Adventures In Adoption

About a Week at Home

2010-12-01T09:53:00.001-05:00

Hi everyone- I know you've been wondering if we've dropped off the face of the earth or not. It has been a whirlwind of activity now that we are back at home, so I've really been too zonked to write anything by the time bedtime rolls around and we get a bit of peace and quiet.

Right now as I'm typing this, Mena is sitting on the couch, watching her first video in the "Your Baby Can Read" series, which was given to me by a friend on my Ladyboards. Unbelievable generosity out of the blue once again- she couriered me the entire series, word cards, booklets, plus a couple other videos of Sesame Street. I was interested in this program before the adoption as I thought for a child who already was fluent in one language transitioning to another, it would be a great help in catching up to other kids in her peer group. She has to relearn all the most basic stuff like body parts and colours, and names of food- so I thought it would be a charm on top of all the other things we are doing with her anyways. She's watched her video 4 times now, and she continues to amaze us by her grasp on language- but now you can see that she has clearly made a connection between the letters and words having meanings. Even in Kiev she was very interested in books, and would flip through newspapers or magazines sort of like an adult, pointing at things and whispering or shaking her head. Just doing the action of turning pages and being interested in the pictures was a great building block, now she's pointing to words and asking what they mean.

Sleeping has been a bit of a PITA the first week. Not only was jetlag to blame, but she had to get used to sleeping by herself (no Mommy in the bed like the hotel) and in a new bed in a strange room to boot. She started out by getting up at least half a dozen times a night plus hours of screaming, then it was about 4 plus more screaming, then 2 plus screaming for an hour straight; now mercifully, she is getting up one time to pee with no screaming at about 5am. It was absolutely hell on wheels. I can't tell you how mentally exhausted and just plain burnt out we were, but me in particular. I know some of you are probably rolling your eyes going, "Poor baby- 10 days of this, cry me a river." But it was 3 weeks of not even being away from her for even 2 minutes, we were like Siamese Twins in Kiev, with the rollercoaster of all the adoption stuff going on, and feeling like you had to be "on" for everyone, 24/7. There was no adult company over there, the apartment had minimal toys, I had no car to take her anywhere, we were out of money, walking anyplace was like going on safari- it was getting ugly by the end of it. (I would advise anyone who adopts internationally to make CERTAIN you have somebody with you there to the very end- even if it means having a friend or other family member come out for a week if they have any interest in doing so, if your spouse needs to go back to work. This would be my #1 piece of advice. And I am a well-seasoned traveller who is fiercely independent, and thrives on adventure.) So when she decided to scream for hours on end at bedtime added to that exhaustion & frustration when intellectually you know there is nothing wrong except the kid is overtired and fighting off sleep- not to mention you are dying for it yourself... I had a couple of days when I needed to just lock myself in the bathroom when Ois would take her just so I could cry alone with nobody pulling on a limb of my body.

A week later, and my beautiful blue light in the mornings has solved the problem. This was the blue light that I bought at Costco a couple of winters ago for Seasonal Affective Disorder that apparently sets your circadian rhythms when daylight is lacking- NASA uses it for the astronauts when they are out in space in the dark to keep their body clocks on schedule. I thought it was a bunch of hocus pocus, but Costco has a great return policy so I figured I'd give it a go. Needless to say it worked like a charm, and it was the first winter I didn't suffer depression. It also is made for travelling with set times they tell you to use it depending on if you are travelling east or west. So when we get up in the mornings, I put it on for about 20 minutes and we just go about our routine. You don't stare right at it, you just have it somewhere in your field of vision. It is bloody amazing. In 2 days of using it, Mena was sleeping right through the night properly. So was I. And the other new thing we've figured out is that when our little early bird rises, we've explained to her that she is to stay in bed and read books quietly. OMG, she is doing it! It has completely recharged all of us, and everything is much more fun when you aren't a cranky, walking zombie. Thank heaven for small miracles!

I'm going to leave it here for now, tonight is the first night of Hanukkah, so we've got some scooting around to do today to get ready. I also need to finish the mountain of thank-you cards I actually got to start yesterday so they can be mailed out. I will write about the plane ride home and the lovely (ha!) Immigration process at the airport- where they lost our bags and screwed up on our paperwork which delayed us after an already late flight for yet another 3 HOURS, and then finally getting home and walking through the door. That part was wonderful- the crazy excitement on her face when she saw the cats for the first time (and Mena had never seen a cat before in her life) was something both of us will remember forever! Pure magic! All's well that ends well, I guess.

A 25 Year Old in a 4 Year Old Body

2010-11-20T06:52:00.002-05:00

With just days to go now before we're home, I wanted to bring Mena to a couple of places in Kiev before we leave. We'll definitely be back- hopefully sooner rather than later, but still I wanted a few pictures from this trip in particular.

Yesterday we went to Lavra. I really wanted to bring her to see the beautiful gold domed churches & to walk the grounds and hear the music. I wasn't so sure how she would do in the caves of the dead saints, so that wasn't going to be a sure thing. We had to take the metro, then a bus plus walk a fair distance, but she did great! She loved the crazily steep escalators and the bus was a hoot. When we arrived I explained that this was a special place and that she would have to speak very softly. Again, I needn't have worried- she was so perfectly good, we both got such adoring looks from the nuns & monks. The church itself was closed, so we just could go into the small adjoining chamber but they still had a couple of places for the thin beeswax candles and then beautiful golden pictures of saints and vases full of fresh flowers gently wilting in the soft light. She did so well that I thought she'd be fine in the caves, so down we went. She wasn't afraid of the dark at all and was completely silent. She was especially interested when I held my candle up to illuminate the ancient paintings of each 10th century saint over their glass coffin so she could see who was inside. Spiritually and artistically curious- this is totally my kid all the way.

Later that night I was craving sushi in the worst way. We've been eating at home all week on pretty "simple & rustic" food, as my dear husband would call it, so I decided it was time for a single treat. Kiev is littered with sushi restaurants, I guess with all the skinny supermodel types around, they need to eat something- so what could be better than 6 of them eying up a single piece of sashimi with their shared glass of water, right?

So we walked down to a place I've been looking at for days with my mouth watering, and we went there. As we entered the small glass vestibule before opening the door to the hostess area, I bent down to eye level with Mena & told her this was a restaurant, and that she'd have to use a quiet voice inside & that we were about to have a tasty supper. I could see the faces of a couple of waitresses inside no doubt going, "Oh no- what kind of idiot brings their kid to a sushi restaurant to run amok while people are trying to eat? Whatever. I just knew Mena would be great. The only thing I wondered about was if she would like the food.

