unresolved

I will not...
behave sluttishly around the house, but instead imagine others are watching.

Bridget Jones's Diary
(Yes, the extra "s" bothers me.)

Well, if this *had* been one of my resolutions instead of Bridget's, I would've broken it when I was getting dressed the other morning. I had ironed my twinset, but ironing is not my forte. When I put it on, I discovered it was still rather rumpled. So, in sluttish fashion

(Cambridge Dictionary for my US readers says: sluttish, adjective, VERY INFORMAL DISAPPROVING describing a woman who is habitually untidy and lazy)

I grabbed the already unplugged iron and I ironed it...without taking it off first. And, the shell has a pretty deep scoop. And I now have a capsule-sized and -shaped burn right in my decolletage.

(Cambridge Dictionary says: decolletage, noun, the shoulders and chest of a woman's body shown by the low top edge of a dress.)

(Kate says: emphasis on low)
(Kate also says: ouch)

lost! again

Do you know what my Sawyer nickname is? "Deepdish" I kinda like it. ;> And speaking of Sawyer, according to votemom's quiz:

You Are Sawyer

You are cunning and calculating. Some people would even call you a con artist. You're smart and get bored easily. You use your biting sense of humor to entertain yourself. It's been hard for you to trust people throughout your life. You don't get close to anyone. You are a drifter. You don't have permanent ties, and you tend to "disappear" often. You are introverted and even a bit shy. You don't share the true you with many people. As a result, no one really gets you. At your core, you are a sweet, passionate, and funny person.

Who Are You on LOST?

The nice thing about watching it here is that Lost! is a Friday night show for us. While we're at school on Friday morning, the dvr is humming away (or, some friends' computer is downloading it from iTunes). We leave school and are able to lose ourselves in the weekend. Enjoy!

dvr alert

Have you read this book?

I think it's fascinating. It's about the impact that trauma and neglect have on the brain at different developmental stages. Yes, it is the kind of book I love to read. BUT it also has the added bonus of being very relevant to my pi (post-institutional) d2b. If there weren't trauma or neglect somewhere in her life, she wouldn't be in an orphanage and waiting for me. She wouldn't be d2b.

This book also has lots of good ideas about how to re-build the connections in the brain that early trauma and neglect cause. It's a good read--and one I highly recommend.

But, it gets even better! There was a post on FRUA that said:

Bruce Perry, M.D., Ph.D., is a respected expert in this field. It is significant that childhood neglect and resulting attachment issues will finally be addressed in this popular forum. Set your recorders! Here is a link to the biography of Bruce Perry, M.D., PhD. http://www.childtrauma.org/aboutCTA/bio_bruce.asp

The Impact of Neglect featured on the Oprah Show

Later this month (tentative air date is January 28th) the Oprah Show will feature the story of a remarkable young girl and her adoptive family. Dr. Perry talks with Oprah about neglect and the developing child. This episode features his book, The Boy Who Was Raised as a Dog, co-written with Maia Szalavitz.

For anyone interested in a compelling narrative to help teach about the devastating impact of neglect this is a show worth taping. The systemic problems, the caregiving challenges, the ignorance of normal developmental needs of children and the patience, love and effort required to help neglected children recover are all part of this show.

Just wanted to let you know so you could set your dvr's. I've set mine! (In fact it's just set to record from now until this shows airs...)

quickie

I really wanted d2b's "Welcome, new American!" letter to be signed by President Bush. I guess that's one more hope dashed in this crazy dance of mine.

Praying for our country today and for the next four years.

add to your agenda

The meeting will please come to order.

Roll call: friends? family? bloggerdom?

Old business: The most recent old business is the poor showing by caseworker at new agency and the request for two documents from a Russian sw employed by the municipality. These two documents require all my previously compiled dossier documents.

On the agenda today: Collective hope. We are all going to hope that simply presenting my dossier (which I finally convinced new agency to dhl me) to the sw will be sufficient for her to review and recommend me and agree to do my ppr's. Yes, we have review and recommendation and ppr commitments from US agency and sw. Don't be distracted by that. Just focus on a quick and easy process with the Russian sw. Touch wood, it will be as easy as the home visit was.

All in favour?

Motion carried.

Meeting adjourned.

Scarlett's right

Today is yesterday's tomorrow. (Profound, eh?) And Scarlett is right--it is another day.

Thanks for the encouragement when I was still in yesterday.

Yes, all yesterday's post was true. But, it's not the state that I live in. I just got hit while I was sitting in front of the computer, keyborad on my lap, and it all spilled out. By the end of the post, I was already feeling better. Now, with some St. John's wort in me, my sleep tank filled and some spaghetti for breakfast I'm feeling better. And that is much more like me. A pollyannaish outlook may seem disingenuous to those who don't know me irl, but really, it's pretty kateish. And it's nice to have it back.

I had a post started a while back that talked about how I can still feel kateish in the midst of living here. One occurrence came when I was buying a Christmas tree. I was obviously their first customer and they hadn't worked out all the kinks yet. There was a big tent outside Okey. You chose your tree (potted), got a ticket, and took it inside to pay. No one quite knew where I was supposed to pay and I trekked back and forth between a checkout line and the information desk several times. They each kept referring me to the other. It was funny. But, that's not the kateish bit.

When I'd finally paid and brought out the receipt and reassured them that they could keep it (they were quite flummoxed that there was only one copy) they asked me which tree. I showed them and the woman asked the man what tree it was--big or little (ha! I chose the biggest little tree.) The man said it was little. I replied, "Yes, a little Christmas tree." and sang the first line of a song in Russian to them about a little Christmas tree in the cold winter.

Anyone who knows me will tell you that I burst into song with little provocation. (This is a constant source of amusement to Ann Marie. Yes, it happens during phone calls, too.) To be able to do this in Russian was fun. It's the only Russian New Years song I know, and I only know parts of it, but it just popped into my head and out of my mouth before I even thought about it. I got to sing it! And the workers recognized it, sang the second line back to me, and gave me my tree.

I am a pretty good do-er of little girls' hair. When I walked into the orphanage for the Christmas party, I was greeted not with a cup of tea, but with, "Kate! Make the girls' hair look beautiful." It was the nicest greeting. It made me feel like part of the family instead of a guest. And it's nice to know that French braids are as coveted in a Russian orphanage as they are in my classroom and in the homes of the US.

These little bits of kateishness are encouraging to me. They're things that say that I am still me--no matter where I am.

Home will come. Life will unfold. The waiting will end...one way or another. And then we'll see.

ps Jenni, that's one of my favorite quotes from Shakespeare in Love! Thanks for reminding me. I've added it to the quotes at the top.

growl

(I know this blog has turned a little weepy of late. But, I'm a little weepy of late. I'm sure it's temporary. But, consider yourselves duly warned.)

Wow, am I in a foul mood. And, this is after a great week back at school. All of my six-year-olds (nice kiddos, but they're all in first grade in their new schools) have left. I added a lovely new girl from the US. Suddenly my class feels like second grade. Everyone is quietly busy and happy. Everyone is working independently. Everyone is speaking and reading and writing in English. I had a lovely week. Monday was so quietly productive that I attributed it to jet lag. But it lasted all week! Fantastic!

