ladylike

violet has finally grown into several adorable outfits that she of course received as gifts, and i've been making a recent effort to actually dress her in them on the weekends. so much of what goes to daycare is ruined in a blink -- paint stains, mud smears, blotches of chili mac n' cheese -- so i try to reserve her nice clothes for special occasions. but as my mom says of having made this mistake too many times, the nice things will never get used if you don't use them. so although we had no particular plans this past weekend, violet sported her winnie the pooh dress and gap tights, followed by her ralph lauren shirtdress and leggings.





there's something hilarious about violet in dresses because she's just so physical and active. everything ends up askew in a matter of minutes, especially the hair. it would be easy to say this is true for every toddler girl, but i don't think so. we were sitting on a blanket at the park one sick day, and another mom (who was warned of violet's quarantine) laid out her blanket adjacent to ours. her daughter was decked out in something frilly, bows in her hair, the whole nine, and there really was something regal about the way she drank her juice. something about her demeanor made me want to fan her and feed her grapes (cut into quarters of course). i snapped out of my daze just in time to prevent violet from eating two fistfuls of dead grass.

in other news kevin and i met with an estate-planning attorney yesterday and signed the execution copies of our will, trust, health care directives, community property agreement and nomination of guardians. goodbye jagerbombs, hello responsible adulthood! the occasion was punctuated with more than a little gallows humor, as you can imagine, although jagerbombs probably would have been even more successful at taking the edge off the anxiety. you really do end up having to contemplate scenarios like who decides when to pull the plug if you're in his and hers comas, and what measures should be taken if your now one year old (who is busy lunging at every available electrical outlet and shaking her snack trap upside-down as hard as possible because clearly what the beige carpeting needs is a little pattern in the form of broken cheerios to perk it up... where was i? right, if your now one year old) endeavors to one day blow your life savings on crystal meth. then when you're done envisioning your baby smoking a crackpipe and you and your husband meeting your violent ends -- you try to stop your brain, but your brain won't quit it with the blood and gore and teen prostitution, thanks a lot, csi! -- you get to write a fat check to your very nice lawyer, who will probably spend it on another oil painting of his very cute children, before you walk out the door with nothing but theoretical death paperwork to show for it.

do you like how i transitioned into the second person there? thinking about this stuff is hard, not to mention a highway to prozac.

luckily there's always a little lady wanting to show off her knickers to make us laugh. this is all for you, you little rugrat.