watching and laughing.


In Which Violet Scares The Living Daylights Out Of Us

I don’t know that I’d go quite so far as to say that I’m a scaredy-cat, but I am certainly aware of noises in the dark. Things that go bump in the night are also the kinds of things that keep me lying still in my bed holding my breath so I can hear if someone is breaking into my house. I know, not likely…but. AJ gets up and leaves the house for work every morning while there are still hours of darkness outside. I don’t usually go back to sleep because it’s helpful for us to be on the same sleeping schedule. This way, when we flop into bed at the end of the day I don’t spend two hours talking his ear off while his eyes glaze over.

Anyway. So yesterday morning, I laid down on my bed with the intent of reading, but I woke with a spine-shuddering jolt twenty minutes later when my bedroom door suddenly flew open.

I’ll be honest. My first response to my sweet, sleepy eyed girl bounding into the room was not a good one. It may have included some partially bleeped swear words.

It seems Violet now knows how to get out of her crib in the morning. We have purposely kept her in a crib with the sides up to hold off the inevitable as long as possible.

Fast forward to this morning. I forgot to tell AJ about this new phase. Translation? I guess he’s easily scared or something because he used up a weeks worth of adrenaline in the first half second he was awake.


Fat Tuesday

Today is Fat Tuesday. Not that I know anyone who actually celebrates it, but…

Fat Tuesday, or Mardi Gras is the day before the season of Lent, which is characterized by fasting or abstinence from certain luxuries in preparation for the celebration of Easter. It reminds me that I have something I can abstain from. It reminds me that I live in a country where I can choose to forgo food. Every three seconds, somewhere in the world, a child dies from hunger. In the time that it has taken for you to read this far, five children have already died. Five faces who reflect, as Mother Teresa once said, “Christ, in His most distressing disguise.” This year, celebrate Fat Tuesday with me. As soon as I hit “Publish” here I am heading over to World Vision to donate two chickens to a family in another country. Come join me, and experience the joy of giving.