Okay, this isn’t something that I would normally post.  I’m not so crazy about TV that I would spend my precious free minutes per week (yes, that’s right people… minutes) writing about it.  But I’ve just got to say it.  ABC?  Are you listening?  How could you cancel a show that is actually intelligent, funny, creative, and unbelievably beautiful to watch?  The premise is hilarious, the actors are fantastic the costumes and sets are mind-boggling.  And the pies!  I want to eat pie after every episode.

Do we really need more shows about doctors, lawyers and crime investigators?  Don’t cancel Pushing Daisies.  Do me a favor, oh half-dozen readers of this blog.  If you have any doubt, put the first season in your Netflix queue.  After that, tell ABC that you’d like a little flavor in your TV diet.  Then go eat some pie.

day 9 of worst ever violet cold-double-ear-infection .  can’t go out.  31 degrees F.  can’t stay in.  cabin fever.  crazy children.  insane mother.  help.  someone.  santa?

First, we turn on some Christmas music, bundle up the kids and head out to the Christmas tree lot.   We wander through the maze of evergreens, listening to the kids laugh and chase each other.  Then Violet, at top speed, clotheslines herself across the face with the wire tree fence.  We find the girl in a wailing heap on the ground, her lip fat and bloody, a wire-shaped welt forming across her cheek.  We try to go home for ice and ibuprofen.  Her Christmas spirit undaunted, Violet refuses to leave without a tree.  So we lash the first halfway decent pine to the roof as her lip swells and the bruise starts to look like someone whipped her with a hickory switch.  After that, it seems only right to go get ice and french fries.

And that is how french fries (preferably waffle) will become part of our Christmas tradition.  Next year it’s Graham’s turn to maim himself.

1. eat pancakes Saturday night
2. sleep for 11 hours
3. have husband take kids for a long walk
4. give up on painting project and call the professionals
5. give up on screaming boy’s nap and take kids to the movies
6. stuff scream holes with popcorn
7. actually watch a whole movie with the whole family for the first time ever
8. have husband take kids to the playground
9. throw all poisonous/sharp detritus into garage
10. cook stir-fry
11. watch vampire TV with awesome husband

1. plan for 11 weeks to get the kids out of the house all morning (this has not happened since Graham was born)
2. decide to finish a home improvement project (the kitchen has needed painting since the flood of ‘05)
3. come down with the stomach flu
4. spend 10 minutes painting — 10 minutes in the bathroom — 10 minutes laying down — 10 minutes painting, etc. etc.
5. have kids come home to a house with sharp/poisonous kitchen detritus spilling into all the rooms
6. send Violet and Rob to a birthday party
7. lay on the couch all afternoon while Graham walks around screaming (it’s his new thing)
8. realize the paint looks like an ’80’s brothel

One of my readers recently said to me, “Poor Violet.  She gets blamed for everything.”  I was shocked and dismayed.  Is that what people who don’t see us often, but read this page, really think?  Do I really blame her for everything?  Am I scaring her for life? And so I started down that road of mommy-guilt.

Then I stopped.  Because, guess what?  It IS her fault!  Graham crying?  You can be sure it has something to do with Violet.  Everyone tired?  Violet’s the one who wakes up at the crack of dawn and doesn’t nap.  Mess?  Yup, the girl thrives on chaos while the boy needs to clean.  Refusing to eat, put on clothes, take a bath, get in the car?  Violet, Violet, Violet and Violet.  Frustrated, annoyed, ticked off parent?  Violet is probably behind that.

So, yes, it’s all her fault.  But here’s the thing: it’s ALL NORMAL.  Nothing she does is outside the realm of a 3-year-old.  Sure, I’ve met angelic preschoolers, but if their parents insist they are perfectly behaved all the time they are lying, or on margarita medication.  Granted, Violet’s stubbornness, independence and energy are very hard to deal with compared to more laid-back children.  But the flip side of those qualities are why she is a smart, outgoing leader.  (Our master plan is that she will use these qualities to amass her fortune and pay for our lavish retirement.  We’ll deserve it by then.)

So please, rest assured, although it may not seem that way just reading my random rants, Violet is normal. And so am I.  (Will someone agree with me? Please?)

Our ThenVioletSaid Twitter account has slowed down considerably.  That is not to say she talks less.  Oh no.  In fact, she talks so much more, I can’t usually fit the conversation into a tweet.