We were seated at a booth at a window overlooking the busy street outside. It was dark so we watched the people coming home from work. I ordered a sampler of different types of sushi, and a skewer of teriyaki chicken for Mena just in case. Out of nowhere, Mena turned into a 25 year old on a dinner date. As we shared a bottle of sparkling water and waited for the food, I saw that under the table she had crossed her legs like an adult- honestly I don't know where on earth she got the idea to do this- there was no one around us that she could possibly see to mimic, and I wasn't sitting like that either! And then as we were talking, she was gesticulating with her hands like a movie star being interviewed. She is so funny!

She tried everything & loved most of it, save handing me back some of the chewier bits of seaweed wrap from the maki she was eating. I'm so happy that she is an adventurous eater- she is going to fit in just fine with our lifestyle and love of eating a variety of different types of food. I know God will probably pay me back for saying so one day, but I don't know what I would do with a picky eater. I can't help it, but I almost see it as a sort of character defect. Sorry everyone out there who has a kid who will only eat cheerios or food that is the colour red. I know our next kid will be like this just to serve me right.

In fact, I'd say Mena is almost too adventurous. I really have yo watch her like a hawk sometimes because she has some weird holdover behavior from the orphanage around food. Like, I've nearly not caught her in time from picking up bread off the street that pigeons are eating. Yikes. It's not that food was rare on the orphanage, it's more a case that with a dozen 4 year olds, you can't monitor what everybody is putting in their mouths 24/7. So if something falls on the floor & nobody is there to say no, you'll probably eat it. Or one of your friends will.

Also cooking in the kitchen together is a new thing for her too. In the orphanage, food was prepared in a large kitchen that was off-limits to the kids. So unlike a baby who grows up watching you prepare meals in their jolly jumper in the kitchen doorway, or a toddler who sees you make toast & eat it at the counter, none of these kids have ever had that family style experience of seeing what goes on in a kitchen. When food falls on the floor it gets thrown out- not eaten. Food that is in the fridge is clean, but food in the garbage is dirty. If nobody teaches you this, how would you know? So yes, I have caught Little Miss trying to pick individual kernels of corn out of the bin, and it was a disconcerting experience the first time. Now she has begun to understand though, so we're getting there. It's really funny how much stuff you take for granted when you raise a baby from infancy, compared to a child who not only has to learn a new language from scratch, a new home to live in, new people to live with, and then all the new rules about *how* to live in a family environment, and what is expected & acceptable. It's all trial by fire. And she is doing so well- how hard this must be for her and also how exhausting for her little brain & spirit to cope with, as well as all the normal kid things that all children have to deal with as small ever-learning people. I don't think I could do it if somebody plunked me down in the middle of a brand new life.

Back in Kiev

2010-11-20T06:19:00.001-05:00

It's Tuesday morning, and I've got great news to report- yesterday I picked up Mena's visa from the Canadian embassy! FINALLY it's all over- finished, finito, done, complete. Adoption of one little monkey: Mission Accomplished! When we left the embassy yesterday, I wanted to sing it from the rooftops! Hey world, it's all over! Now we can get back to normal life again, but this time with our kid. Yippee!

I think so much time has passed since the train ride, and the fact that it's been practically impossible to write anything these last days as we've been getting used to each other & try to establish a routine, I'm just going to leave it at that. It was a 17 hour ride from where we got her passport back to Kiev. I have to say that Mena is a real trooper when it comes to traveling. She did better than me! She easily amused herself the entire way, slept easily, wasn't afraid of the non- stop motion or loud sounds, and generally enjoyed the new exciting experience. Mommy on the other hand, not so much. The iPhone ran out of batteries within 30 mins because I forgot to charge it before we left- I'm used to my dear hubby taking care of details like this as Technology King- I had dried barf on one pant leg that was soon to be accompanied by pee down the other as I insisted on doing train gymnastics in not letting Mena's bum touch the gross toilet seat. (One foot propped against bathroom wall, bent at waist, child hovering precariously over disgusting stainless steel toilet while train lurches and jerks like a mechanical bull. Etc.) When we finally arrived at our new apt in Kiev, all I wanted was a hot shower and a proper bed. Sleeping beside Mena is like sleeping beside a helicopter: limbs constantly in motion, plus the entire time I had visions of her falling off the narrow train bed so I slept in a fetal position scrunched up & occupying the least amount of space possible while Her Highness stretched out and slept like a starfish the entire way.

In any case, our first couple of days alone in the new apt were something like a comedy routine. I'm by no means an idiot or totally inexperienced looking after small kids, as when my 2 youngest sisters were born I was already a teenager. However there are just some things that leave you feeling unexpectedly like a helpless idiot when left alone for the first time properly with your own new kid. Such as "safety valves" on the sippy cup. After reading the instructions in 4 languages and looking at the picture demonstration, nobody tells you that you need a frigging engineering degree to figure out how NOT to spill apple juice down your tits when you try to assemble the thing and test it 15 times before you give it to your kid. It was like a scene from a parenting movie where the idiot bachelor is forced to babysit a child for the first time in his life.

Also, when you have oceans of time laid out in front of you, and you are well used to going with the flow of how you feel in regards to food, errands and recreation, it is a daunting thing to try and figure out what suits a small person who has now become your new sidekick. All I kept asking myself was WTF women ever managed to get the vote? Seriously. How? With modern conveniences like washing machines & running hot water & bakeries for bread & supermarkets for food & cars to ride in... How on bloody earth did anyone ever get anything done with ONE child, much less 8 or 10? I truly can't wrap my mind around it. I have to say that first day I felt like a miserable failure. I had grand ideas that we would walk on down to Kreshatyck Street and meander happily to the grocery store, a rainbow arching in the sky as bluebirds fluttered carefree above our heads and flutes played merrily somewhere in the background. It's only been a handful of days and already I'm laughing at my own breathtaking naivety. I completely overestimated how far anyone can possibly walk when 90 degree hills and 3 bags of groceries plus a hungry, overtired, and needing-to-pee-every-ten-minutes 4 year old are involved. Hey, I have a new team task for the creators of the Amazing Race! And add to that locating a CLEAN, NON-SQUATTING variety of a bathroom, free of bitchy little 20 year old salesgirls who pretend that they don't understand you when they see a near-hysterics child grabbing their crotch and crossing their legs repeating "Peezits, Mama! Peezits!" over and over again. There is a special place in hell for people like this, and all I wish for is that karma will happily visit them one day- and I hope especially for some wicked diarrhea with no toilet paper and no spare changes of clothes on top of it. See who will be laughing now, Miss Minimum Wage.

