Soccer!

Sometimes I forget how much I thought I would hate this part of life: the soccer mom part. Inga, Andrei, and Elena are all in soccer and they each have practice 1-2x per week and games on Saturdays. Each team requires each family to volunteer for snack shack or information booth, and each team requires each family to bring a snack to at least one game for the team. Oh, and you have to watch your kid play soccer out in the sun where there is no mercy from the heat and you have to somehow seem knowledgeable about what your kid is doing out there on the field while your other kids are driving you nuts with their antics. Of course I would hate this. But...amazingly...I don't. I love to see my kids working hard toward a goal with their team, I love to see them push themselves to keep going even when they are exhausted and I especially like it when they look like they actually know how to play this game. Because I never did. I remember going to Anne Marie's soccer practices (most memorable moment: I bit into a Star Crunch chocolate-y thing and got a mouthful of little worms and eggs and never ate another one again), and although I love Anne Marie (please let me make that clear), I hated watching her practices. Hated it. I recall thinking I must be receiving some sort of sisterhood points for caring and that is what helped me through it...but I swore I would never put myself through it again, so my children would just have to learn to live without sports. And then I married Dan. And found out that when it is your own kid out there, everything changes.


Oh. And it is really easy to get sunburned. (Like the shirt? It doesn't fit Dan, so he gets to enjoy it on me :)

The most amazing day

On our first day back from Sam's adoption I had the most amazing day. And not in a good way.
We made it back to Maryland on Saturday afternoon, racing from Connecticut to make it to a doctor's appointment before the office closed (it closes at noon on Saturdays). We made it just in time, and found out that Sam and I have some sort of Russian cold/flu thing, and he has an ear infection on top of it, and I have bronchitis on top of mine. So we headed home, prescriptions in hand. When we got there, after having been gone for two weeks, we realized that when we went around unplugging things before we left we had accidentally unplugged the freezer in the basement. Hundreds of dollars worth of food was rotting away, and a brownish disease-laden pool of thick liquid had gathered around the freezer and meandered across portions of the floor. I, being the idiot of the decade, opened the freezer door for some reason just to check and make sure it was really that bad. I almost fainted from the smell, which then of course did not go away regardless of how fast I closed that door immediately afterward.
So of course I went upstairs and didn't say anything because I didn't want to deal with it. I'm jetlagged (11-hour time difference), and I'm sick--at least I have a little excuse. I managed to forget about it until about dinner-time. I was starting to boil water for spaghetti when Andrei came downstairs, covered in something that looked like a nightmare version of last night's dinner. It was. He had thrown up all over his bed, soaking right through his comforter down to the two mattress covers and into the mattress. Everything had to be washed. Which led me down to the basement. Oh, yeah, the smell from the freezer was still lingering! I rinsed everything out (major chunks involved, not a pretty sight) in the utility sink and dumped it in the washing machine and started the laundry. Then I went upstairs to finish making dinner, Dan went to the pharmacy to pick up our prescriptions and some diet Sprite for the now three sick people in our home, and the kids proceeded to completely wreck every room in the house while our attention was elsewhere. Fast forward two hours. We had finished eating, and given everyone baths, and then for some reason everyone had to go to the bathroom, all at the same time. We have three toilets in the house, and there were five people who had to go. Elena didn't make it. She peed all over my bedroom floor, massive amounts of liquid that I did not know one person could possibly hold (let alone one of the tender age of 4). Andrei and Alex were standing right next to her, in their pajamas with the feet on the bottom, so I had to strip and wash them, too. Basically I had to re-give the baths I had just given. I almost laughed, the day was so disastrous. I'm glad I didn't--I needed to save that laugh for a few minutes yet. After washing the kids I went down to the basement to do yet another load of laundry. The basement was flooded. The extension plug that leads to the freezer also leads to the water pump down in the basement. Since it was not plugged in, the water that dumps out of the washing machine did not get pumped up and out of the laundry sink as it is supposed to, but instead got dumped onto our basement floor. I was flabbergasted. I finally laughed.
And this is the point where the person you marry really makes the difference. Dan cleaned everything up, and I mean everything. The house is now back to its original cheery 1960's bad wallpaper self, with a clean non-smelly freezer (empty) and a dry basement and laundry all done and put away. Dan took the kids to church this morning (Andrei and Sam stayed home with me since we were all sick), and fed them when he got home. I, on the other hand, got a massive nap this afternoon, and enough time to myself this evening to write this blog and catch up on reading everyone else's. I don't usually get to lounge around, but this time I'm just going to relax and enjoy it. What a day!

