There’s a lot going on right now. I’m going to talk about it in kind of a scattershot way; that’s what my brain is doing just now. The Skype conversations have stopped after the initial two, and there may be more in the future, but not now. No pictures from them yet this year, and no plans for a visit. That looks, I know, like there’s nothing going on at all—but in addition to jetting around the country and watching Joey work on blowing spit bubbles, I’m brooding about it. That’s a shock, I’m sure. =)
My husband and I are talking about possibly moving in with my parents. Not for awhile, and it’s the farthest thing from certain, but he would really like to go to law school, and that will be pretty tricky on our own. My parents lived with my grandparents for awhile while my dad was in graduate school, so they’re very open to the idea—the prospect of more time with Joey can’t hurt. In fact, since I first asked them, they’ve brought up the possibility several times, always positively. The thing is, Mr. Book hates his job. It makes him miserable pretty much all of the time. But if we weren’t paying rent, he’d be able to just work part time and go to school and never go back to this job again. We haven’t talked yet about the effect that would have on the adoption, perhaps because another thousand miles wouldn’t make that much of a difference. Nora comes to Southern California a couple of times a year for work. . . .
I did email Ruth about pictures and Skype, in what I hoped was a not annoying way, and she wrote back to say that Skype won’t work right now, but maybe in a few weeks (good news), that they’re still thinking about visit dates (not great, but okay), and no word about or link to pictures, which kind of stinks. She didn’t ask after Joey, which I totally at random was a little upset by. I wrote back and only responded directly to what she’d said, which is a lame little passive-aggressive thing to do, but I started a longer and cheerier email and got nowhere. That longer email mentioned the possibility (which seems more and more likely as we talk about it/look at law schools/grow hopeful) of our relocating to California for a few years; the final version did not. Maybe next time.
I’m distracted from my grim thoughts by watching Joey dream—he’s smiling, he’s making milkface, and his eyelids are fluttering. He’s so big now: eighteen pounds at last weigh-in. A couple of days before Easter, I asked Mr. Book whether he thinks about what it would be like to be done having kids now—to be raising two boys, one of them a toddler, one of them our Joey—and he said that he does, but that he mostly imagines baby Cricket, not the boy he is now. For whatever reason, the fact that he is so far so different from Joey makes him feel even farther away. –And I’m back to grim. I’m going to stop here and go back to watching the baby.