A Whole Post About Violet

I've noticed that I write a lot more about Hazel than I do about Violet on this blog. Which is natural, I suppose, since Hazel actually, you know, does stuff. Hazel is always front and center, while little Vi is most often on the fringes. But not for long...

At five months old, our little Violet is in a big hurry to grow up. She rolls all over the house, belly to back and back to belly, looking for nothing but a good time. Lately, she's been contemplating the mechanics of scooting, and is starting to get the hang of it. She gets an object or destination in mind, and she digs her toes into the carpet and stretches, scooching her whole trunk, inch by inch, just using her tiny little toes, and she doesn't stop until she gets where she's trying to go. Her steely determination wavers only occasionally... if there's a really interesting piece of carpet schmutz in her path, for instance. Or if she starts up a conversation with her own hand.

Violet is endlessly entertained by the loud, kissy, slightly overbearing girl that is her big sister. She absolutely lights up when she sees Hazel; just beams at her, like she cannot believe her good fortune at having run into her. She screeches and laughs at her, and doesn't mind the weird, sing-songy way in which Hazel addresses her. She thinks the big, upright kid is awesome and if she knows that Hazel is in the room somewhere, she watches her intently, craning her neck and contorting her body to get the best view, and squawks and coos until Hazel notices her, too. Vi's desire to be loved by Haze is palpable, and a little bit heartbreaking in it's naked sincerety.

We call Violet The Ham. We mean it in a good way, because babies are supposed to be fat and pink and creased, much like an actual ham. We also call her the Chunkmaster, Chubs, Fatty, Plumpy Plumpster and The Fat One. We joke about her having a complex later in life, but I think she knows it's all in good fun. We tell her that curves are in this season, anyway. She has been eating rice cereal for about a month now, and she loves it - loves the whole process of it: spoon in cereal, spoon in mouth, swallow, repeat. Last night, for the first time, she sat at the table with us in the little mini-highchair thingy that straps onto a regular chair. She was a little floppy, as she hasn't quite mastered the fine art of sitting up yet, but she liked being there, eating her slop, with the rest of the family. It's nice having a kid who already enjoys food so much. Violet, in fact, demanded that we feed her, and she launched a day-long nursing strike to really drive her point home a few weeks ago. When I finally caught on to what she was asking for, and offered her a little cereal on a little spoon, she was in ecstasy. She ate two bowls full and after every spoonful, she sighed "mmmmmmmmmmm". It's a much different experience than we had with Hazel, who resisted solids until about 9 months, strongly preferring nursing, and who still has little to no interest in anything that is not macaroni and cheese. Vi will be cleaning Hazel's plate before long.

Where Hazel was our sensitive Mama's girl, Violet is Captain Easygoing. You're gonna put me back in that exersaucer thing, again, Mama? Okay. You're gonna just plop me on the carpet and let me roll myself into a corner? No sweat! She doesn't mind being wedged between the couch and the coffee table for 15 minutes at a time because, apparently, she and the couch have a lot to talk about. She loves to look at the baby staring back at her in the full-legnth closet door mirrors and she can lay on her back, opening and closing her hands, or sucking on her toes, for a good half an hour before she gets bored. You're gonna neglect me in favor of the computer some more, Mama? That's cool... I'm gonna work on dragging myself across the room to that hilarious dog over there, who's waiting for you to turn away for two seconds, so she can french me.

We've recently started putting Violet down at a regular bedtime, in her own bed. After one night of protesting, she figured out that being put down for bed meant she was supposed to go to sleep, so she did. She carried that nononsense attitude over into naptime, too, and has been napping for at least an hour and a half, twice a day (a far cry from 20 minutes here, 40 minutes there, which was her previous schedule). She comes into bed with Mike and I sometime after midnight and wakes up around 7, cooing, smiling, stretching and farting. She wakes up in the best mood, so happy to see Mama and Dada, so ready for Hazel to come in and smother her with kisses. This is a kid who just loves her life. Our little Buddha.

When I was pregnant with Violet, I would try to imagine myself in various everyday situations my two girls: The Whole Foods scenario, in which the screaming baby would be in the sling, needing to nurse, and Hazel careening dangerously through the store with her little mini-cart, giving innocent passersby bruised ankles. The airport scenario, in which the screaming baby is in the sling, diaper full of poop, and Hazel is in the red stroller, whining and complaining and being bribed to stay quiet through the security lines with lollipops. I must say, it's not really as hard as I daydreamed it would be with two kids to manage; or rather, Violet's mellow and happy personality makes it easier than it could be. The screaming doesn't really happen much (the pooping is another story). I know that all this could change in a heartbeat, so right now, I'm really appreciative of the fact that she's happy just being awake, being alive, being around us. She's our little flower, our Happy Ham, and we are thrilled to bits by every little thing she does.