Days of Sun.

6:00 am, I hear little footsteps pitter-pattering into our bedroom.

"Mom?" she says, as if she can't see me cozy in my bed

"Yes?" I reply. Dear LORD why time is it anyway? I glance over at my nightstand. 

"You need to get up. I need to go somewhere." She says as she darts out of the room, only to come back with a  footstool to reach my bedside.

"It's too early go to anywhere. Bring some books and you can read in my bed."

"You need to read to me." She's too smart for her own good. 

"I'm tired. You got up three times last night!" I say, realizing that I'm whining to my two and a half year old.

"I need to go see someone.I want to go outside.I need to put clothes on.I want my vitamins.I need a smoothie.I want to go see grandpa.I want to go to the zoo.I want to paint something. I want to take a shower. You need to feed Joe Sam.Where is daddy???" She spews out.

I don't reply. Silence for about 10 seconds sweeps across my sleepy bedroom.

"MOM!" she jolts me with her tiny hands.

"The sun is UP! GET OUT OF BED."

Dear Violet, rest while you can. 

There are so many days of sun left for you to follow.

Don't be anything else..

or

like mother like daughter?

Dear Violet,

Please always remember, that no matter what family member you resemble at any given stage in life. You are uniquely, you.  You are not just a set of your mom's eye's or similar similar energy we both get from being in groups of people. You are more than your dad's coloring and inflatable zeal. You my sweet girl, are unparalleled to anything else on this earth. You are Violet,  in boundless species of flora of the fields. I promise to not let the comparisons get in the way of you, being you.

Love, Mom

the world spins madly on.

Days have quickly turned into weeks in our little pocket of the world. Months filled with events, there is hardly an open day on our calender.  I often find myself caught in between wishing for some down time, and loving the lack of down time we have each week. I suppose somewhere in the middle would be nice. After all, those little moments where I catch my breath and enjoy the simplicity of Violet making a mess of her pasta is what sticks out most in my memory.

 Jake's family came up for Violet's birthday weekend. We all mosied down to the school a couple blocks from my house.  We threw the ball around for the dog, ran barefoot on the grass and I imagined the day I would walk Violet to school on her first day of kindergarten.  The air was thick, but it didn't stop us from gallivanting on the jungle gym, or pumping our legs hard on the swing set. I miss those days of that kind of freedom. 

We have had our fair shake at local playgrounds. And to our dismay, there wasn't a whole lot of interest. Until that day, when Violet waltzed up the stairs and threw herself down the tallest, windiest slide she could find. No forewarning or anything. Do you see her face of  sheer thrill and utter fear? Thankfully Pop was at the end of the slide to catch her. She did this a couple of more times until she announced she was "scare-reded".

After many mock birthday songs, and candle-blowing out practice, when the day came, Violet was like an old pro. We all sang to her, and she stood proudly standing on her chair. A smile beaming from ear to ear.  There couldn't have been a better moment in this two year old's life.

This is the sweet little kitchen set my father in law built for Violet. I can't seem to pull her away from it. My sister in law Hillary bought a bunch of mini pots and pans, and my Mom found a whole bag of toy food at a yard sale. Violet has picked up most of my mannerisms in the kitchen and pretty accurately imitates. She asks me, "Mama, whatchu wanta'eat?"  "No. you can't have dat, I'll make you spaghetti." She tells me.  I make sure to tell Violet, "It's not your job to be in the kitchen you know... You can do anything you want, like a doctor, a engineer, an artist. Anything". (I'm trying to show her there are no gender roles in this house) She stares at me blankly. My father in law pointed out that we aren't teaching Violet she belongs in the kitchen, we are teaching her hospitality through means of food.  I felt better after that.

 It seems to be wedding season. We have four wedding from now until December. And three out of four of them we are participating in.

My parents at my little sister before her wedding. Doesn't she look beautiful? My parents officially have empty nest syndrome. (My brother is getting married in December)

You never really quite know if your flower girl(s) or ring barer is going to make it down the isle.  And in the end, who really cares. It's a novelty right? It's something cute for people to look at. Violet sure did make it down the isle, we even had to pry her off of the stage. My cousin, whose daughter was the other flower girl, reminded the girls to make sure they threw their peddles on the floor as they were walking down. Violet got to the front of the stage, and announced, "OH yah.." then took her basket and dumped the whole thing out on the front steps. Show stealer.

My sweet Flower girl.

The world spins madly on, and all we can do it try to keep up and enjoy every moment.

I wouldn't trade it for the world.