Warning--random thoughts not laid out very clearly due to illness

We are in Russia (I am typing on a cool Russian computer with lots of cyrillic everywhere) and have good news--Pavel became our son on March 1! We were able to get the 10 day waiting period waived in part due to a consult and surgery appointment for our son at Calais Regional Hospital that was scheduled rather early in the month of March. Pavel is doing great, full of energy and very social. He reminds me a lot of Inga when we adopted her--he is making faces, repeating many of the English words he hears, and is very stubborn! He will be a handful, but then again if he were not then he would not exactly fit in with the rest of the kids, eh?
When we went to pick Pavel up at the orphanage they all remembered Inga, and were looking at her picture in his photo album. It was so nice to see she was remembered and loved. I got the feeling that Pavel is that way, too--a favorite. This explains a little of his behavior:) He fits right in with our extended family, too, come to think of it.
I have caught Pavel's cold. It's miserable (fill in with imagination here). I was hoping to go to a concert this evening, but it looks like that is now out of the question. The temperature here is a rosy -29 (they don't even bother to say the "-" part), and the snow is packed from 6-12" deep on the walkways (and much higher everywhere else). The ice sculptures are elaborate and beautiful! Mandy, do they have those in Antigonish?
We went to Red Square in Moscow and they had set up an ice skating rink off to the side, next to the huge department store (oh, you guys would love it--I think it is supposed to be the biggest mall in the world). For the most part this trip has been full of court and Pavel and a lot of amazing Russian food. We are staying with our host family in Novosibirsk, and Natasha is a fantastic cook. I'll share recipes upon return home.
OK, Pasha (short for Pavel) is having a breakdown and must sit on my lap and you can imagine how that is going. So I will sign off and post a picture when we get home. Please everyone give Dad my love and tell him that Pavel looks just like Uncle Rick. During his cute phase.

Bengals on my side!

There is a cemetery on the main road that we take to get from our house to Dan's school/our church. We travel this road nearly every day for some reason or another. At some point shortly after we moved here, the children began shouting something whenever we passed this cemetery. It was difficult to understand what they were saying, mostly because of the accents and the fact that more than one of them were saying it at a time, but I thought nothing of it until I realized that only two of the children would say it, and it would be only those two who were sitting on the side of the van facing the cemetery. After a few very unsettling possibilities crossed my mind about what exactly they could be saying, I asked the Translator (Andrei, who still understood enough Russian to translate for Elena when needed)--but it was Inga who answered. "They are saying, 'Bengals on my side!'" she answered matter-of-factly. When I asked her why, she could not answer--but she participated heartily in this ritual, which took place every time we passed the cemetery, no matter what else was happening. It wasn't until Dan was driving and I got a good look at the statues that I figured out what was happening. There are several large statues involving many figures spread throughout the "field". Each one of them has at least two figures raising their arms, and at least one figure cradling the baby Jesus. To our kids it looks like a big football game.

Pregnancy

I'm seven months pregnant. At least, figuratively speaking. Without the figure, I mean.

I am just getting to the part where I am having to PLAN for this new baby. I have had to start canceling appointments at the end of January, and am not allowing anything on the calendar for March (better scratch that surgery Alex has scheduled--again). The baby's crib is all set up, his clothes are set out, his special dishes are bought (each child has their own set of special dishes)--I have everything but the diapers. People are starting to ask about him almost everywhere I go, and I find myself saying the same things over and over again but I never get tired of it because it reminds me that I will see him soon. If I were pregnant, I would be "showing" enough right now to draw lots of questions and comments, both ignorant and informed. It's amazing the sorts of things people think about adoption! But those who have adopted already or who have close friends who have adopted always ask the really discerning questions, the ones that usually lead to deeper conversations. I am starting to get REALLY excited.

I wonder if pregnant mothers ever have the same sorts of fears I have. A new life, an unpredictable being who is joining your family forever, no matter what they look like or what their attitude is toward you or anyone around them. Many of these things must be the same. Many but not all. Will I love him right away, or will it take time? Will he love me back? Will I think he is the most handsome boy in the world, or will his habits annoy me? Did others hurt my little boy before I could get to him? Has anyone else loved him? Will anyone mourn for him when he joins our family? Will he cry for anyone when we take him away from all he's ever known?

Each child is so unique; just because I have parented before does not make me an expert on THIS child. And the greatest fear...will something happen to him before we can adopt him? I have a friend who was informed that the baby she was trying to adopt was going into the hospital for emergency surgery. My friend flew to Guatemala and was able to spend a few days with the baby before the child died in her arms. Or it may not be physical. Judges will occasionally decide that a family is not a right fit for a child...sometimes with good reason, sometimes arbitrarily. Nothing is guaranteed until the child is home. Until the child is born. And then begins a whole new adventure...

Truffles and Jingles and Noise

Megan came home with us to visit for one day, making her first long (more than a couple of hours) road trip ever. We came down together on Sunday, and she drove back this morning. She even drove through New York City, first with me on the way down and then, on the return trip, by herself. Yey, little sister!

Megan's visit was very propitious since we needed an entire extra car (hers) to haul our presents back from Connecticut/Maine festivities (thanks everyone!).