But somehow not knowing about that show (glad to hear I didn't miss much, Jessica) really set me off. It just made me want to be home--amongst all that is familiar. I want to know what's playing. I want theatre. I want my theatre friends and busy, simple life. It made me want the anticipation of auditions the joys and devastation of casting, the chance to be someone else, the magic and the immersion of theatre and the friends that shared it. It conjured up a whole life I left behind--and a place that I want to return to someday. It socked me in the gut. It made me wonder (along with recent caseworker unpleasantness and then silence and requests for my million and fourth hs--this time by the city here) if I heard wrong. If I was called to pursue adoption and not actually adopt. Maybe the pursuit was the end unto itself. Pursuing adoption allowed me to meet people,both irl and virtually, and do things I wouldn't otherwise. Pursuing adoption placed me differently...maybe I've done all that I was meant to do.

I have been able to see myself--clearly see, like a vision almost--in certain situations: married to specific men, with F playing on her bed...and those situations did not happen. I was so convinced, because I could SEE them, that they must be a glimpse into THE PLAN. They weren't. And because I believed them, I think I was more hurt when they didn't happen. I thought I had reassurances that things were going to happen "x" way. And they didn't. Repeatedly.

And, I have NOT been able to see myself in situations that did come to pass. I wondered, because I couldn't SEE myself living a life after high school (warning: dramatic teenager thought process revelation), if I was actually going to live past graduation. I had some dreams and aspirations. I knew what I wanted. But I couldn't SEE it. And, umm...I have lived quite a while since high school. Quite a LONG while. So even though I couldn't SEE it, it happened.

Right now (and this post has wandered off course from where I thought it was headed) I can't see an end to this. I can't see d2b home. I can't see anything in the future. I can't see where I'll be living or what I'll be doing or who will be beside me. Which I guess, in a perverse sort of way is a good thing.

I've spent most of my 30's waiting. I went to drama school and then I waited for acting jobs. (I got them, but there is a LOT of waiting between them.) I waited to get married. (Yeah--nothing there yet.) I started feeling tugged to adoption--like the Pevensies and Eustace are tugged into the picture of the Dawn Treader--and so I waited to be out of debt and job-secure to start. I started adopting and I waited. I waited for paperwork. I waited for my agency. I waited for accreditation. I was told I was registered and waiting. I was told I was not registered. I'm still waiting. I'm SICK of waiting! How is it possible to spend a decade WAITING??

Right now, at the moment I'm writing this, I just want to stop waiting and go home. But I don't know where that is. I came to the conclusion a while back that for me home is not a place. Home is people. But I don't have my people yet. I don't know where they are. So I don't know how to go home. Friends, good, good, GOOD friends are scattered all across the country. I would love to be near all of them, to live right in the middle of a happly little version of Wisteria Lane with my friends all in surrounding houses. But that's not possible. And, while they are my modern singleton family, and they are both loved and loving, they aren't quite home.

Going back doesn't seem like an option. Where would "back" be? The lives that I had and loved that were great in my 20's (teaching and acting and dancing and directing and dreaming...with lots of good friends and a good church and lots of travel...) and my early 30's (acting and working at the museum really were fantasticly fulfilling in both an artistic and an I DID IT way) are like the clothes that I wore then. I still have some of them. CUTE, trendy little clothes. I love them. The colors are great, the styles are fun...but they don't fit anymore. They're too small. I can't wear them now.

And, quite frankly, with the incoming administration I'm not sure I'll recognize my country when I do come back. I fear it will be much like living in England or Russia. One thing I've learned, I'm not a socialist. Those countries are nice to visit, but they aren't my home.

So if I don't have old lives to go home to and I don't have my people, what do I do?

I'm weary. I can't see what's next. I can't see where or who home is.

So. I guess I wait. I wait for my paperwork to arrive from Moscow. I wait to schedule an appointment. I wait for the million and fourth hs. I wait for registration and internal investigations to clear and for common sense to appear to the nonsensical. I wait for d2b to come home.

I just don't like it very much.

WHY did no one tell me

Patti LuPone was in Gypsy last year?

I'd have come home for that one.

When I asked what was on I got answers like...

them: Nothing.
or
them:You know--that one. Like Oklahoma.
me:Carousel?(I sing "June is Busting Out All Over") State Fair? (I sing "It's a Grand Night for Singing) South Pacific (I sing "I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Outta My Hair")?
them: Yeah. Carousel! (note-It was South Pacific)
or
them: Nothing. There hasn't been anything good on in years.

Patti LuPone in Gypsy is not nothing. Patti LuPone in anything is good. Gypsy is good! I'd have flown back for that.

I guess I'd better do my own research from here on out. Sheesh, people. Help a girl out! ;>

recession?

I'm starting to wonder if my forehead is receding. It's not my hairline, which is where it always has been, but my actual forehead that seems to be inching backwards, flattening out.

Possibly, my frontal lobe has liquefied causing my skull to shrink to compensate for the smaller mass of grey matter..

This cannot be good.

simple wishes

edited to remove details

I'm sure all of you know about Rachael's" little happiness project" and her Simple Wishes store on etsy. This year, inspired by the new hot water heaters and the reaction the girls at Lapouhinka have to shower gels and lotions, we bought lots and lots of shower gel gift sets and lots of chapstick. (Chapstick is always a big hit. I was able to use the handy Russian phrase for "as many as you have" when purchasing it!)

I have delivered her gifts! The first was the "Ikea" orphanage. There were about 15 kids there--the rest were at camp. One of the girls told us that she didn't go to camp because the food is bad--the bread is so thin you can see through it. I don't know if they got to choose whether they went or not, but that was her story.

So, while the kids responded with sleepy (we woke them at 10:30) teenaged indifference, I know they were glad. The boys were excited about the dragon kits until they saw the Spiderman and Pirate of P sets. They LOVED those. I left some dragon kits for the youngest group.



Next we went to the orphanage where the little girl was that I just wanted to put in my pocket and take home. I really like this orphanage. When you walk in, you're greeted by the mural on the left. Upstairs you'll find the mural on the right. It's clean and fresh. Again, the kids were at camp. When they returned that night, instead of there being 27 kids, there would be 45! A nearby orphanage was closing and the kids were going there. The director was nervous, the kids (I'm sure) were nervous...I left a gift pack for each of them. Although I didn't get to give it to them personally, I think it will raise spirits all around for them to come to their new home (or to the home that is now filled with strangers) and find a gift waiting. The new rooms are painted, furniture is bought, and now Rachael has left each child a welcome home gift.

Here is some of the children's holiday artwork displayed. Can you find the bull? (Umm...it's not hard. And apparently it's the year of the ox--not bull. I guess oxen aren't as marketable as cows and bulls.)



We got to visit with the littles there. We walked in to find them eating an enormous lunch--big bowl of soup, kasha with cheese, sausages, bread and a fruit drink. I might have gotten them in trouble by making faces at them while they ate if the caretaker hadn't been talking to V. I just wanted them to eat so we could get to the presents and chocolates. Apparently my miming of spooning soup quickly with a whispered Russian "Eat!" was hysterical. Personally, I took it as an encouraging sign that this elicited giggles so quickly.

Only three of them were in the orphanage. The rest had been taken in by families or returned to their relatives for the holidays. These three were so precious! But, their stories are heartbreakers. One boy was brand new. He had only been in the orphanage for a few days. I wonder what his holiday was like this year. He's four--old enough to remember whatever it was. He clung so tightly to my hand as we went to choose a toy. But, he didn't take anything.

The little girl had been taken into a family (for fostering or adoption...) after a thirty-minute meeting. She went "home" with them on 30 December. On 4 January she was returned. She's a cutie--blonde pigtails--and very clever. She recited such a long poem for her gift! She got stuck part way through, gave an "oi", thought about it for a few minutes, sighed and said, "vsyo"--that's all.