Mena had great fun in the grocery store as always- she loves to ride in the cart- and she sings and likes to hold things to "help". She also enchants every person who walks by, talking to them like her chirpy self and I should start carrying hand sanitized for all the cheek pinching and hand shaking that goes on. She is just full of confidence and happiness, and has no problems with making or holding eye contact with anyone, which is a very common problem with kids with her background. Again I credit all of this to the incredible care she received at the orphanage. This would be a very different kid had she been in another lesser facility.

The only thing you have to watch out for is going too much on the other direction: being overtly and undiscriminately friendly with people & strangers. The other side of the coin is that the child feels they belong to everybody, because they belong to nobody, so to speak. So you have to be very careful with a kid like this- even more so than a child who is overly shy. The last thing you want is your kid to feel like they can meet a stranger in a park and wander off with them. Although it may be hard to understand and sad for all the eager friends & family who are rightly dying to give cuddles & want to sit on laps, until your child is firmly attached the advice is to not allow this. Laps are only for Mommy & Daddy, and ditto for giving candy, too, they say. I think we're pretty OK with Mena though.

When I get home I'm going to make a list of the best books on kids & adoption and post it. Lord knows I think I have read just about everything currently in print plus library books- some being very good & others pointless.

Major Blog Updates x 3

2010-11-14T06:31:00.000-05:00

Just did an update dump from the last 7 days without the Internet. There are 3 really long posts, so go back and start from the first update. We'll soon be up to date on being here in Kiev, where we arrived last Thursday. We are now waiting to go to the Canadian Embassy tomorrow to pick up Mena's permanent visa, and we fly home on Sunday!

First Night in Hotel, Mukachevo

2010-11-14T06:26:00.001-05:00

Midnight

It is now just after midnight, officially Sat AM. There is so much to update- Mena & I are back in Kiev, in a new apt, to wait out the last week before flying home! OMG, I truly can't believe it!!

Mena's first night in the hotel with me was Tuesday night in Mukachevo. We did all the paperwork somehow that day and went to collect Mena from the orphanage for the last time at about 5pm. I really wanted to rip the bandaid off quick, so to speak, so the plan was to go in, change her clothes to the ones I packed, take a few last photos of the people who weren't there the day before and leave with as little fuss as possible. As soon as I walked to the door Mena was freaking out with smiles and a bounce in her step. She knew today was the day! The other kids were much more subdued than I was expecting, which was weird, but made it a lot easier, admittedly. Only one little girl was hysterical, crying and crying, "Marika don't go!" over & over. Natasha did her best to calm her down as we all left the room. It was us, Nadia, another lady who cared for Mena before too, the sweet orphanage doctor, and the director. We went into another little room that looked like a relaxing room for maybe breaks, and the blonde lady who cares for the babies was chattering to Mena, and was helping her undress. I kind of wanted to dress her myself, as symbolically she was my daughter now, but then I figured you know what? Big deal- I'll have the chance to dress her forever after this- I'm OK that this lady who will never see her again wants to do it one last time. So I just stood back and let her do it. Everyone was smiling and we took a few pictures, there was excitement in the air but also some sadness. By the very definition of success at doing their job perfectly, it meant loss in the end result for the people who looked after & cared for our daughter. Success because they had raised a beautiful little girl who was happy, chirpy, trusting & smart, so now she was prepared to leave them forever.

Finally it was time to say goodbye and we all began walking down the long, dim hallway. Nadia carried Mena, and at the end, handed her to me for the last time. All I could croak out was "Thank you, Nadia, thank you," over and over again while we both were crying. I hugged her so tightly, and kissed her cheeks, and she kissed Mena goodbye & then she had to leave, it was too hard. Last hugs & more soft tears from everyone, and then we opened the door and stepped out into the newly dark night sky and the rain.

I held Mena on my lap in the backseat as we drove to the hotel, captivated by my new daughter as I watched the streetlights flash gently into the car, illuminating her face like film slides as the rain splashed against the windows. She was looking out, taking in everything with no fear of traveling to doctors for more needles the way she was so terrified when we went to get passport photos done the previous week. We arrived and went into our room. She was fascinated by everything! The buttons on the TV! The remote control for the air conditioner! The biggest bed she had ever seen! The nightside table with a lamp! She scooted around checking all of it out as I watched, giggling. She jumped into the bed and pulled up the covers to her tiny nose and was laughing & smiling. I thought to myself, yippee, bedtime is going to be a piece of cake! (If I only knew what awaited...) The plan was to let her settle down, then go to the restaurant downstairs for some borsht, then bedtime. She was enthralled by the 2 budgies in the cage in the restaurant, and less a fan of the goldfish in the fountain that all scattered & bolted when our shadows loomed above them in the water. She ate really well, and I encouraged dip-dip bread into soup to fill her up even more. She drank some warm milk & was so happy. She had the waitresses utterly charmed, she was so cute!

We prepared for bedtime and she changed into her new pyjamas happily. But then realizing what comes after pyjamas, it all became real & scary for her and the meltdown started. She kept pointing at the door, and was saying the same thing over & over as she sobbed so heavily her entire little body shook. I walked around the room trying to calm her down in my arms, then I decided to go get Natasha. As luck would have it she was just coming up the stairs with a cup of tea when I opened our door, so she immediately came inside asking what was wrong; I explained. We all got into the bed and Natasha was a lifesaver. Honest to G-d, if she wasn't there, I don't know what I would have done. She whispered to Mena non-stop as she calmed down, and we lay in the now dark, the relief flooding through me was immeasurable. She said she was telling Mena a fairy tale, and poems- in between telling her she was OK. She said that when she was hysterical she kept repeating, "the children! The children!" like she had to sleep in her own little bed with all the other little kids in her group. Natasha said, "Don't cry, all the children are sleeping, you are the only little one still up!" which gently took her mind off things. Finally Mena became drowsy and it was safe for Natasha to leave, so she quietly closed the door. I asked Mena if she wanted to snuggle close to Mommy and she nodded yes, and scooted over while I cuddled her and smoothed her forehead (how my Mom always did for me- and how I loved that!) and she drifted off. Then she changed positions and put one tiny little trusting arm over my neck and fell asleep on her tummy, face down into the pillow.

