The nurse fixed me with a warm yet steely gaze. Concerned yet hard. Gentle yet firm.
She fixed me with something soft and cliche yet something hard and cliche, and of course I knew exactly what she was going to say when she did all that, so I fixed my own face with a look like, I am ready to hear what you have to say, For The Good of the Child.
"He is very big, you know. You need to stop feeding him rice cereal in his bottle."
I kept all the warmth and stuff on. "I don't feel him rice cereal in a bottle."
Some of the looks slid off. "But you still give him materna."
"No, mostly water and a couple of bottles of milk."
"Lots of sugar, then. You need to stop--"
"I don't give him sugar. Well, I do give him fruit--"
"Fruit!" she pounced. "No more fruit."
"No more fruit?"
"Well, not so much fruit."
She looked a little lost. "He is very big, you know."
It's one of those days that I feel like I can do this! I can figure out this game, I can live here!
Also, this conversation with my sister-in-law:
"I'm coming home."
"Like, to live? In America?"
"I'm thinking about it. Kids are good, life is good, even with lots of little things, but you know? I just feel like life is too short, you know, to live so far away from people that I love."
"We are the ones who live far from you."
"Yeah, because I moved away."
"But you are living at home. Because you're living where we all should be living."
"You are living the real life. We should all be living with you."
"But you're not."
"That doesn't mean you should be moving away from your home. We should all be moving into ours."
"Mashiach, I guess."
"I miss you."
"I miss you, too."
"You ruined my rant."
"I was just getting warmed up."