Our last little friend looked like a little boy I taught from Georgia--all sparkly brown eyes and good humor. He is a charmer! He and I played with his truck. The only "guy" I could find who would fit in the driver's seat (we were disappointed the door didn't open) was a Viking warrior. Who knew Vikings were such good drivers? He was so tickled when the truck would jack-knife. Yes, I think I need more pockets for these three. (My little friend, K, we were told, had been taken into a family. I'm hoping it's the right K...and that she's safe and cherished.)

After leaving that orphanage we went to a children's home in an OLD building (Twenty years ago they decided that a new building was needed. It's still not completed. Every year they just paint over the cracks and crumbles and hope it holds together a little longer...). The kids there are teenagers. V remembers bringing backpacks to some of them for their very first day of school! They've been in this building their whole lives. They were all pleased with their new shower gels. There was such a difference between these children and the first ones we saw first. Yes, it was later in the day. Yes, you could easily see that some of them were...engaging in inappropriate behaviours. But, somehow, this last orphanage had more hope.

Oh--recently a child was adopted from this orphanage! It's nearly unheard of there. The girl herself didn't even know that in the US a family in Texas was patiently working on her adoption, I think for several years. And now, "little fish" is home with them.

So there you have it! Simple wishes granted once again. Well done, Rach! Besides creating happy children, the fact that their gifts were shower gels and shampoos means that those things (well soap and shampoo--she doesn't usually buy shower gel but the tweens and teens feel much more grown-up when they have it) won't have to be bought out of V's budget this month. That frees up money for medicine and other needs. The goodness multiplies!

China?

Not for ME! For YOU! Well...for you smug-marrieds out there anyway.

WACAP, an agency I've heard only positive things about, and had positive interactions with myself, has four 13-year-olds who need homes. All fees for these children are waived. If you are feeling your heart being softened towards older child adoption, but just can't see where the money would come from to complete an IA, this might be of interest to you.

Our staff has met with these children in China and would be happy to talk with you about them. We are advocating for three girls from China age 13 and one boy age 13 from China that must have completed adoptions SOON! They are all listed as healthy. They are in danger of turning 14 and "ageing out." This means they may have no support or resources and have to live on their own in China - if they are not adopted before they turn 14. There are also 30 other healthy children age 10-12 available for adoption.

There is no fee or application necessary to simply review these children's information. We also have video and photos.

GOOD NEWS! Married couples may ask for exceptions to the adoption requirements for these particular children. So if you don't fit all the guidelines perfectly you may still be able to adopt one of these healthy children. There is no fee to pay first to find out if you may be granted an exception.

All adoption fees have been donated for these children. There are no application fees, no adoption fees and no post placement fees. This is a savings of over $14000. There is also a no-interest loan of $4500 that may be available and you may be eligible for over $10,000
in Adoption tax credit. Parents will be responsible for paying for their homestudy, immigration, visas and travel fees.

Wait time:greatly reduced. WACAP (www.wacap.org) will do everything possible to expedite these adoptions. There are also 30 other healthy children age 10-12 available for adoption. WACAP (www.wacap.org) is a non-profit adoption agency with over 18 years of experience in
adoptions from China. Contact FamilyFinders@... or 1-800-732-1887.


Girl, 13, Artist.This lovely and bright-eyed girl, who loves
handicrafts, needs to find a family immediately. She is thirteen
years old and will no longer be eligible for international adoption
after July 2009. She is described as a polite girl that spends her
spare time knitting and painting. She also has an eye for style and
is sought out by her peers to put together their outfits. She is
healthy and developmentally on target. Adoption fees for this child
are waived.
XDL.0795.15717.01

Boy, 13, Athletic. Here's a popular and sensible boy that needs to
find a family immediately. He is thirteen years old and will no
longer be eligible for international adoption after August 2009. He
was sadly taken to the orphanage by his elderly grandfather, who took
care of him for several years following his parent's passing. He
spends his spare time either reading or playing sports. He is
healthy and developmentally on target. Adoption fees for this child
are waived.
ZHL.0895.15718.01

Girl, 13, Musician.This girl always puts a positive spin on life, and
now she's wishing to find warm and loving parents. She is thirteen
years old and will no longer be eligible for international adoption
after September 2009. Her aunt reluctantly made an adoption plan for
her because she was financially unable to care for her following her
parent's passing. She is a member of the institute's art ensemble
and her performances are highly praised by caregivers. She is
healthy and developmentally on target. Adoption fees for this child
are waived. QFL.0995.15720.07

Girl, 13, Helpful, Here's an easy-going and helpful girl that needs
to find a family immediately. She is thirteen years old and will no
longer be eligible for international adoption after October 1995.
Both of her parents have passed away and she entered life in an
institutional setting only last year. She takes pride in helping the
younger children with grooming and putting away their clothes, but
longs for a home and family of her own. She is healthy and
developmentally on target. Adoption fees for this child are
waived.SLL.1095.15721.01


Contact us at FamilyFinders@... or 1-800-732-1887.

prezzies

eta: caution--very long

I planned have a post for you about delivering orphanage gifts today.

I set out this morning and the Colorado-girl in me immediately categorized last night's snowfall as great powder. Images of skiing (from long ago) flitted through my brain.

Turns out, those images were eerily appropriate. I soon realized that my tires were not up to this latest snowfall. I was slipping. Even with all of that Colorado-girl training (I wish this weren't an automatic! Downshift. Let the engine slow you down. Gently pump the brakes. Steer into the skid.) or perhaps because of it, I realized I was not going to be driving hours out of the city to deliver gifts. Perhaps tomorrow the roads will be clearer.

But I still need to give you a gift-giving blog for today...

Aha! You remember one of Rachael's readers donated money for what turned out to be about 1 1/3 hot water heaters? Remember that I was going to just quietly purchase the other 2/3 (because you can't really buy a fraction of a hot water heater)? Well, I had some help! Our high schoolers held an Evening of Dickens and donated the proceeds to the hot water fund. And, one of my students who is leaving to go back home to South Korea donated all of his saved pocket money. His one request was that it help children with no families. What a gift from this seven-year-old!

So, I loaded up the car with the toiletries our school had collected


and the gifts I've been quietly gathering over the year (more shower gel & lotions, cool towels that fold into a tote bag, games, dvd's, cars, little dolls, hair brushes, computer headphones...). I went to Maxidom and bought a hot water heater with no problem (this was my third attempt--try #2 resulted in a refused credit card).



And, I went to my favorite children's home near the village of...


It had the empty, unsupervised feeling that reigns there during holidays. Many of the children were home. Group 7 (K & N's new group--I know, sorry. I skipped. There were two visits before this that you didn't hear about. On the first one, for N's birthday, I found out that the sisters had been moved to a new group. All the groups were restructured. All but one are now co-ed. I think it's both because numbers are down and to provide a civilizing influence. But that's conjecture. The tone of my little group of girls has certainly changed. The air of girlish innocence is gone. Yes, some of it is just the passing of time. But, some of it is the introduction of teenaged boys into the room. Somehow you can't play dolls while shoot-'em-up computer games are being played in the corner. I miss the magic. The other visit was for a Christmas party. I'll get to that one. I think.) was at the Circus.

I made my way to Group 5 (room 3.10) and found a couple of my girls. Ka is always there during holidays. Now, her brother (who smelled like smoke...which didn't please me) is in her group. I asked Ka and V to help me know how many boys and how many girls were in each group so that I could give each group (thought that was better than some people having way better prezzies than others...and I don't know them all...) a bag of treats. They made me a list, but we fell apart when I was asking which group had the older girls. I could figure out the older boys because I knew some names. But, I don't know the older girls. I couldn't remember the word for "teenager" and "old girls" and "big girls" were getting us nowhere. Asking for their ages was, likewise, fruitless.

