I wouldn’t call Vivi a picky eater. A strange eater perhaps, but not overly picky. She’ll try anything once, but that doesn’t mean she’ll try it twice. She may love something one week (like the entire pint of raspberries she ate in one sitting) and then never touch it again (raspberries? Vivi? Never.) I have to believe some of her strange fickle behaviors with food depend on how her teeth are feeling. Those two top molars are still causing an awful lot of grump issues (at least that’s what I tell myself, it makes the grouchy days so much more bearable.)
Thankfully there’s a handful of foods she’s always up for, and some of them are better than others. Aw well.
I remember being at a friend’s audition for the Met when his teacher said “It’s the shape of Andrew’s skull and mouth that allow him to sing so loudly and so beautifully.” I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately, because I have what is most likely one of the LOUDEST babies in existence. She can scream so loud you’re absolutely sure you’ve lost hearing in one ear. We’re talking the kind of screams that warble and drown out any other noise, like a jet fighter but way smaller.
Today as we walked through a department store as a family, with Vivi squealing and shrieking in the stroller, I turned to my husband and said “It sure is a lot different having a loud baby.”
Vivi’s nursery is one of my favorite rooms in my house. Partly because it’s the one room in the house no one else is allowed to mess up and also because I was never able to have a proper nursery for Addie (we shared a bedroom until 7 months, whew.) It’s also filled with some of my most favorite pieces of art, photos and toys. I spent my entire pregnancy finding the most perfect handmade things to fill her room with and I love that nearly everything in her room has a story.
I was so worried about finding the right theme and color scheme for her room until I realized handmade was the most perfect theme of all.
The only thing I love more than my babies is my cats. What many people don’t realize is that babies and cats have a lot in common. They both want to be loved on their own terms, sometimes forcefully, sometimes passively and always forever. I had my baby in May and rescued two adult cats from the Indianapolis Humane Society in October on my half birthday. I’m a firm believer in rescuing old cats and one of my dreams was to find some cat no one else wanted and let him or her grow old in the sunny parts of my home.
I knew Wink would be mine as soon as I saw his one eye staring back at me from his profile photo. He lost his eye from a botched surgery to fix a problem with his eyelid and he’s perfect. He’s also a polydactyl, meaning he has thumbs on his front paws. The other cat, Percy, well he’s just a ball of love. We had no intention of getting two cats but Percy crawled right into Vivi’s stroller at the Humane Society and purred as she tugged on his ears. Any cat willing to voluntarily put up with that is a good cat. I sometimes wish the baby loved to nap as much as the cats and that sometimes the cats would follow directions like the baby, but in the end the cats and the baby have a lot more in common than one would think.
I’d like to think I was a pretty laid back mom the first time around, 22-years-old and absolutely sure I was going to be the coolest mom ever. It was only after I wrote two pages of instructions for my mom’s friend who was taking Addie for two hours that I realized, “Huh, perhaps I’m a little more uptight that previously believed.” I learned to relax and go with the flow a little bit more and as Addie got older, and before soon I was letting her make mud pies and digging her toes in the sand, as soon as she turned five.
Last week I was at an outdoor mall with my mom and sister when I let Vivi wander into a fountain meant for playing in, fully clothed. As the first big splash of water hit her I turned to my sister and said “I would have NEVER let Addie do this when she was a baby.”