Super Rubin

My baby boy turned 18 months old yesterday.

His year-and-a-half birthday.

Six months until he's two.

I can not believe that Rubin has been home now for over 7 months. I've been looking back lately, through my blog posts from last year. December of 2008. Waiting on Rubin.

I can hardly believe that, come the end of January, it will already be one whole year since we received our referral. As with most things when it comes to this boy, it feels like so. long. ago. and so... new. All at the same time.

Of course, none of his big days (or his little days) pass without my thoughts ending up in Korea. With his first moms. Constantly wishing I could share little bits of him with them through more than an occasional letter, package, photograph...

Like the way that his language is starting to develop.

I met him just days before he turned 10 months old, and already he had almost 10 Korean words: Mama and Papa, brother and sister, book, ball, park, swing, dog...

Now, his English words are finally starting to surface. "Mama" and "Papa" have been around for a while now. But recently baby, and ba-ba (for bottle) and bye-bye. Birdie. Pup-pup (for Emmett's doggie) and Hupy (for Hoopy, his own.) I can't wait for the day he calls his brothers by their names.

So, at Diana's recent (as in, while I was writing this) request and in response to Elizabeth's giveaway question:

"Is three your limit, or will there be more little ones?"

My answer:

With all of the growing up that's been going on around here, I can't help but think about adding another baby to our family.

You would absolutely wonder why when, on any given day you might hear me OR Dave say

1.) Why didn't we stop at 1?

2.) Can't they live at your mom's house?

3.) Whose idea was this, anyway???

I'm always surprised, then, when I hear one of us (usually my husband) suggest that we try one more time. Most recently when he was holding my friend Katie's baby girl,

tossing her into the air.

(Note his "you know you want a little girl" stare... I'm fairly certain he spoke those words, too.)

I can tell you this much:

After my nephew Sam was born my sister-in-law ached for years to be pregnant again, to have another baby. She couldn't pass a pregnant belly without 1) wanting to touch it/rub it/snuggle it or 2) busting into tears. When I was expecting Emmett I tried to treat every moment, every milestone of my pregnancy like it was the last time. I can pass pregnant women on the street in peace.

Now, when I hear about or read a new referral story, like Kelly and Jon's and Michele and Stefan's, for instance, something completely different happens to me. I want to get our S.W. on the phone and get the paperwork rolling, asap. I feel the urge to get fingerprinted. Stalking the NVC to find out if we are P3 sounds like a blast!! And traveling to Korea again? Oh, don't get me started!!

And so, Elizabeth (and Diana, because I know you wanted to know if my three might turn into four...) my answer right now has to be:

I just don't know.

But it feels like I'm constantly, lately, looking for the answer.