How scary this first night must have been for her, I can't even imagine. The next morning she awoke all smiles and we prepared to leave for the main town an hour away where the passport office was located. Natasha thoughtfully went to the corner shop & came back with a couple of bananas & some yogurts for us while I packed up the suitcases and got us ready to go. Mena happily munched away at her breakfast, then it was bathtime. I had helped with this at the orphanage so I knew the routine: each kid sat down in the shower stall and was hosed down, shampooed, and then scooted out in a towel- a very cute military operation for a whole army of 4 year olds! I one-upped the tradition by putting a bath matt in the shower so she could sit on that as it trapped a bit of heat from the water, so I thought. Then it was time to strip down and hop in. This is where the next meltdown started.

I showed Mena everything was OK by getting in in my nightie, and spraying my feet with the showerhead, trying to encourage her to try it herself. Hot water was in short supply at the orphanage, so I was hoping that feeling the luxurious warm water would entice her in even more, but it was a no-go. Finally I had to resort to lifting her in as she cried. I tried to be as chirpy as possible, washing her hair gently, as she sobbed. Then I gave her the soap so she could wash herself, which she did through the tears. At last we were all done so I wrapped her in a warm towel and cuddled her, as we rocked together on the end of the bed and I whispered how proud I was of her, that she was OK, and that Mommy would be there forever to take care of her. The sobbing subsided, and I gave her a tiny glass of juice and we continued rocky-rocky-hush. Poor little mite.

We left the hotel on time and drove an hour to the passport office that literally was on the Slovakian border- if you looked over the hill in the parking lot you could see villages in the country. It was a good ride, through the beautiful countryside and the hour flew by. Until we were about 10 minutes away and poor Mena projectile vomited her breakfast up over everything. She had never been in a car that long, and clearly it was too much for her. Barf all down her new pink little coat, down her jeans, on her shoes, and all over my leg. We pulled over and tried to clean up, again, wonderful Vladimir, a dad himself to 2 sons in their late teens/early 20's, proved again the type of kindhearted soul he was- rather than freaking out over his bawdy car, his only concern was little Mena, and he helped handing me tissues and getting water out of his trunk. I had to completely change Mena at the side of the road and was so thankful for pinching the entire roll of toilet paper from our room when we left! I had nothing else in the way of clean jeans to change into myself, so I had to wipe off my leg and continue on in the car. Thank my stars it wasn't stinky! That was a complete miracle in itself, and a good thing too because just as we were practically pulling into the passport office, she threw up all over again, including the children's Gravol pill I had just given her. Sigh.

To make a long story short, the 2nd absolute miracle that took place that day was the fact that Natasha the magician, somehow she managed to get us Mena's passport in 2 HOURS, a feat that can take up to 2 WEEKS in some regions! I honestly don't know how she does it, but she is such an experienced expert, again & again all I can say is without her, I don't know what I would have done.

That meant that in the very afternoon we would be on the 17 hour train journey back to Kiev- zero waiting. We bought our tickets and left at 2:30pm. It was a rainy day, but before we boarded we stopped at a supermarket to get sandwich things & snacks & drinks for the train. It was Mena's first time in a supermarket and I would need another entire post to tell you how much fun it was to watch her take in more food than she could even get her mind around- especially the cookie section! She also hugged the deli meat counter. (And a spooky thing she did- we were looking at cookies when there was a lady in a leather coat with long auburn hair with her back towards us. I was carrying her, but she reached/pointed at the woman and said, "Mama?" so certainly that the other woman turned around. Remembering? Maybe so- we had seen a photocopy of her birth mother's passport photo, albeit upside-down on a desk and the hair did look similar. Mena was less than 1.5 years old though when she was placed in care and clearly this lady was too old to be a mother when she turned around. But it was interesting!)

Saying goodbye to Vladimir at the train brought more teary eyes- for all 3 of us. What a lovely man this guy was, and what a rock he was the entire time for us. Cheerful each & every day, nothing was ever a problem, he even went above & beyond & helped us go grocery shopping- helping us by speaking to people in the store when we would show him the Point-it book. He had very little English himself, so what a guy for stepping in to try & figure things out with us. And he knew money was becoming a serious problem, and in pure kindness we began to notice him "forgetting" to charge us for stuff like waiting the 2 hours at the orphanage etc. I hugged him so tightly as he wished us every happiness in our life with Mena, and every dream to come true for her future. I could barely speak I was so touched. We will never forget him or how good he was to us.

And so began the 17 hour ride to Kiev.

Document Day. Allllllllll Day.

2010-11-14T06:24:00.002-05:00

I'm writing from the car now & probably will be most of the day. It's 10am & we're in the process of getting Mena's new birth cert. Natasha has been up since the crack of dawn securing places in line & running around to the bank to pay for the documents. She has hopes of getting everything done today & being on tonights train back to Kiev! My role is chief breakfast-getter, cheerleader, & words of calm & appreciation. We've already hit a snag in the plans- a single letter in the court decree was spelled wrong in the date, so she had to go all the way back to court to get a new copy of the entire thing. Then back to the birth cert office where she was dying of embarrassment because we sailed by an entire roomful of grumpy people giving us major stink eye for bypassing the line. What they didn't know is that she was second on line since this morning. Then we got there only to find out that the court did not send a copy of the judgement of parental termination last year... So after a flurry of phone calls, back to the courthouse we went to get this document, & this is where we are now, Vladimir the ever-patient driver & myself waiting in the car. See, this is all the stuff you don't know about that happens behind the scenes, & it's part of the reason that the expense of adoption is what it is. Everybody works so hard & has to be so meticulous every step of the way- and something will invariably happen like this. Murphy's law & all that. I said it's the same in Canada- it depends mostly on the mood of the person behind the desk & if you happen to get somebody who is willing to overlook little mistakes or not. Though not having parental termination is basically impossible to overlook! LOL. So after we get this, its back to the birth cert office we go to barge past the line again. I said if Natasha felt bad that I would go first like the dopey tourist who doesn't know any better so people could mutter angrily about me, ha.

