Old Duffer

Thanks so much for the congratulations, everyone—I am greatly honored and touched. And expressing that in a stilted fashion, I guess.

Well, I started offering Joey solid food sometimes when he’d try to nurse—and now he’s eating tons and full of beans, so I feel pretty good about that decision. He’s also high-fiving and clapping like a champ, and saying “ah duh” when he’s all done more than half of the time when it would be appropriate. On the other hand, he’s teething something fierce again; I thought that four teeth were plenty, but I guess he’s got plans of his own. Twice yesterday, Joey tried to nurse, pulled away screaming and jammed his hand into his mouth, and then repeated that process until I got the poor child some Tylenol. He’s also waking up at night (3 a.m. on Tuesday, 1 a.m. on Wednesday, 11:30 p.m.  . . . and 3 a.m. . . . on Thursday), which is awful, but he’s got so much brain and mouth stuff going on that I suppose it’s no wonder. He’s nowhere near walking, I think—he’ll cruise, but it seems to scare him a bit—but I’m certainly in no hurry to have to chase after him.

I’ve decided that (if, God willing, this pregnancy gives me a healthy child—if I ever forget to write that, please never doubt that I’m thinking the if) this baby will be a boy. You see, during each of my three pregnancies, I consulted an online Chinese gender prediction chart: it told me that Cricket that would be a girl; it confirmed that Joey would be a girl; and now I am assured that this little possum is a girl. I mean, the thing is practically infallible. If he’s a boy, he’ll be named after an animal in real life, so I’ll have to be extra clever with a blog moniker. Well, there’s time for that yet.

—And now I’m distracted by trying to imagine what anyone reading would guess after that. Husky Dale Book? Ursa Tremulo Book?

Mr. Book thinks that I should tell you that “hair is in the air.” We cut Joey’s hair, and then I cut all of my hair off, more or less, something I’ve been telling people I’d do when I got pregnant again since I was pregnant with Joey. I put up a blurry shot of my hair on Facebook and Ruth was the first one to “Like” it, leaving me paranoid about whether I ever mentioned that “when I get pregnant again” thing to her. I also posted a picture of Joey in which I commented on how shaggy he’d gotten, and on the fact that we pulled out the clippers after the snapshot was taken—minutes (it turns out) after Nora posted a picture of her long-haired boy. So: hair is in the air.


3 thoughts on “Old Duffer

  1. Wow! Forgot to click on Google Reader for a few days and I miss a Big Announcement. A belated congratulations!

    Don’t over think what Ruth & Nora may be thinking about. Likely they don’t remember the comment and think you’ve just gotten too busy to deal with long hair. Many mothers of young children chop it off because it is easier. And even if they do know suspect something, don’t worry about it. It’s none of their business until you decide to tell them.

  2. I love the nickname “the little possum” — so cute! One of my friends IRL named his son after his long-time mentor, whose last name was Wolfram. He shortened it to the animal name and it’s cute on him. How are you liking your new haircut?

  3. I bought a ”gender maker” prediction test and took it at 10 weeks, the earliest they recommend you do it. It’s a pee on a stick set up, and it predicted a girl. We are in fact having a girl, and others I’ve known who used it also had accurate results. The best price was on eBay, but it still cost $20.

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