I want to have adoption news. I really do.
A couple of emails ago, in August, I directed a little information and a couple of questions at Cricket. It seemed unlikely to hurt, and in fact, it didn’t; when Ruth wrote back, she gave me his answers. I tried it again last time, and while I probably won’t hear back for awhile, I think I’ll keep it up.
I’m planning Joey’s birthday party now—I know that it is grotesquely premature, but I got a coupon to have some invitations printed for free, and now I am testbaking things and counting down. One of those invitations will go to Cricket and his moms, and I’m shamefully glad that they won’t be able to come. Don’t get me wrong; I would be over the moon if Cricket could come. It would be great to see him tear around the yard and eat cupcakes. I miss that toddler boy, and I’d love to spend some time with him. But I so, so don’t want his moms at Joey’s birthday party. I think that’s less a function of the fact that they are Cricket’s adoptive moms and more that our relationship is lousy, although I suppose I could be kidding myself about that. But I don’t think so.
Cricket doesn’t have birthday parties the way that I did when I was little; his moms throw Hanukkah parties on or around his birthday, at least so far. On the one hand, that’s perfectly reasonable—Cricket isn’t going to remember one way or the other in ten years, and one party is much like another for a tiny person, I imagine. On the other hand, I’m making a different choice both because I want to have a day to explicitly celebrate my snerkleberry (we’re big on birthdays in my family) and because I want there to be a million pictures that he and I and his godmom and any other interested party can look through in the future. We have similarly different approaches to Halloween; Ruth doesn’t like Halloween, so Cricket doesn’t celebrate it. Mr. Book and I picked out a costume for Pete almost as soon as I knew I was pregnant, and it is an awesome one, which I will probably explain in irritating nerd detail once I post pictures here. When in doubt, we default to throwing our arms in the air and shouting hooray, basically, and it’s hard for us not to miss Cricket having that sometimes.
When do babies make the transition to eating significant quantities of solid food? Joey will taste anything, but rarely eats much—and he’s nursing very frequent. Like, more than once an hour some days. I have plenty of milk, so I don’t think that’s the issue; in part, I think he’s nursing for comfort, but I wonder whether he’s also just needing something that sticks to the ribs a little better than breastmilk. He’s ten months old, so I’m not actually worried, but it seems as though he might need real food and I don’t know how to get him to eat it. I’m doing what I think I’m supposed to—offering a variety of foods and letting him choose—but he’s not choosing more than a bite or two. Should I refuse to nurse for five minutes out of every twenty? Certainly I’m not in love with that schedule, but Joey sure is.