(Did I ever mention how much I'm going to miss Ukrainian radio stations? OMG, greatest music EVER! There is just a blend of really bizarre music from the early 80's that is unknown in North America- and I worked for a record store for years! Some of it seems to be Europop, some of it is English new wave that never made it across the pond, and the best is Ukrainian copycat versions of stuff like Pet Shop Boys... but the lyrics are pretty crazy & don't always make sense. Like chanting "Armani! Armani! Let's self-destruct! I've got a lover who will dance with me!" My fingers are sooo crossed that I can get Radio Carpathia at home on the Internet!) One of the best memories in fact was this time when Vladimir was taking Ois & myself to the orphanage & there was a Tina Turner marathon on, and we started singing in the car, so Vladimir turned the radio up louder and he was laughing at us. He thought we were bonkers, but he said, "Ah! The Tina Turner- good!" and we carried on the entire way. Such fun! I love Vladimir.

Jumping ahead to the end of the day, we got everything done eventually, although it took the entire day because after all the running around back & forth to the courthouse Natasha caught *another* mistake in the paperwork at the birth cert place- they spelled my last name wrong, and they had to retype it all again. And it took forever.

I'm going to break there, and tell about Mena's first night in the hotel next, as I'm now catching up on all of this 4 days later!

The Long Goodbye

2010-11-14T06:22:00.006-05:00

Yesterday morning Natasha arrived on the train, it was great to see her again! She has such energy, by 9am she had already been to court to pick up the decree, made an appt for the birth cert office for tomorrow, and scouted out the tax office also for tomorrow. She is just so unbelievably organized, I don't know how she does it. A real pro!

The only hitch in the plan was that the court made a mistake in the dates, miscounting the weekend, so the decree won't be ready to be picked up until tomorrow. In any case it gave us an extra day to prepare, so she suggested we do our goodbye party for the kids today so tomorrow isn't such an emotional overload, which was a genius idea. So we loaded up the car with the million pounds of grapes I bought, apple juice & 2 big bags of cookies for the kids. We also brought a cake for the ladies, then I had a special gift for Nadia, and the Director. I spent the morning making a card for Nadia & writing a heartfelt letter of gratitude for all she's done for Mena, which I gave to her privately & Natasha translated. She was surprised at the gift and gave me a giant bear hug & when Natasha read her the letter there were tears involved, so I think I did an OK job at telling her how blessed Mena was to have been raised by her and that we would never forget what an important person she has been in her life. I didn't know this but Nadia & Mena actually have the same birthday, so we will always think of her on that day, and I said we'd be sure to blow out a candle for her too.

The kids had a feast of grapes- when they saw the enormous bag, all their eyes were as wide as saucers! Indeed the lady at the market stall was pretty startled as I kept telling her to add more, more, more to the scale! I'm positive she thought I was either insane, or that I just confirmed every legend ever heard about the beast-like North American tourist who eats for pure recreation. In any case the kids were very, very excited! It was such fun watching them dig in & enjoy their treats- so many that they will have a 2 day grape feast! A few ladies came by to say goodbye to Mena, it was really amazing to me how connected everyone is to her- from caretakers in other groups, to assistants, to the cooks- everyone knew her name & gave hugs & kisses. I knew this was a pretty special orphanage, but watching every person want to properly say goodbye & wish her well really touched my heart. It is yet another testament to the passion & love for the children these amazing women have, and how hard the Director works to ensure that every child matters individually under her care.

Before we went in to Mena's group we met privately with the Director to give her the customary donation for the orphanage, and also just to sit and talk for a few minutes, and present her with the gift I bought for her- a pretty china set of espresso cups. She was very touched, and I also got the chance to tell her what a wonderful job she has done with the kids in her care, and how impressed we have been by every person we have come in contact with from her staff. I said that if Ukraine needed an example of a children's home that all others should be modeled upon, it is her facility. She graciously thanked me for the compliment and said she was so pleased to hear that about her staff. She was also very proud that the wife of the previous President of Ukraine had visited the orphanage herself 2 years ago and she showed me a special wooden tri-folding picture of some saints that she was given as a gift. I admired it and said it was very impressive that the First Lady had come to visit her personally. She asked if I had seen any other orphanages while here and I said we had, an unfortunately it was a very different experience, and left it at that. She understood.

I asked if it would be possible to have the dress Mena was wearing the day we met and she said yes of course. That was incredibly nice- I have heard of other parents asking and being told no, even when they brought something new to trade, which I also prepared. So now Mena will have this keepsake too which I am so happy about! She also smiled and asked if we really loved Mena. It was my turn to do pigeon hands as I began to get teary and I said she has become the light of our lives- and every time I think of her I feel like my heart will fly out of my chest. We all sat quietly for a moment, and I believe that the 3 of us were thinking about what a bright future our daughter has in front of her. Then a funny story was shared: When Nadia and some of the other ladies were around, they asked Mena what she thought of her new Mama. She deftly replied, "Well I love my Mama but I don't know always what she's talking about!" Classic Mena!

Really, the rest of the afternoon was spent playing with the kids (it seems 4 plastic Barbie cell phones were found which caused pandemonium- they all made noise to drive a person crazy, Natasha said Mena was pretending to talk to Daddy, telling him she was going to bring him a cake, LOL) and also asking some last minute questions about routines: bedtimes, favorite foods, naps, etc. I also spoke to the Director about one little boy who has captured my heart- with the moratorium on international adoption passed, the future is very uncertain, but there are summer programs where some children are selected to visit Canada to stay with a family for a few weeks, and I said that if this particular little boy could enter this program, we would be very interested in hosting him. He is just the loveliest kid- calm, even tempered, kind, bright, and he gets on well with Mena. I wish we could take him too. He is also 4, but he's more advanced than Mena in language, I think he's probably ready for kindergarten even right now. I absolutely adore him, it's going to be heartbreaking to leave him behind.

So tomorrow we will spend the day running around from court to notary to office to office, and perhaps also to the main town about an hour away to hand in the passport application. Natasha says that best case scenario, we may be able to leave for Kiev right away & that rather than picking up the passport in a few days when it is ready, that perhaps they will allow it to be sent on to Kiev via courier... which would be AMAZING as it would save a few hundred dollars of waiting here when we could be getting on with all the other stuff that has to happen in Kiev before we can fly home.

It is hard to believe, but our time here is really coming to an end. I actually feel a lump in my throat when I think about this, because this has been the greatest experience of my life so far. I have really come to love this country, and to get to experience my own culture and better understand where I come from has been so deeply powerful for me; as well as being united with our daughter. And to do all of this surrounded & supported by the people we have been so fortunate to meet who have been on our side every step of the way... I can't even tell you how lucky & blessed we have been. I go to bed thinking about that, and I wake up thinking about it too.

