This is the first year in a long while I haven't been looking ahead to a Big Change. Almost every year of my life there's been something, some shift on the horizon--most recently school, career change, adopting, moving, buying a house, adopting again. But not right now. I'm sure something will happen during the next twelve months. But just what, I haven't a clue.
I realized the other day that this lack of a Big Change is making me antsy. I've been grumping at T about leaving my job for no real reason. And I like my job.
The strange thing is, I'm not someone who likes change. At all. But I like the sensation of progress, the feeling that we are working toward something tangible. I don't have that feeling right now.
I think it's also because Firefly's first birthday is coming up next month (can you believe it?). It was around Puppy's one year birthday that we started laying the groundwork for our second adoption, looking into agencies and making decisions. And clearly we're not doing any of that.
I always--and I mean always--thought I wouldn't want more than two children. Yet here I am feeling like someone is still missing from our house. We don't have it in us to head back into private adoption, even if we had the extra money (which we don't). And neither of us has a sense of urgency about adding another child. It just sort of hangs quietly in the air, this question of whether or not this is where the boundary lines have fallen for our family.
Last night Puppy and I were going through the mountains of baby clothes we've accumulated over the last three years, trying to sort them by size and decide what to keep. He liked talking about which ones he had worn as a tiny baby and was determined to squeeze back into some of his 2T faves. He asked who they were for now, and I told him I didn't really know, but someone would eventually wear them again, either in our house or in another house.
He thought about that and announced that he'd like a brother. "Oh, really?" I replied. "Why a brother?" "Because I already have a sister," he told me. Clearly.
I told him I thought that would be fun, but I didn't know how we could find him a brother right now. We had a little back and forth about how he and Firefly joined our family. "How are we going to adopt my brother?" he asked.
"I don't know, bud. Do you have any ideas?" And for the briefest, slimmest sliver of time I thought maybe he would actually come up with a solution. Toddlers are the Magic 8 Balls of conversation, typically giving mildly tangential answers with the rare flash of astounding wisdom.
Last night the wisdom did not appear. "I need two brothers! And two sisters! And a Firefly!"
"Two brothers! Six kids! That's so many people! Where would we all sleep?"
"They could all sleep in my bed with me," he said confidently. And tonight he went to sleep with two stuffed dogs and a baby doll in his bed, to show me it could be done.