Dear Violet,

It's hard for me to say it out loud, let a lone type it... but in three short months you are going to be 2 years old. In each passing day, you have a new and special way of reminding me that you aren't my tiny little baby anymore. When I come and get you from your crib in the morning you greet me by saying, "Hi Mommy, I sept wahl" (I slept well), Daddy work?" I tell you that yes Dad is at work. Then you ask, "I see Daddy?" I respond, "Not yet, when he comes home from work you can see Daddy". You proceed to  list all the people in our life you think are at work, "Ama (Grandma) work? Ganpa work? Kiki (Nikki) work? Oncle Geg (uncle greg) work?" This list goes on and on. It's a conversation that, with out fail, happens every-single-day. I wouldn't trade it for the world.

For breakfast almost every morning I make you a spinach, blueberry, banana  & strawberry smoothie. you love to hear the noise of the blender. "VRROOOOOOOM!" you squeal with delight. I put the smoothie in a bowl and give you a spoon  ( and open cup has proven to be a sad thing for my Persian rug). As you eat your smoothie you insist I sit in the empty chair next to you at the kitchen table, "Mama sit? Mama sit?" You ask me to sit in question form, but you really are telling me what to do as you point your finger  down at the table over and over again until I do what you say. Together we eat our smoothies, and enjoy the freshness of the morning. I wouldn't trade it for the world.

After breakfast we go to the backyard to check and water our garden. I have to remind you not to pull on our almost ripe tomatoes which with out fail, results in me physically removing your from the garden boxes all together. You just can't help yourself . You also insist on wearing my garden shoes. I love watching you waddle around our garden pretending to do the things I do, examining plants, getting your plastic shovel & patting the soil with it. When I go to the side yard to water the corn you start to cry (every single time, like clock work) "Mama hoolt..." I hold you while I water the corn, cucumbers and watermelon by hand. You are getting heavy, so I crouch down, place you on my knee and continue watering. I wouldn't trade it for the world.

Together we go back inside the house and you ask for music, "moosak? moosak?" I ask you what song you want to hear, you still love the "mama shong" (mama song) by Alela Diane, but lately love Baba An (Baraba Anne ) by the beach boys.  However, the all time, number one requested shong (song) is Jason Mraz's I'm Yours, you call it the  "No Mo' Shong" .  I have no idea  where you heard it to even recognize it, one day you just started singing it, I'm guessing you heard it in a store one day. It's not my favorite song, I try to make you like The Fleet Foxes but every time I play it you say, "moosak offffffff". For you I listen to Jason Mraz 10 times a day, I wouldn't trade it for the world.

If I let you go the whole day with out a nap, you'd do it. You don't stop, slow down, cuddle, or even at take a momentary break. You go from one activity to the next focusing whole heartedly at whatever you are doing. When I've had enough of chasing you around the house, I finally decide OK, it's nap time. You fight it, you throw your blanket out of the crib screaming and crying but after 10 minutes of this you quiet down and sleep. I wish I could sleep when you sleep too (those days are long gone, and I don't even really think they existed.) I am busy preparing dinner, doing laundry, and finding peanut butter in places I shouldn't find peanut butter. When you wake up, you talk to yourself for about 20 minutes. I can hear you from the living room naming everyone you know. Sometimes you talk to 'Fia (Sophia), "Hi 'Fia, NO! 'FIA! NO". When I pick you up from your crib, you forget how mad at me you were when I put you down for you nap.  "HI Mommy!"  Sometimes you tell me about your bowl movement you had in your sleep. "I poo poo" You tell me. "Thanks Violet". I reply. "It's niiiicccee", you retort. I wouldn't trade it for the world.

You eagerly wait for Dad to come home, but when he does walk through the door, you either A) act shy and hide from him, or B) see him, and run straight to the sliding glass door, waiting for him to take you outside to check the garden. or C) shout at the top of your lungs "BICYCLE!".  

The three of us quickly eat dinner and head out the door for our nightly bicycle ride. After this we come home, and Dad gives you a bath. I can hear you from the kitchen naming your body parts, you ask dad to see his "boobies" which you often confuse with bellybutton. "I see Daddy's boobies? I see Daddy's boobies?" When Dad gets you out of the tub there is hardly any time to dry off, you dart your naked little body into the kitchen area to find me. "HI MOMMY! I NEKTIED"

We get your pjs on, gather together in the living room for a barrage of book reading, ending of course with Goodnight Moon. We take you to your room, you give Dad a kiss, you give me a kiss, we put you in your crib and walk toward the door. Right before the door shuts you say, "nigh Mommy, nigh Daddy, see you shewn" (soon). 

You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I wouldn't trade you for the world.