The Long Goodbye

2010-11-14T06:22:00.001-05:00

The Long Goodbye

Yesterday morning Natasha arrived on the train, it was great to see her again! She has such energy, by 9am she had already been to court to pick up the decree, made an appt for the birth cert office for tomorrow, and scouted out the tax office also for tomorrow. She is just so unbelievably organized, I don't know how she does it. A real pro!

The only hitch in the plan was that the court made a mistake in the dates, miscounting the weekend, so the decree won't be ready to be picked up until tomorrow. In any case it gave us an extra day to prepare, so she suggested we do our goodbye party for the kids today so tomorrow isn't such an emotional overload, which was a genius idea. So we loaded up the car with the million pounds of grapes I bought, apple juice & 2 big bags of cookies for the kids. We also brought a cake for the ladies, then I had a special gift for Nadia, and the Director. I spent the morning making a card for Nadia & writing a heartfelt letter of gratitude for all she's done for Mena, which I gave to her privately & Natasha translated. She was surprised at the gift and gave me a giant bear hug & when Natasha read her the letter there were tears involved, so I think I did an OK job at telling her how blessed Mena was to have been raised by her and that we would never forget what an important person she has been in her life. I didn't know this but Nadia & Mena actually have the same birthday, so we will always think of her on that day, and I said we'd be sure to blow out a candle for her too.

The kids had a feast of grapes- when they saw the enormous bag, all their eyes were as wide as saucers! Indeed the lady at the market stall was pretty startled as I kept telling her to add more, more, more to the scale! I'm positive she thought I was either insane, or that I just confirmed every legend ever heard about the beast-like North American tourist who eats for pure recreation. In any case the kids were very, very excited! It was such fun watching them dig in & enjoy their treats- so many that they will have a 2 day grape feast! A few ladies came by to say goodbye to Mena, it was really amazing to me how connected everyone is to her- from caretakers in other groups, to assistants, to the cooks- everyone knew her name & gave hugs & kisses. I knew this was a pretty special orphanage, but watching every person want to properly say goodbye & wish her well really touched my heart. It is yet another testament to the passion & love for the children these amazing women have, and how hard the Director works to ensure that every child matters individually under her care.

Before we went in to Mena's group we met privately with the Director to give her the customary donation for the orphanage, and also just to sit and talk for a few minutes, and present her with the gift I bought for her- a pretty china set of espresso cups. She was very touched, and I also got the chance to tell her what a wonderful job she has done with the kids in her care, and how impressed we have been by every person we have come in contact with from her staff. I said that if Ukraine needed an example of a children's home that all others should be modeled upon, it is her facility. She graciously thanked me for the compliment and said she was so pleased to hear that about her staff. She was also very proud that the wife of the previous President of Ukraine had visited the orphanage herself 2 years ago and she showed me a special wooden tri-folding picture of some saints that she was given as a gift. I admired it and said it was very impressive that the First Lady had come to visit her personally. She asked if I had seen any other orphanages while here and I said we had, an unfortunately it was a very different experience, and left it at that. She understood.

I asked if it would be possible to have the dress Mena was wearing the day we met and she said yes of course. That was incredibly nice- I have heard of other parents asking and being told no, even when they brought something new to trade, which I also prepared. So now Mena will have this keepsake too which I am so happy about! She also smiled and asked if we really loved Mena. It was my turn to do pigeon hands as I began to get teary and I said she has become the light of our lives- and every time I think of her I feel like my heart will fly out of my chest. We all sat quietly for a moment, and I believe that the 3 of us were thinking about what a bright future our daughter has in front of her. Then a funny story was shared: When Nadia and some of the other ladies were around, they asked Mena what she thought of her new Mama. She deftly replied, "Well I love my Mama but I don't know always what she's talking about!" Classic Mena!

Really, the rest of the afternoon was spent playing with the kids (it seems 4 plastic Barbie cell phones were found which caused pandemonium- they all made noise to drive a person crazy, Natasha said Mena was pretending to talk to Daddy, telling him she was going to bring him a cake, LOL) and also asking some last minute questions about routines: bedtimes, favorite foods, naps, etc. I also spoke to the Director about one little boy who has captured my heart- with the moratorium on international adoption passed, the future is very uncertain, but there are summer programs where some children are selected to visit Canada to stay with a family for a few weeks, and I said that if this particular little boy could enter this program, we would be very interested in hosting him. He is just the loveliest kid- calm, even tempered, kind, bright, and he gets on well with Mena. I wish we could take him too. He is also 4, but he's more advanced than Mena in language, I think he's probably ready for kindergarten even right now. I absolutely adore him, it's going to be heartbreaking to leave him behind.

So tomorrow we will spend the day running around from court to notary to office to office, and perhaps also to the main town about an hour away to hand in the passport application. Natasha says that best case scenario, we may be able to leave for Kiev right away & that rather than picking up the passport in a few days when it is ready, that perhaps they will allow it to be sent on to Kiev via courier... which would be AMAZING as it would save a few hundred dollars of waiting here when we could be getting on with all the other stuff that has to happen in Kiev before we can fly home.

It is hard to believe, but our time here is really coming to an end. I actually feel a lump in my throat when I think about this, because this has been the greatest experience of my life so far. I have really come to love this country, and to get to experience my own culture and better understand where I come from has been so deeply powerful for me; as well as being united with our daughter. And to do all of this surrounded & supported by the people we have been so fortunate to meet who have been on our side every step of the way... I can't even tell you how lucky & blessed we have been. I go to bed thinking about that, and I wake up thinking about it too.

Old Mother Hubbord

2010-11-07T07:16:00.000-05:00

With about 2 weeks left now, we are in the home stretch. It's been an experience of highs and lows, but absolutely many, many more highs thank G-d. We have really been so fortunate along the way. I know I keep repeating this like a parrot because it's true! It has been a happy and also a humbling experience, one that has changed our life more than for the obvious reason. And I'm so pleased that I've been able to share it all with you.

I intend to keep doing updates even when we get home, mainly because that's when the real parenting of an adopted child will come in, and my wish is that if I can provide some sort of information that would perhaps cause someone else to consider this way of expanding their own family by adoption, it will all be worth it.

If you have enjoyed this small slice into this crazy world, and you feel like you'd like to make a contribution towards our adoption journey, we have a Paypal account that has become a bit of a lifeline for us. And mortifyingly, after what will be 12 weeks here by the time we can finally go home, we are in need a bit of a miracle. How's that for humbling? Yikes.

thecosmicangel@hotmail.com

Day 10!