Finally, I told them to get their coats and shoes and come with me. They came--without coats or shoes. (Of course, one of the older girls came ambling up the drive in only her bra...and gave me a very polite greeting before heading for the gates with teenaged bravado, so I'm not sure why the no coats worried me. V went back in for them later--and they accepted goodnaturedly my "I said so!") We opened up the car and I pulled out the prepared bags for groups 5 & 7. I showed them the "ingredients" for the other bags. With a lot of effort, we put the bags together. (It turns out there are two groups with mostly older girls. I goofed. Some got hair stuff. Some got stuffed animals. Ka, as always, was reassuring.) I let Ka and V deliver the bags to each group. I think they enjoyed being in on the giving. And, they loved their necklaces (thanks, Rach, for doing my shopping) and other goodies.

One of the boys in group 4 (I'm really impressing myself with keeping these groups straight because there is no rhyme or reason to them) told me, when I popped in, that there were no batteries for their racetrack. Silly me. I put batteries in with the train, but didn't know the racetrack needed them, too.

I went back to 3.10, said the boys needed batteries and asked if there was a shop in the village. (All this to a strange caretaker. There is a minimum of staff there during holidays.) I was told that the shop wasn't working. Ka jumped in and said it was working. After a short discussion, I decided to go and look for the shop. Imagine my surprise when Ka came along for the ride! I kept asking if it was okay. She assured me it was. It was such a strange feeling to be driving off with her--sort of forbidden and completely normal at the same time. We got to the shop, ignored the attentions of a couple of intoxicated men (Ka made the sign for crazy), bought the batteries, popped into the next shop so Ka could buy some chips (which brings up the question of pocket money--where does it come from?) and then went back.

The batteries were a big hit. The little boys had the racetrack set up downstairs in the...foyer/common/entry room and one of the big boys was helping them. When I passed through 45 minutes later they were all still gathered around it.

I was getting ready to leave and one little girl from group 4, who has been sidling up to me on other visits, was walking me to my car. There is only one other girl in her group, and they don't seem like the best of friends. I think she likes the girls in group 5 better. It's tricky. I want to be warm and friendly and generous to all of the children there. But, I don't have the salary to bring every child a gift on their birthday. I can offer friendship...but don't want to seem like I'm playing favorites and rejecting others gift-wise. So, aside from group 5, I've just been friendly and polite to the other children. That worked last year, but now the groups are all jumbled. I think I have to take on groups 5 and 7 this year...And this little girl does catch at me. So, tonight I gave in. I was more than polite. We talked about her Barbies. I asked when her birthday was and what she needed. How could I not? She had crept in and, while being very thankful for her groups' gifts, was admiring the more personal gifts given to group 5. She smelled their lotions; exclaimed over their necklaces. How could I not take on another little one? I think maybe it's all cookies, cards and chapstick this year. But, do I do this for everyone? Just the littles? But, (yes, another but)the older boy who was helping with the racetrack had special spark and a tenderness about him. And there's one of the older girls who is so gentle; who doesn't show up drunk to school; who is not one to run out in her bra. I'd love to brighten their birthdays...

Isn't there anyone reading this who is led to older child adoption and can adopt from the Leningrad Region? Anyone? I know so many wonderful children here.

Okay. Sorry. Had to ask. Back to that night. I'd been peppered with "Senk you, Ket!" from not only my girls, but from group 4 as well. It seems I'm better known than I thought! I was just leaving when I spotted N. Group 7 was back! I went up to their common room and found the boys there busily putting together the parking garage. I gave special gifts to K and N. I gave a gift to their caretaker. A bittersweet pride washed over me as K explained that in addition to the gel there was cream for after your shower. Hearing her explain it in my exact words to her from last April...it felt like someone poking a bruise on my heart.

After some time fooling around with my camera, it was time for me to go. It almost felt like the end of something. I'm not sure what. But I left with a grateful heart.

tallinn

I'm back! Tallinn was a nice trip--wide, clean streets and friendly people. 'Most everyone spoke English.

If you've been to other medieval cities in Europe, then this one could be passed. (My pick--Carcassonne in southern France.) But, for a little respite only a six-hour bus ride away ($50--not bad, eh?) this was a nice couple of days.

No, it was not in any way adoption-related. Estonia only does 30 international adoption each year. One US agency is accredited to work there--and it's not mine.

Enjoy the pix! It was cold and clear. The traveling buddies are friends from school--I taught their older daughter my first year here.We spent our time in the old city the first day, and that's where all these pix are taken. There was a Chirstmas market in the square selling hand-knit woolens and wooden...things. I got a lovely hat and a poncho (well, I was cold...it's my only excuse) both in charcoal grey (my fav color). On day 2 we did a little shopping...but didn't find anything worth the hassle of peeling off multiple layers to try them. No pix from that. I did pick up four books in English and a bottle of vanilla extract ($25 for that little bottle!).

Clearing passport control was tricky both ways. They didn't like my multiple visas. And they didn't like my friends' visas at all--and wanted to keep them until they returned! (Not all countries have the visas fixed into the passport like the US does. Theirs were separate documents.) But, we made it there and back and lived to blog about it.

more esl

Most of my esl students this year--and most of my class--are boys. They are taking things in stride and just going with the flow. The only story I have them, off the top of my head, was when a new esl student and an old esl student were talking. For some reason, China came up.

L: China is bad country. China cheats. (Assuming this is a reference to the last Olympics, but who knows.)
Y: And and Russia is a bad country, too.
L: (wanting to agree with his new friend, but still enjoying his time in Russia...) Yeah. Too much smoking.

My little esl girl is quite a different story. She is working so hard to figure out the new culture she's in. She wants to understand all the social norms of this "American" school. For example...

One day a student spilt his noodles all over the floor. It was on the part of our floor that isn't carpeted and he was upset. I told him it was okay and we cleaned it up and got him some more noodles.

About two weeks later, Seon Min asked, "Miss C, why K noodles all over the floor and you say 'It's okay.'?"

"Well, it was okay. K was upset. And I wanted him to feel better."

"But why, 'It's okay.'?"

"It was okay. We cleaned it up."

"In Korea, teacher no say, 'It's okay.' noodles all over floor. Teahcer say 'BE MORE CAREFUL!'."

We've had that conversation at least three times.

At conferences, I learned that SM was telling her parents that she didn't understand English. (Yeah, right.) She put on a blank face as they related their concerns. I told SM (who. along with the other esl kids is ready to graduate from esl pull-out to Russian lessons with the rest of her class) "SM, if you are not able to understand me in class, then you will not go to Russian. You will need to keep going to esl." The horrified and caught look on her face clearly showed me how much English she understands. I'm not sure mom and dad understood it, though.

The day after conferences, SM came in and said, "Yesterday..."

"Yes..."

"When we talking my mom and day..."

"Yes, at conferences..."

"My mom..."

"Yes..." (thinking Mom had something to say about esl)

"She very beautiful?"

"Yes, SM, your mom is very beautiful."

We were talking about what to wear for the winter concert. I was explaining that the girls needed to wear a dress.SM didn't know what a dress was. I was drawing pictures, using google images, showing traditional Korean dresses...she kept shaking her head no. I started showing skirts. Still no. (My principal came through during this time. Nice.) The next day, she came to school in a jumper.

"SM! That's perfect for the Concert! You can wear that. That is a dress."

