Dadada

I read a lot of military blogs when we first got over here. I was really looking for tips on efficient household management (of which I found very few), but I was also interested in how these women deal with their husbands being gone for months on end. And one thing that was repeated over and over again was to talk about the missing father, to put his photos up, to make his presence felt. And I think my mom was probably looking at the same blogs because when she came to visit she brought a number of cheap frames and we put framed photos of the fusspot and her father in all of her toys boxes (one upstairs, one downstairs, one small one on the kitchen counter for when I'm cooking). And although I'm not at all sure she 'understands' the photos - it's nice to know that she sees his face a lot.

And we talk about him a lot. See, the fusspot's only real phrase is "A-dadada." So whenever she starts talking, I talked about her dada. And then we get a lot of stares.

Conversation in the cafe today:
Fusspot: "A-dadada"
Me: "No, that's a sock. But you're right, dada likes to wear socks." Well, usually.
Fusspot: "A-dadada"
Me: "No, that's a glass of water. But you can have some. And dada likes to drink water too."

And by this point all of the people sitting around us are edging farther and farther away.

Last week JD had two nightmares where I'd lost the fusspot and replaced with her a taller, blond child and tried to pass off the replacement child as ours (Paging Freud? This one seems pretty obvious). Of course, I also had a nightmare last week that I was pregnant and gave birth. To four kittens. And the doctor kept trying to tell me to be proud because I'd had four at once, and I kept telling her I'd rather have babies. Moving on.

I don't watch TV. Never have. Grew up in a house without a TV, have no TV in NYC, and have turned my TV here on only a couple of times. But even so, it's hard to miss the images of Haiti. And there is something so visceral that hits you when you see photos of children alone. It makes me want to jump up from the couch and start making phone calls and filing out adoption papers. And I really wasn't sure how to broach the topic with JD because he's always been far more hesitant to plan for an adoption in the future (note to new readers: my dream is to foster or adopt special needs children in the future when JD and I are fully settled and ready for the challenge. My feeling is that we have been given every privilege and resource in the world and we of all people ought to have the time/education/money/insurance to take on the challenge of a child with extra needs). And anyway, I figured better to talk in person.

But I did check with JD that he had made a donation to a charity working in Haiti. And he said yes, and I didn't think any more about it. Until I found about an Etsy store where all the profits go to Haiti, which is my type of charity (I never claimed to be perfect). So I asked JD exactly how much we'd given, and whether it would be ok if I purchased something for myself or a baby present from the Etsy store. And JD said fine, and told me our gift hadn't changed our budget. Because JD took all of the money he'd been budgeting to buy a kindle and gave it away. So who knows, maybe his thoughts on the joy of caring for a child in need and bringing a child with a different background into our home are changing. And even if his views on adoption haven't changed yet, I'm still sure I've got the right dada for me.