We spent the time initiating her into good movies like Die Hard and Lethal Weapon, and then we made truffles. I should probably explain that truffles taste really good no matter what they look like, which in our case is a very positive thing. We traded the truffles in for a story a friend of ours wrote that she was hanging onto for some reason and that we wanted to read. We offered her a multitude of truffles if she would just e-mail us her newly written book, and she agreed. It was worth all the chocolate angst--a very good book indeed. While we were slavishly making the collateral we watched a movie called The Prize Winner of Defiance, Ohio. It was an OK movie, and thought-provoking for those of us who need inspiration for writing more often (which I do). This woman had ten kids and entered jingle contests in order to keep her family afloat financially. Some thoughts on the movie:

1. This woman's husband felt threatened by her ability to provide for the family while he spent the milk money on drink (the movie is set in the '50's I believe). It is true he was rather a dead-beat in his drinking habits, but she was no saint either in the way she treated him. Although the movie was trying to be women's lib-y and they did a good job of showing the mother as a strong character around which the family rallied, she came across a bit heartless when he asked her if she loved him in a number of different ways and she rebuffed him each time. In real life the man would have left, or at least left off trying to please her. He remained true to her and didn't give up trying to show her he loved her, despite his obvious issues with alcohol.

2. She wrote constantly, and encouraged her kids to write as well. They did, which is why one of them wrote a book which turned into this movie.

3. Ten kids make a lot of noise, and they actually did a good job of showing it in the movie. It makes me feel like my four are quiet in comparison. It also makes me feel like my kids are normal--because despite my awesome family and their willingness to enjoy (put up with) all of the noise my kids bring with them during Christmas I know you all aren't used to it and so I was a bit paranoid all vacation trying to keep my kids quiet and subdued (yes, THAT was quiet and subdued!).

Geography madness

Today we spent the evening embarrassing ourselves by taking geography tests online. Anne Marie has a theory that those who live in states that are not self-sufficient tend to know a little more about the geography around them, i.e. anyone who does not live in California or Texas.

We also went to St. Andrews in Canada to pick up Mandy's boyfriend, Tim, and to visit a yarn store that was conveniently closed. Ben and Jaime left this morning, leaving Inga devastated because they took Moira and Evie with them (selfish pigs).


It's also Brad's birthday, and we celebrated with chocolate cake, chocolate frosting, chocolate icing, and pizza. My kids were in heaven. Brad is now officially as old as I am, which is quite young, actually. His birthday presents involved an HDTV and a night out on the town in L.A.

We have done very little outside the house this vacation, which is either a good sign (we enjoy each other's company) or a bad sign (we all have amoebic dysentary and cannot move). Since we have all been eating a lot (as can be proven by the grocery bill or Dad's gripe level) I think we can safely say we have simply been having a restful break. Saturday we will be going back to Connecticut and visiting with some friends before heading back home--and then we will have a lot of work to do to get our dossier ready for Russia in time for our travels. Good thing we've had some time to breathe first!

Everyday Life

This is a mundane post. It is submitted under pressure from my siblings, who are demanding entertaining reading on sibling posts during the holidays. So I shall deliver, with an update on everything I can think of:

We went to Connecticut for Christmas. It was fun.

We went to Maine for after-Christmas funnery. It was fun.

We are still looking into purchasing an incredibly un-glamorous large vehicle for carting around our children. This is not fun. However, Sam's suggestion for a Dodge Sprinter was very helpful and looked like we might actually get out of the non-cool mode...except that I felt like a FedEx delivery boy whilst driving it. Overwhelmingly. So I think that is out.

We will be going to Russia (hopefully) in late January, like January 20. Maybe. We will then get to meet our (hopefully) soon-to-be son.

Grandmom is doing well.

My hair is growing. Most likely at the same rate it always has.

Well, that's about it. Oh, oh--and my children are currently taking a nap.

Making Jennifer

I have had to do some deep thinking about where I personally fit in to myself recently. I had a definite view of who I wanted to be when I graduated from college and married Dan. By the time we had a child, my identity wasn't flexible any more. When it was just Inga, I could pretend that I was the same continuous person I had always been since early gradeschool (I don't remember much before that). But now that there are four little bodies that are fairly dependent upon me for their daily needs and emotional well-being I cannot pull away from the fact that my life took a definitive direction when we started having kids. And, although it is not a road less traveled, it is a direction that defines itself by the exclusion of access to a lot of other paths. At least if you move by traditional means. So I am faced with the realization that my kids have changed me, and are defining who I am becoming, even if I feel like I remain my own person. I am still a writer, a musician, an adventurer, a sister, a daughter, a wife, a friend...and interwoven into all those things is a mother who is figuring out how to continue in these things and include her children in them as well. On top of that I am learning all about prosthetics and the development of the brain and speech and vision and the impact of early childhood malnutrition on the rest of your life. I am meeting all kinds of people I never would have had the grit to meet on my own because my oldest daughter can't stand next to a stranger in line and not strike up a conversation. And I find other adults willing to get to know me because one of my children has a similar condition to their child/grandchild/niece. My original definition for who I am (writer, musician, etc.) takes me in an established and known direction. My children take me in directions I never dreamed of going, and I am grateful for the adventure.