2010-11-07T06:41:00.000-05:00

Today is D-day! We've made it to day 10, which means that today by Ukrainian law we are now Mena's "real" parents forever. For those of you scratching your head out there wondering why it seems every so often I come out with, "today is officially blah blah, so now we're a family" only later to basically say the same thing again- well parental recognition in adoption comes in stages through law. When you get your court date & the judge declares the decree, that's 50% of it. Still things could go wrong even then though it's pretty rare, like some family member pops up out of the woodwork to say they contest the adoption which would mean a legal headache & battling it out in additional court appearances. But Day 10 is truly the real McCoy. After 10 days if nobody contests the adoption, then everything is over. Finished. Done! Legally today we now take over the role as parents from the state & nobody can do anything to stop it. On Tuesday we will be issued with a new birth cert that lists us as Mena's parents & the old one will be destroyed. (Tip for prospective parents out there: ask to make a scan or a photocopy of the old document, as you'll never see it again, and someday your child might be interested in seeing it. It does have info about original birth parents on it.)

In actuality I could demand to remove Mena from the orphanage today, but we're going to wait till tomorrow, just because the Director does not work on the weekend, and there are a couple of loose ends Natasha needs to tie up. Also I would rather wait till Natasha arrives tomorrow morning for her excellent translation skills. This will be a day I want to make sure I understand completely for all the things that will be happening.

The main caretaker for Mena's playgroup is a tall, blonde lady named Nadia. She is in her late 40's I think, and she wears Ysatis perfume- I wear that one too in the winter. That may be a powerful sensory memory for Mena later though, so I may give it a miss this year. In any case, through our mangled communication that mostly consists of mimed gestures, it has come to light that Nadia has taken care of Mena since the day she arrived as a baby of 1.5 years old. It has been Nadia who taught her to walk, to speak her first words, and who has been there to watch her grow. Yesterday I got Natasha to translate over the phone a special favor I asked from Nadia. I bought a card that was a congratulations one, and my plan was to ask Nadia if she would write Mena a little letter inside: maybe a cute story about when she was a baby, or a special wish for her in her new life and family. Because I will have no baby stories to tell Mena when she eventually asks later on, I think it is important to be able to provide some sort of connection for her to someone who was there for her at this time; to know she was special & loved all along, and not just "rejected". When she is able to understand this with a bit more sophistication, we'll be able to give her this letter as "proof". I hope it will provide some comfort- both for her but also for Nadia too, so she knows she will never be forgotten in Mena's life. She is the reason Mena is such a happy, carefree and loving kid today and not a frightened, deeply sad little girl who is unable to trust. I count it as a miracle that Mena was so fortunate to be under her care.

Anyhow, when I asked Nadia if she will be there on Momday, she said yes, but I don't think she knew why I was asking. I said, "Mena & Mama go bye-bye," and a look of surprise crossed her face just for a split second before she caught herself and regained composure. I don't think anybody told her, though she knew the day was obviously coming. She hugged Mena and made the gesture of tears on her own face, and said in Ukrainian what I pieced together as she wanted to know of she could take a photo of her & Mena because she wanted to put it in a big frame at home. I nodded yes, of course, and also gestured that in Canada, we would be sure to write her letters and send more photos as Mena got older. Monday is going to be very tough, emotionally for everybody. I have grown to really love all the kids- I've kissed skinned knees, dried hair after bathtime, helped put on coats, shoes & pyjamas, and have given a million hugs & kisses. Each of those kids are so deserving and so precious, all I can do is wish them every happiness for whatever lies ahead in the future. Until then it is a comfort that they are in a good place getting fed well and being looked after by people who genuinely like children, and who care for them. For some of them, living at the orphanage is even better than living at home where severe poverty is the issue: here they eat 3 meals a day plus snacks, have warm clothing and sleep in warm beds. For some, living in the orphanage is a luxury. It is a sad reality.

Today I am on a fruit buying quest! By walking to the orphanage all this week and eating sparingly, I have saved about $85 which I will be spending on piles of grapes like a Roman feast, and fruit juice, and bananas, and cookies! Plus a nice cake for the ladies and a gift for Nadia. I bought her a fine set of bone china tea cups & saucers packed in a beautiful round hatbox as a keepsake from Mena. We are going to go out with a bang! I will also write her a personal letter of thanks for the incredible start in life she has given our daughter.

And the one last thing that I did was buy a brand new dress for the orphanage. I am going to ask if they will accept it as a trade for the red dress Mena wore the first day we met. I would like her to have something to keep as a memory from her previous life. It's another thing she may be interested in when she gets older. Plus I am taking a little vial of earth from the orphanage, and a few flowers that I will press in a book. I hope I am not forgetting anything else I could do. I think we will absolutely come back and visit one day, but who knows if the orphanage will still be there, or in the same lovely condition as it is currently. Tomorrow is going to be both happy and sad, so I'm going to try to make it as happy as possible.

Tropical Paradiso

2010-11-06T07:42:00.002-04:00

One of bittersweet things about adopting a child past infancy is that you may grieve about all the stages of babyhood that you missed: first smile, first steps, first tooth. To be truthful about it though, I'm not that bothered. I like other people's babies, mainly because I'm not up all hours feeding them and changing their poopy diapers. I enjoy older kids more because they are more like small people. They have their own characters, ideas & opinions formed, and I like relating to who they are in these stages of childhood. The way I see it, Mena is still going to have a lot of firsts with us, because she's never lived in a family before. This is going to make for plenty of fun & hijinx!

Each time I visit I'm sure to bring a small treat for a snack. As I said before, the kids eat pretty good- they just lack fresh fruit & vegetables in a quantity that Canadians are used to, as they are pretty expensive by Ukrainian standards. Hell, many Canadian families don't eat enough either because they are expensive! In any case, I am having great fun watching Mena sample things for the first time. Probably the most exotic thing she has tried so far is pineapple. I bought one in the supermarket, and sliced it I to long sticks that she could hold, and I brought her 3 of them.

When I arrived she made a beeline to my bag of course to see what Ma had cooked up for today. I unwrapped the pineapple and gave her a spear. She took it in both hands and bit into it and got the shock of her life when she discovered how juicy and drippy it was! Juice was going down her front, her sleeves, all over her chin- it made such a mess! Of course Miss Tidy can't stand dirty hands, so she was looking everywhere for a Kleenex.I forgot to bring some so I told her to wait, and asked her if she wanted another which she waved away with her hand like I was Jeeves. Funny!