Big sigh. "Yeah, but I don't know."

"It is. It will be great. And it's even red!"

"Yeah, but I think we sing on 12."

"No, we will practice on the 12th. (showing calendar) But, we will sing on the 17th."

"No, I think we sing on 12."

"You're right we will sing our song on the 12th at practice. But the concert will be on 17. You will wear you dress on the 17th."

"No. I think 12."

"Why do you think we will sing on the 12th?"

(big sigh) "I growing SO fast."

She was afraid her dress would be too short by the 17th. ;>

On the 17th, we were getting ready for the Winter Concert. All the kids were changing into their dressy clothes. Hands and faces were being washed. I was busy doing all (four of) the girls' hair. SM brought me her beautiful Korean dress (not the red jumper) to be tied. I tied a wonky bow and was re-tying it.

SM: It's okay. It's okay!
Me: No, it was not a nice bow. Let me do a nice one.
SM thinks then says, "Ah! I second grader. You second grade teacher. I look beautiful, all the girls look beautiful, and ALL the moms will say in EVERY language..."Miss C is GOOD teacher."

The next day she told me her mom DID say I was a good teacher. ;>

I hope so! I certainly enjoy my little ones. I thought you might enjoy them, too.

Estonia, ho!

Going to Tallinn. Be back in a few days...

2008

Remember votemom cheering things on last January with
2008 is the year for Kate!?

I guess 2009 will do just fine. ; >

Although, as is obvious by the bovine craze here, next year is the year of the bull in whatever calendar that is (Chinese?). And, frankly, I think I've had enough bull already. How can there be more? A whole year dedicated to the bull seems a bit much.

That's right. I keep forgetting. Segues are for children.

--my friend Suzanne during innumerable conversations.

As I was driving home from the orphanage today (Yes, yes--but those posts need to percolate. First they have to be treasured up in my heart. Then I can share.) I was thinking back to last year, when I brought dolls to my girls in 3.10. They have grown up so much this year!

And, I can honestly and truly say that I am grateful not to have had d2b home in 2008. This last year with these girls...was a privilege and a delight. It was a gift. Being with them breaks my heart and then fills the pieces with joy...over and over again.

heroic

During the great internet debacle of winter 2008, our heroine received word from her agency that the rep in her chosen region (chosen FOR HER, mind) was requesting two more bits of paper from the local municipality. Those two bits of paper would require every single piece of documentation already filed. ALREADY FILED.

Our plucky heroine groaned aloud and then gathered her resolve. She electronically mailed the assistant to the mover and shaker (becuase mover and shaker has been persistenly absent) at her agency and requested either another region or that the doucments already submitted be used for this latest request. Our heroine met with a wall of resistence to changing regions. Since "no one was in line in front of her in this region" the wait, she was told, would be shorter. Assistant m&s failed to recognize that waiting for recompilation of documents was still waiting!

Using a secret signaling device, our heroine contacted the rep in her city of residence, Super G. Super G, bless her a million times over, declared this latest request "useless" and was indignant. Super G and our heroine had already discussed this with the local municipality prior to the last home visit. Municipality woman had declared that it was not necessary to do everything twice.

Armed with this quote about the uselessness of the request, our heroine proceeded to telepathically (or telephonically) contact the asst. m&s who basically said, "Oh. Okay. I'll see if you really need this. If you do I'll send you paperwork for another region." Heroine arranges to contact asst. a week from Wednesday.

Our heroine claims this as a triumph, tosses her cape into the hamper and prepares for bed. For tomorrow there will be more battles to fight...and a good night's rest is her secret weapon.

*Happy* Christmas

There are lots of little happy things...

It's been just the right cold for Christmas. It's been ranging from -5C up to freezing. That means you don't really need an extra layer under your coat. And, we've had lots of pretty, fluffy snow falling.

The flowers I got on Christmas eve are still lovely. I don't know what they are...like crimson gerber daisies and green and white spiky-petalled ones.

I found cinnamon candles!

My bed looks like a giant candy cane--all red and white sheets, blankets, spread, duvet.

Since I folded up the duvet to reveal more of the red spread, the cats have spent more time curled up on my bed. Seeing them there is just a picture of contentment.

I was invited to the Christmas party at "my" orphanage. More on that later.

So. It's truly a happy Christmas season here. I just have to look for it. Keep looking for you happy.

songs that make you go hmmm

Before we leave the Christmas season...

Did anyone have any "carol epiphanies" this year?

I got all choked up over the line "Bless all the dear children in thy tender care." For the first time (I think...I don't remember this happening before...) there were so many faces of children who have become dear to me and need that loving care.

I always wonder at "Lo, He abhors not the virgin's womb." I mean, why would He? Isn't it kind of like moving into a brand new house that no one else has lived in?

Anybody else?

glum

I have internet at home!

This makes me much, much less glum.

But, I have this all typed out and saved...and it is true...so I'll post it. But don't worry.

New posts soon! I just have a million and four e-mails to wade through and general life to get on with first.

Mwah!

A lengthy dissertation on the state of glum

I am not one to dwell on misery. (Let other pens do that, right Jane?) But sometimes you have to really dig through the dung heap to find the beetles…or some such metaphor. Though why you’d want beetles, I’m not sure… And lately even those beetles have been few and far between. Maybe it’s because I haven’t been blogging. When I was a youth group leader and was constantly looking for everyday examples to illustrate my lessons, I saw them everywhere. Maybe blogging with a positive spin—because d2b will read this one day—helps keep my positivity at the fore. But right now, I’m not feeling very positive. I'm a little glum.

I also think I may be misleading you about life here. I get e-mails from people who have adopted saying they want to come and live in Russia—that they loved it here and want to move back. While I do not doubt the sincerity of these desires, I am going to humbly suggest that this might be like buying a t-shirt at a concert. It's not that you particularly want or need another t-shirt. But, you know—you go to a great concert (or play) and have an amazing experience and want to capture that emotional high. So you buy a t-shirt.

Living in Russia is different from visiting Russia. Maybe it’s just that I’ve been here too long. This is a "hardship posting" for the diplomats. It's a very nice hardship post, but is a hardship post nonetheless. At first I thought that it was ludicrous to categorize life here that way. Now, I'm beginning to understand. I find, and the other ex-pats here find, living in Russia, well, foreign and difficult. It could be limited to the life I have in this city. I can only say, from my experience, that a four-year tee shirt is too expensive and won’t wash well.

Try this for a week:

Use no internet. Don’t blog, e-mail, shop, pay bills, research, or download movies. Don’t watch any television.

Don’t use your home telephone because all you hear is static. Use your mobile, but only outside of your house.

Don’t drive anywhere. Walk or ask colleagues for rides everywhere you need to go.

Don’t use your ATM card (I’m cardless right now). And, be prepared for your credit card to be refused with no warning as a result of over-vigilant anti-fraud measures. Even though you’ve TOLD them repeatedly that you live. in. Russia. When credit card is refused, abandon all purchases and call it a day.

Accomplish no more than one errand per day—but take all day to accomplish that one.

Some variables cannot be replicated in your week-long experiment. You are going to be surrounded by people who smile. You will not be stared at maliciously for simply being American. (I’m quiet and don't speak English on the streets but I will wear my American boots and coat. That’s enough to get me looks of death. I used to apologetically smile and look away. Now, I stare back until they look away. These stare-offs last an uncomfortably long time. But I’m sick of it!)