In any case, here is a sampling of Violet-isms from the past few months.  Back by popular demand:

• I bet my talking butt knows Spanish!
• [playing with 3 spoons] The little one is for badness and the big one is for goodness. And the medium-sized one is for medium-size-ness
• A Caramel is a kind of bird that shoots water out of its beak and roars. It’s kind of like a dinosaur. And it claps its hands. It has hands!
• Pearl (our cat) will poke out the dogs’ eyes, pull off their legs and throw them in the garbage can and squish them with the lid.
• I’ll try to grow up, but it’s never necessary.
• Mommy, how does a baby get out of your tummy? Does your tummy crack?
• Do teeth get sunburned?
• Mom, even when I’m mad at you, I still love you.
• HOLY CALF!!!
• I asked V who calls her “honey”. She said, “The bees.”
• I just want what I want.
• I’ve got my shovel. So now I can shove.
• I want some blueberry strawberry chocolate kid cake. Just for kids. AND some coffee.
• Mom, it’s okay. You can do it.
• I’m ecstatic.
• If I broke our kitty’s leg, we will all be sad. But if she grows another one, we’ll be happy again!
• I was putting this necklace in my mouth, but then I remembered I’m not supposed to do that. Right?
• My doggy’s name is Sits.
• Sometimes Popsicles pop.
• Whales poop ice cubes.
• Dad can do kung-fu someday, just like you did when you were a little, little baby.
• My love is spiky.
• after realizing her arm was sticky, “Does that mean I’m a magnet now?”
• I have some money for Daddy because he needs to make money at work.
• I had a hard day at work.
• This is a very important breakfast for me.
• You asked very nice. I’m proud of you.
• When I grow up I want to be a mommy, just like you.
• Running makes me fart.
• God has lollipops for me at church.
• (talking to Mr. Bun) “Just take a deep breath and walk away.”
• Teeth teeth teeth. You’ve got to have teeth or you’ll freak out.
• Taxis are cars that have some tacks in them!
• I’m stirring this big pot. If it stinks, we can send out for pizza.
• Mom, did you know that sour cream is made of sour?
• “Am I always going to be Violet? I want to be a turtle.”
• Dr. Seuss and Dr. Pepper are the same thing.
• When I’m grown up I’m going to drink wine and it’s going to taste good, right?
• 2nd poem: “Pumpkin, pumkpin, pumpkin fairy. Had a wife and she was hairy.”
• “Z” is for Zoe and for sleep.
• after hearing that Mommy & Daddy are going on a date, “Yeah. It’s good to have a friend.”

There is no way to describe how awesome this kid is.  But I’d better try because the Terrible Twos and Theatrical Threes are fast approaching.  I know he can’t possibly be this easy-going, happy, sweet and affectionate forever.  For now I’m enjoying him waking up laughing, cheering at every request, entertaining himself, randomly bestowing kisses and hugs, screaming with joy whenever we walk in the door, gasping with amazement at anything new, and basically just bursting with awesomeness.  And he’s a sensitive dude.

Here are things hates/fears:

• bugs
• puppets
• the stern “no”
• animatronic creatures
• being dirty
• being surprised
• Violet

and things he loves:

• TV
• cats & dogs
• the moon
• vehicles
• balls
• food
• books
• Violet

Our anniversary was earlier this month.  It just so happened to be the wedding weekend of my best friend from college, in the same town we where Rob and I met and had our own wedding.

So we left the kids and flew across the country.  This was our first trip alone since Violet was born.  That’s almost four years ago.  Take a moment to contemplate that.

Whew.

October in upstate NY is hard to beat, and on this occasion it was even more gorgeous than usual.  Maybe it just seemed that way because we felt completely unencumbered and strangely light.  Even our cheap and dingy hotel room was relaxing.  I almost felt guilty about this giddy sense of freedom, but when I called my mom to check in with the kids, they did not seem to miss me.  Graham only started to look for me around day three, but Violet professed to be unaffected (although she did wake up and crawl into bed with me the night we got back).  So we relived our college days as much as our 30-ish bodies could handle.

Still, there is something about a small town that is kind of unsettling.  Maybe it’s the fact that any time you leave the house you see someone who knows your past.  Too well.  Case in point: the bar we went to on Friday was filled with the same people from 12 years ago.  I couldn’t walk to the bathroom without running into an ex-housemate whose dog had killed my cat’s kittens and whose husband I used to date.  There is a certain comforting anonymity in a large town.

But there are a lot of wonderful old friends there and it really was a fantastic place to live.  I’d love to experience it with the kids as well.  So I oscillate between urges to move back and move on.  Maybe we’ll just force Graham and Violet to go to our alma mater.

I really think I’ve had seasonal affective disorder this year.  The sun, though, is what is making me depressed.  I usually don’t mind high temperatures, but this summer was the hottest since the Dust Bowl.  Nearly 50 days of over 100 degree heat.  I don’t care how controlled the indoor environment is, that kind of prolonged extreme temperature takes its toll.  Every motion takes effort.  And the poor kids.  They need to be outside, and don’t care if the parents are wilting, or if they needed to stay hydrated, or if they get burnt to a crisp.  So they spent the summer naked, slathered in sunscreen (which they rubbed in their eyes about every five minutes).  Stay in the pool you say?  Really?  Try chasing 2 slippery non-swimmers around the shallow end.  It’s generally more exhausting than it’s worth.

So the cheery sun mocked us every morning as we slogged to the steaming black car, sweated our way across parking lots and watched our carefully tended plants wither.  Not even a drop of rain.

When the temperatures dipped to a chilly 90, we all suddenly felt better.  Granted, it was probably my cheerfulness that positively affected the whole family.  (Which is another post entirely.)

Now the weather actually feels like fall and I’m having to put socks and jackets on the kids.  But I’m not complaining.  At least the sun and I have forged a truce, however shaky.