Love, 

Mom

a letter at a year and a half

Dear Violet,

You are now a year and a half and it seems before we know it you will be two. Weren't you just that 6 lb 4 oz baby I was holding in my arms? Part of me wants to stop the dear hands of time from allowing you to escape my ability to call you my baby. Then again, I think you will always be my baby. You are a sly little one, and your opinion is not short of being heard. You shine the most in the presence of others, and are most content with in a crowd. But it is in those quiet moments when you and I are alone when I can began to see your little personality shine through. You are not afraid of new things (but you are afraid of toy dolls and animals that can talk or sing). Your dad and I were amazed at how comfortable you were around Uncle Gary's horses unabashedly patting them on the face and leaning your head into theirs when I prompted you to, "give the horse a kiss."

You are starting to put multiple words together, like "apple sauce" and no one believes me but you said your first sentence a few days ago. You said,  "Mama? shoes? bye-bye?" which translated means, "Hey Mom, I see you are putting your shoes on, are we going somewhere?" You are quite the observer.
This summer you Dad and I are planning a family road trip that involves a lot of driving, hiking and sight seeing (and with a lot of prompts from me some hotel staying), I can't wait to take you a long for the adventure and even though I sometimes tell you things like, "why I do even bring you to the grocery store?" after  you stand up in the cart to grab the "abol" (apple) you see to nearly knock everything over. The truth is,  I can't imagine going anywhere, or even my life with out you.

There are a couple of things I need to discuss with you. To begin with, congratulations, you have discovered you have gag reflexes. Now that you know, you can stop sticking your fingers down your throat for fun. You see, when you make yourself gag your mom (that would be me) nearly has a heart attack from the other end of the house (or sometimes in the car, I really don't like when you do that). Two, Sophia is your friend, you have to accept this. Hitting her on the head with a toy hammer, or with Auntie Nikki's iphone or even your fist is no longer permissible. It was kind of cute at first and we all said, "Oh she doesn't know any better." But I am beginning to think not, and Sophia's feelings are getting really hurt. So please stop. Don't burn your bridges with one of your only friends my dear.

My sweet flower, you are the best thing that has ever happened to us. I hope that we can the be parents you deserve in this ever changing world. Just know, that our love for you is forever.

Love, Mom & Dad

in the time of your life..

Every parent wishes they had just one day more with their little one, in whatever stage they are in. It seems like each milestone they hit couldn't get better. Parenting is a funny place of hoping for the future and longing for the past (even if they are only 14 months old).  Hollie over at and baby makes three put it so eloquently well. I've written a few letters to Violet that I keep tucked away in her baby journal. This letter is from me, but written by one of my favorite authors, William Saroyan.

words of wisdom from mom

 

I want Violet:

• To be the kid who shares the favorite part of her lunch with other kids.
• To not be afraid to sing and dance even if she is off key or has no rhythm.
• To exude confidence but never arrogance in all that she does.
• To be friends with everyone, gay, straight, bisexual, transgender, muslim, buddhist, christian, shy, outgoing, rich, poor...EVERYONE.
• To make her faith HER OWN. Not what the sunday school teacher, pastor, her parents, the weird kids in christian clubs says it should be.
• To be able to admit her mistakes, and not be too prideful to say 'I'm sorry'.
• To know BOTH SIDES of her family's heritage.
• To be the person who listens to others first, and has no need to ramble on about herself.
• To know that she can ramble on about herself to her mom and dad.
• Not to strive to be the best, but to do her best.
• To know that getting a pedicure is a treat, not a weekly ordeal.
• To know that THERE IS LIFE OUTSIDE OF FRESNO AND SHAFTER! FIND IT.
• To understand what it means to work, and to make your own money.. no free hand outs.
• To know that just because he is a boy and you like him, you don't need to bring him home.. be selective with who gets to meet your family.
• To know that it's ok to stick up for yourself. If someone has hurt you, let them know. It doesn't matter WHO they are.
• Always, Always forgive. Always.

Also...

• While hanging on the monkey bars in elementary school, if a group of boys decide they want to pull your pants down... It's okay to run after then and try and kick one between the legs.. When the principal wants to talk to you, your mom will defend you.
• If you are 15 and decide to sneak some beers into a birthday party, be aware you may be labeled "the kid my mom said i can't hang out with". And, your parents probably wont defend you.
• If you are 13 and decide to take a walk around the neighborhood with your friends and proceed to jump in and out and over people's backyard fences to see if you can find your way back home... and you break a fence while doing so... you'll have to replace the fence.
• If you have some weird obsession with burning candles, don't do it in your kitchen... chances are something will explode.
• If you are tping a friends house in your mom's mini van (God forbid she has one) don't let your friend get so excited that she/he smashes his head into the windshield and causes rupture of glass.
• Don't push your parents car out at 3am to drive on the freeway.. just.. don't do it.