You won’t be thrown under the bus-literally. Let’s say there’s a path cleared that’s two-persons wide. You and a friend are walking side by side. Another person is approaching. I’m willing to bet that without even THINKING about it, you and your friend will drop to single file so that the approaching person will be able to pass. That doesn’t happen here. The twosome (or threesome or foursome) will continue to muscle through. The single approacher can either step off the cleared path into the muck, or lower her shoulder and body check the inside man. Guess what I’ve been doing lately? Yep. Thank goodness for college football. This non-sharing happens when groups meet groups on the streets, too. It’s like living in West Side Story.

If you were actually here, courtesies I consider common would vanish. No one would hold a door for the person behind them. I live in the courtyard of a building. There is a big, iron gate through which you must pass to enter. Countless times, I’ve slowed my progress and waited to hold the door open for someone approaching behind me only to watch them let the door slam shut in the face of the person behind them. No one takes notice of the fact that someone’s arms are full of shopping and just HELPS. (Now, I’ve heard that this changes for people with young children and babushkas. I hope to experience that first exception, but not the second!)

These little things are wearing. There is a combative feeling on the streets. It’s not fun. And it’s worse in winter.

While you’re doing this week-long experiment, do it by yourself—no spouse, no friends (friendly colleagues are allowed to an extent, but no one to whom you would share more than pleasantries). Surround yourself with people who do not share your beliefs and world-view.

I don’t know if a week would really give you an idea of what this is like. A week with no technology is a vacation. Six weeks—particularly at Christmas--is a nightmare. Three-and-a-half years of this life is feeling like a long time. There is an exponential weariness that comes with living here. Add to that an apartment that is small and DARK. I’m sure things will get better as it gets lighter. And, I think I’ve convinced them to move me next year to an apartment that is roomier and lighter.

It hasn’t been a fun six weeks. I’ve gotten old (more wrinkles and my first sliver hairs—which actually look like my blonder bits but are a different texture. My sister says they’re caused by four-year-olds, so…maybe…). I didn’t go to the school Christmas party (no loss really, I’m decidedly *not* a party girl in any sense) because I was simply bursting into tears every time I opened my mouth. I think I was just feeling completely out of control—I couldn’t get my car or my internet fixed. I couldn’t order my niece and nephew’s birthday presents or anyone’s Christmas presents. New agency just said that I am not registered in any region and that I won’t be until I duplicate my entire hs dossier for a Russian sw to review. Someone I thought was my friend made a disparaging remark about me (I don’t know what it was because it was in fast, quiet Russian—but the jerk of the chin and the accompanying snicker were easily understood) right in front of me to our IMPOSSIBLE, vain, IT-nazi (who won’t listen and is mac incapable). That betrayal made me doubt all the other “friendlyships” I thought I had here. It was clear to me that I am still the outsider.

Oh, and please don’t say, “I could never live like that.” That’s my new pet peeve. I’m just sick of people telling me, “I could never wait as long as you have to adopt.” “I couldn’t live without internet.” because you know what—you could. You just DO. And somehow those statements seem to be blame-filled, as if I’m not doing everything I can to get my internet fixed and d2b home; as if there is an unspoken “I’d xyz and make it happen” on the end. Believe me, I've run the alphabetical gamut of possibilities.

Kind of a grumpy way to come back, huh? (And, I’m typing this into word on Christmas Eve, of all times, to save for when I do have internet. At least if it’s on paper, it might quit rattling around in my head.)

Please come back. I’ve got some amusing esl stories to share…

quickie

This one is for after Christmas. (But I'm typing it before...)

Still no internet.
Possibly a car...
Discouraging news from agency. (I wish they lived on the range. Or maybe I am supposed to move out to the range...) Just delays. And more delays.

Pressing on.

A long, grumbly post is all typed in Word and saved on my home computer for when internet is restored.

Wish yahoo wasn't blocked from school's server...

Miss you.

be ye merry

Snuck into school after the tech guy left to send you warm Chrismas greetings.

I, myself, am striving to claim the words of this song as my own this holiday season:

God rest you, Kate (though neither merry nor a gentleman).

Let nothing you dismay.

Remember: Christ our saviour was born on Christmas day to save us all from Satan's power when we had gone astray.

Oh, tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy!

Oh tidings of comfort and joy!

Since the best present to give is one that you want yourself, that's what I'm sending each of you this Christmas.

Comfort.

And Joy!

Tomorrow I'll open an anticipated card from my forever friend (30+ years = forever) and go to church. I'll borrow a friend's phone so I can call my niece and nephew. It will be a nice, quiet day.

p.s. Look what I found under my tree! Beazy was snoozing there so contentedly that I had to let her stay--even though the little Christmas tree (story forthcoming) is on the usually verboten table. After I took the picture I looked closer and saw evidence of Mia--a fallen angel and a toy mouse deposited by Dyed Moros' feet.

quickie

I have water!

Still no internet.

Still no car.

Still no news.

But, I do have full cupboards and an empty laundry basket. ;>

one thousand and counting

Happy 1000th day!

Many are the plans in (Kate's) heart, but it is the LORD's purpose that prevails.

Proverbs 19:21

I had a feeling when I shared my hopes for news on this day that I'd get to share that verse from Proverbs with you instead. So, I guess that plan worked out the way I thought...in a convoluted sort of way...

I've been thinking today about all I planned as far as this adoption is concerned.

I signed with first agency in March (2006). I thought that was a good time because it gave me a year before I wanted to bring d2b home. The agency thought we'd be home by Christmas 2006, but I told them that March 2007 was better for me--it would let my maternity leave run into summer vacation. And, I told them that I knew other families were longing to be home by Christmas. I told them I was happy to wait. March 2007 would be perfect.

So much for that planI planned to bring d2b (plural) home to my big, sunny, quiet flat.

I planned to be back in the USA by now.

I planned to have water, internet and a working car. All. the. time. (Still 0 for 3 there...)

Even though the plans I made are not bearing the fruit I expected (like planting an apple seed and getting a pomegranite), the plans that are being made on my behalf and of behalf of d2b, the plans that are purposed for us, are more wonderful than I can possibly imagine. They're perfect. They're so perfect my little mind, which can't see all the ripples, couldn't plan them. So, I'll just keep trustfully waiting. And hoping. With my eyes fixed on the prize. s.

Thanks for joining me in celebrating the fact that today I'm 1000 days closer to d2b!

I did e-mail new agency today to ask if there was any smidgen of news...

while they're at p.e....

Just popping in to wish you all a belated Thanksgiving.

Still no car.
Still no internet.

But, those little ducks are still marching smartly behind me every time I look over my shoulder. And for that, I'm very thankful.

Thanksgiving stories as soon as I'm able to post from home.

good news

Long-time readers will have guessed that I have had no internet for the past week and a half. And, I feel funny about posting from school. But, I've overcome my compunction to cc you all on an e-mail I wrote to new agency today:

Here's good news! My new I-171H is finally, FINALLY here!

With the MOE back in the office next week, I think it's time for more good news...and all my ducks, those tricky little bureaucratic ducks, are finally in a row.

December 3 will be 1000 days since I signed with my first agency and started this process officially. (That doesn't count the two years prior that it took for me to clear debts, save up adoption fees and make myself more "stable" by giving up acting and going back to teaching.) I think it's TIME!

I predict good news on December 3. Should we start a pool?

BEST!
Kate

How's that for good news?

crystal clear?

Can you believe I've resorted to this? Here are the answers from an online "crystal ball". (Silly. I know.) All in all, I was quite pleased...

Will I meet my daughter this year?
The outcome you desire will come to pass.

Will my daughter come home this year?
Not a chance.

Is d2b plural?
Yes!

field trip!

Teaching third culture children presents some interesting dichotomies.

My students can't go outside and play by themselves, but we're taking a field trip to Moscow. The cast of Seussical is on its way to show the elementary students in our big, Moscow school our play later this week. It's a first for us. And we're excited! About ten of these students are only third and fourth graders, (Can you parents of eight- and nine-year-olds imagine sending our child to Moscow for three days?) but a trip to Moscow while exciting, is not out of the realm of normal for them.

We were talking about how we'll travel (train this time) and some security procedures we'll need to follow (no one leaves the train car--even to go to the bathroom--without an adult) when questions came up about seating. I asked how many people had taken this train (the "sitting up" train as opposed to the "sleeping" train) to Moscow. Only two people had. When I asked who had been on a train before, every hand was raised and some scoffing, "Of COURSE" noises were voiced.

It's amazing to me what is normal to my students. They can convert currencies in their heads, regularly carry their passports, are more likely to suspect visa issues than the flu for an extended absence of a classmate and are experts at navigating an airport. They are friendly and flexible. They know how to blend in to a foreign culture. But, they don't ride bikes to their friends house, know much about their "home country", and only three of my twenty-two cast members can turn a cartwheel. They learned to swim, ride bikes and tie their shoes late.

There are advantages and disadvantages to raising a third culture child. I've read about it, attended seminars and done a lot of observing. Some families, most families are much closer and much stronger. They are the constant. Siblings are closer--better playmates and more staunch protectors. But, there is an element of insecurity. Moving every three years becomes a habit. Many tck have a hard time reintegrating into their home cultures when they return. And, many live unsettled lives--moving or reinventing their lives frequently. I thought I'd come home soon after adopting. But, recent developments have made me think that I might prefer to stay abroad for the next four years. ;> For now, I'll settle for a trip to Moscow. We'll let you know how the touring version of Seussical goes!

не сказка

This was in my last (long) post:

...Yesterday I got there and found only two of my eight girls there. The others were home for the holdiay...and a few are home with grandparents for good! This is a fairy tale ending to their stories that left me overjoyed for them, a little worried that it wouldn't last, and heartbroken that I didn't get to say goodbye...

I was wrong. It isn't a fairy tale at all. Two sisters, L&P are being taken into the home of an older lady, but it isn't their grandmother. She has also started the paperwork to take one of my other sisters, N. N's older sister, Kl will not be staying with them as I'd originally been told. Something happened and I don't know what.

I am hoping to get to see N before she moves for good. She's back in the children's home today and will be there until her paperwork is processed. I am hoping that at age 10 she has to be consulted for a guardianship as she would for an international adoption. But, on the other hand, I hope she does not have to be the one who makes the final decision. I cannot imagine being ten years old and having to choose between remaining with my sister, the sister who took such good care of me in the children's home, the only family I have left, the only family I've known for the last few years and the opportunity to leave the children's home. She would be with good friends, but not with her sister. N is a meek, gentle, funny girl who needs to be in a home. I worry about what will happen to her if she stays in the orphanage. She isn't a fighter. But leaving her sister behind might be more than she can bear.

Oh, my sweet girls! What impossible portions have been put on your plates.

3.10 yesterday

My visits to celebrate birthdays in 3.10 start days before. I find out what the girls want for their birthday and go shopping. In addition to a requested item (shower gel, a hair dryer, black ballet-style shoes), I like to add in some "accessories" and include a new item of clothing. I know they have plenty to wear. I've seen it. But, I think it must be nice for them to have something new, too.

I always bring an activity for all of us to do together. I want to spend time with them. And, I want them to celebrate their friends' birthdays without feeling jealous. We make bracelets, decorate pots and plant flowers...that sort of thing. Yesterday we had салон красоты с Кейт (a beauty salon with Kate). I took basins, new towels, foot soak, scrub and lotion, nail files, toe separators and lots of miniature bottles of nail polish. After Kl's reaction to her lotion, I wanted to spend some time on girly pampering.

I also bake. This time, I made blondies. They were awful! So...I made some chocolate sauce, bought four different kinds of Baskin Robbins and dug out the sprinkles an ex-pat left behind. I packed plates (no disposable bowls) and plastic spoons. And, I picked up bananas on the way. Despite bagging them in a thermal bag and surrounding them with gallon ziplock bags of ice, we had slightly melted sundaes. (Ice cream soup!) They were not impressed with my description of American banana splits, but enjoyed the ice cream first and the bananas later.

Yesterday I got there and found only two of my eight girls there. The others were home for the holdiay...and a few are home with grandparents for good! This is a fairy tale ending to their stories that left me overjoyed for them, a little worried that it wouldn't last, and heartbroken that I didn't get to say goodbye. I'm hoping I can at least send them some letters.

I seem to come during holidays often. That just seems to be how the girls' birthdays (and my car's health!) coincide with my schedule. While it's sad to not get to see everyone, I think it might be even better for the girls left behind to have something special. We had a new friend (She a little girl who was new and shell-shocked last Christmas who recieved a doll.) join us and two boys. The groups had been somewhat combined over the holiday to let staff have a break. The boys were happy to join in the ice cream party--wishing N all sorts of lovely things--but declined the beauty salon. Instead they played video games.

My girls are so sweet and so dear! They laughed and played with me and with each other. They did and re-did (of course I remembered the remover, cotton pads and cotton swabs) their nails--



--and mine.


(left hand by N--sort of French manicure with daisy,
right hand by Ka--feathered with a toothpick and three silver dots)

They demonstrated the dances that N has been learning in her Saturday classes. Ka has the chicken pox and was covered in green spots, but it didn't dim her smile. She came running up the path to meet me and beamed the entire time. She and N walked me to my car afterwards despite my protests that they were not suitably dressed. (Their caretaker dismissed that thought and let them walk me to my car in shorts and camis! They'd gotten very hot dancing. I've moved pre-teen underwear up my mental list of needed items.) We just have such an easy time together. It's warm and relaxed and simple and fun. Each visit lets me see a little more and know them a little better. There weren't surprises in personality this time...which made me feel like I really DO know them now. And, as I was leaving, I met another new girl from a different group and encouraged them to invite her to the salon. They did with all eagerness--putting her hands in to soak and getting out the polish for her to choose. I love their generosity.

I had the chance to chat with two of the caretakers who were there while the girls were preparing their dance show for us. I invited them to the beauty salon and did their hands, too! While it wasn't exactly a footwashing, being able to take their hands, both the hands of these precious girls and of these women, and wash them and soothe them was a privilege. (No one was willing to take off their shoes.) The caretakers wanted to know if I had children. I told them I didn't, that I wanted to adopt, that St. Petersburg said no. When they asked why I just told them I didn't know--maybe because I was an American. They thought this was a nightmare. I agreed. They asked if I was married, how old I was, where in America I was from. I saw the newest pictures of their children and grandchildren.

I enjoy the time I get to spend with them. It makes me feel a part of a team. The girls' primary caretaker, AN, loves them so much. It shows not just in how she treats them--an affectionate pop on the yagadeetsi, including me in conversations about cigarettes so that I can add my warnings to hers, telling me what marks everyone had in school, the way she LISTENS to them, the way she encourages each one to show what is special about her--but in how they treat each other. There is much teasing and laughter. There is a generosity of spirit. There are affectionate kisses on the little ones' foreheads and pats on the head. It's a magical room, 3.10.

Yesterday, AN, was telling me why different children were in the orphanage. I didn't really understand all of it, though I'll ask my friends here about a certain word and gesture. The grief that she had over these parents who didn't realize how good, how kind their daughters are was easily understood and shared. We comiserated over the injustice of it. I think she knows how much I love these girls and want the best for them. I did find that one of my sister sets had no mother and father. It just makes it harder to leave them. Her wonderment of the injustice of them having no parents and me having no children was comforting in a way. When the directors and caretaker find out I want to adopt and ask me to come back for one of their children, it is a great honor. The trust they have in me is humbling and encouraging.

So, it was a typical visit. It was happy and joyful. The planning is fun. The visit was wonderful. The drive home is long and hard.

less possible

I had an e-mail from new agency to say that Miss Possible is decidedly less possible now (though still not impossible). This has left me feeling...relieved. The MOE in her region and I have the same concern--and her very best interest at heart. This is a good thing. REALLY.

(I knew I bought those boots too soon!)

in hot water

I am a small car kind of girl. My car of choice when back home in the US--a vintage (read, "old, affordable, 150K+") BMW 3 series. Seriously. Love them.

When I moved to St. Petersburg, I didn't really need a car. I had friends who took me grocery shopping that first year, and everything else was withing walking distance. The second year, I decided to buy a car. I wanted to be able to take d2b to the doctor if needed without calling a taxi and to have more freedom and control over my schedule. (Don't laugh. That was before I knew about the random towing and Mechanical Munchhausen.)

Because of my job, I have the privilege of having diplomatic plates. That means, I need to buy a car that has dip plates. Switching types of license plates is unheard of--probably very expensive and paperwork intensive. So, I asked around at school and the consulate. No dice. There were some cars available from teachers at the Moscow school--including a SAAB that sounded right up my alley. After getting jerked around by a real jerk, it became clear that the SAAB was not coming anywhere near my alley. BUT, the then-new principal in St. P was getting a new car, so I could buy the old principal's car. It's a Blazer. It's huge.

That's not all bad. It is harder for me to wiggle through traffic. But, it's already knocked around, so I don't worry about that. It gives me some weight to throw around when push comes to shove as it so often does in Russian traffic. And, it fits loads of orphanage donations!

Last week, my car came back (yea!) but needs new brakes (boo.). I said the brakes would have to wait until I made some orphanage trips. On Friday, V and I visited four orphanages and delivered lots of medicine, used toys and outgrown clothes. Today, I went to see my girls in 3.10. Along with the usual birthday goodies, I was able, thanks to one of Rachael's readers, deliver a hot water heater! This generous reader donated enough to money purchase one-and-a-half hot water heaters for the kiddos at the L. orphanage. (And, since Maxidom wouldn't let me buy half a hot water heater, I kicked in for the rest.)

So all I had to do was shop for hot water heaters. Why do I think I can do these things? If I know what I'm doing, then my limited Russian vocabulary isn't a problem. If my limited vocabulary covers an unfamiliar activity, I'm fine. Today...welll... I had been assured by V (WHY do I keep believing her? And people in general??) that all I had to do was ask for a hot water heater. (Guess what--"boiler" is the same in both languages. I did find that out before I went.) When I asked what kind, what specifications, she told me it would be easy. Any one would work. She implied that there would only be one kind.

Maybe she didn't know what she was talking about (ya think?) and just acted like an expert (not a cultural trend or anything...). Maybe the last time she shopped for hot water heaters there only was one kind. Not so today. There were LOADS of different models!! Being a brat, I didn't want to call V to ask about it. So I called M at the orphanage. Who doesn't speak any English.

I explained where I was and what I was doing (Hi, M, it's Kate. I'm at Maxidom doing the shopping for the boiler. No, not the children's home, MAXIdom. The shop. You understand? I am doing the shopping for the boiler. The machine to do hot water. Yes? Please will you speak to the man here?) and we got it sorted. There was a long conference that included me and four employees--one who was helping, one who was listening, one who (it was much later revealed) spoke a little English and a woman who was there for solidarity. I finally chose one--not the most expensive and not the cheapest. (None were brands I recognized.) NACH, the men "weren't allowed" to help me take it to my car. Apparently they weren't even allowed to help me take it out of the department. Fortunately, simple machines are a part of the second grade curriculum, so I was able to navigate through the store (on the cart it was taller than I), pay, get the warranty stamped and then load it into the car myself (said the little red hen).



When I bring donations, I like to slip in and slip out. I don't like to have thanks loaded upon me. (Had an extremely uncomfortable moment when the then-principal came with the students and I to deliver some donations to a children's home and she wanted the kids there to understand that our students had collected clothes and toys for them. EXTREMELY uncomfortable.) So, after getting some help unloading and handing off the warranty, smiling and nodding, I left to find my girls.

Rachael's reader, I send all the thanks to you! I know that hot showers will be greatly appreciated this winter. Spacebo bolshoi!

eat, shop, and be merry

Still no answer from my sw.

(eta: Oh, the power! No sooner did I publish this than my sw called! She is starting on the update and thinks that the Russian sw visit will be enough to satisfy USCIS about my move.)

Still no answer from new agency.

Sent fingerprints to Moscow via DHL. (note: That cost as much as a Fed Ex to the US...but will be faster and I now have a nifty discount card. another note: I shouldn't have bothered translating everything into Russian as we had to put it BACK into English. The DHL worker was impressed, though...and gave me the nifty card.)

So. Grumble, grumble. No news from the people who should be bringing me glad tidings of great joy. What's a girl to do when there's no joy to be tided? Make brownies and shop online.

I have all sorts of things in all sorts of sizes...but decided I needed more in Miss Possible's sizes. (Actually, a review of the closet post-spree showed I had more than I thought...but the new items aren't overkill. And I could still use pajamas...)

Today I bought the two items that I'd been putting off buying until I know sizes (coat and shoes). That was very sensible of me. Today, I didn't want to be sensible. So, I just guessed...and guess a little big. Who knows? If they are too small, we donate. If they're too big, way too big, we save them and shop some more.

[I'm still holding off on her bitty baby until I know for sure what d2b looks like (so the baby will look like her). Well, I'm holding off for now...]


Mia, ever the helpful kitty who wants in on the action, jumped up to give her approval...and attack the not-new elephant. (Beazy approved and then left when the camera appeared.) This photo was taken and posted to appease the demanding readers who want to know about the felines. You people are nuts. Lovable, but nuts. They're CATS--not people.

speed bump, eta

DHS Moscow says my fingerprints were rejected. (Don't remember the exact verbige.) These were the fingerprints we submitted in JUNE.

They told me to resubmit. On the little cards.

But the consulate doesn't HAVE the little cards and told me to just print out the form.

Great. SW not answering e-mails. Wondering if we send in the update before we have the actual I171H if this will speed things up or slow things down.

Edited to add...

Do you remember Simon on Captain Kangaroo? (Well you know my name is Simon, and the things I draw come true...) Sometimes it seems like I have his computer. I posted there was no news on my I171H and I got that message about my fingerprints. (Now they say maybe they will use old fingerprints. Quick vent: I cannot stand the new policy they have at the Moscow DHS office of not giving out names. There used to be a very nice, incredibly helpful woman there named Christie Lloyd. Now, it's just messaged from "The Public Liason Unit". And if you call, they won't tell you to whom you're speaking. How is that a security issue? Edited vent inc case they are reading. ) And, after I wrote this post, my sw e-mailed me with an encouraging possibility. She isn't answering her phone yet, but...I'll call that progress.

Ohhh the power. Maybe this is my new hero power. I have fingers that can type the future!

No. Too much pressure. I need to have this power removed. (But, um, I'm not giving it to that bad guy. Chah!)