Yesterday was mandarin oranges. Same drippy experience ensued, this time we were both in stitches laughing and laughing. Then she tried jamming her hands into her coat pockets looking for kleenex- this kid is like an old lady always with the Kleenex, I swear! Again, neither of us had any, so she did the funniest thing: she made this face and shrugged- but she used her entire body to really capture the feeling of futility, and we both just looked at each other and began laughing again. There is something about her that's completely different to any child I have ever met; it's like she has such an old soul in her 4 year old body. Some of the mannerisms she has are really hysterical, and these are the moments I am going to remember forever rather than the "firsts" of babyhood that are missing. I think these ones are so much better, in any case.

And for any who disagree, I have 3 magic words for you: Already Toilet Trained.

Mena Leaves the Orphanage in 3 Days!

2010-11-04T13:12:00.000-04:00

Well these next few blog entries are going to be quite bait shorter as I have to type them on my iPhone, which is going to give me a hand like a lobster claw. Somebody should invent a Homer Simpson style dialing wand for this thing!

Mena & I had a cool visit today.we've been playing tea party with these 2 little teddies, Mishka (who is the naughty one) & Mousey, who is good. Mishka is very impatient & demands tea all the time & then he drinks Mousey's tea too, & he jams his entire head in the teapot & gets into all kinds of trouble. Then I have to wag my finger at him while Mena is falling around the place laughing. It's our new favorite game- good thing I have a tea party set waiting for her at home!

Anyhow, after tea party we drew pictures again. We do this almost every visit, she really likes to draw. Perfect, right? But today she did something really cool, she drew a picture of Daddy, Mommy & Mena. She was making these deliberate interlocking circles, and I was trying to see her rationale for what she was drawing. So I pointed to each shape and asked her to confirm who it was. Then she tapped my arm and picked up this floppy large bunny and brought him over. She cradled him & smoothed his face & kissed his nose, then she put him back. It was when I saw where she put him that the circle idea made total sense: a bigger bunny was cradling the smaller bunny! I said, "Mena! I get it! I get it! Daddy is cradling Mommy, and Mommy is cradling you!" and I made rocking motions with my arms. "is that right?" and she answered, "Tak!" (Yes in Ukrainian)

What a concept for her to think up. My heart melted into a puddle. Also for the first time today she called me Mama totally unprompted when she was trying to get my attention from across the room. Up till now, she has been responding to instructions like from other people- give Mama the book, etc. But today it was Ina completely different context, it was the mark of understanding our relationship as me caring for her. It was so cool! I can't stop smiling about it. When I told her that I was so happy about that, she did it again shortly after when she wanted to give me a toy to put away on a shelf that was too high for her to reach.

So milestones, milestones. For about the last week when I leave, she tries to get her jacket to come with me. Another good sign that she's getting pretty ready to go. We talk about this every day, that soon it will be time to say goodbye to the names of all the kids, and then Mommy & Mena will go on a big airplane and then we will see Daddy again & we'll be a family forever. The women atthe orphanage are incredible too. They are also trying to teach her some English words like hello & goodbye. They are also explaining to her in Ukrainian that Daddy went up in the sky in an airplane to Canada and soon she will too. Again, we are so incredibly lucky that Mena's orphanage is so nice, but especially so for the quality of the people who work there. They are so dedicated to the children, so warm, so loving- it is the very reason these children are so bright, caring, polite, and adjusted. I can say that any child waiting for a family there is in amazingly capable hands & it is a good place to be. The kids are happy, well fed, and receive lots of attention & affectionate care. The Director is clearly passionate about her job and the caretakers reflect that. All things considered Mena has had a pretty good start in life, thanks to all of them. We're going to take lots of pictures so when she grows up she can see the women who took care of her, and raised her so well.

Crazy Court Day… and the Final Coincidence

2010-11-03T09:38:00.001-04:00

It’s been impossible to post anything in the past few days because the internet has been up and down like a Jack-in-the-Box where we are staying. We were in Mukachevo yesterday for lunch, but I hadn’t written anything in time to upload. We are also literally going nuts with these colds- waking up at all hours of the night suffocating in your own snot doesn’t exactly make for ambitious mornings. I’m most worried about Mena though for flying home: a bunch of the kids in the orphanage are also sick, including her, and the main thing is that she doesn’t get an ear infection before we have to get on the plane. I did that once a few years ago as an adult when I went to visit my Mom in Vancouver and was flying home. I had no idea I even had an ear infection until we were in the air- and thank G-d I was sitting on my own in a row by the window- I wanted to howl I was in such intense pain, the tears were just pouring down my cheeks. It was like being tortured. There was no position you could move to to make it feel better, my knuckles were white clutching the chair arms, and it was a solid battering of breathless pain until we landed. (It’s only clicked just now that when my Dr did my medical for the adoption paperwork, he looked in my ear and said there was scarring, and did I ever have a lot of ear infections as a kid and I said no. I had completely forgotten the awful plane ride- but this must have been the result. Yikes!)

Anyhow, enough with medical mysteries. You came here to read about court, and I have to say it will be a day that will go down in adoption history, for certain! Well, it almost did for another reason than you think, but let me explain…

Our court appt was the 27th, a day after the Merry Unbirthday, as you know. We were so prepared for bringing the kids a fun party, but failing that we came back home with the cake, all the paper plates, packages of napkins, packages of little spoons, the candles, and the matches and a large cutting knife I borrowed from the kitchen downstairs- as I had no idea what the orphanage had and I just wanted to be self-service so nothing could make a balls of the day. We were bummed out, so we just had some supper and then stayed in our room watching more Ukrainian music video channels and then went to bed early so we’d be rested for the next day.

Vladimir arrived the next morning, and we all piled into the car. (I forgot to mention that Natasha came back to us from Kiev for the court appearance, so she was with us too. It was a sad day for her though, as the day before on the 14hr train ride, her mom called her to say that her Grandma had passed away and she was devastated. We told her if there was any way she could go home to do that- hell, after being here for 2 months now, honestly what difference would a few more days make for delaying court to when the judge could fit us in? Ha, we’re already living on tap water and Kraft Dinner when we get home, it’s not like we could be any more broke than we already are- this part I did not say out loud, obviously! She was dumbstruck that we suggested this. I just said if it was the other way around, it would be how I would wish someone would treat me. In the end she tried every train schedule and even looked into a plane, which by Ukrainian standards is an unimaginable luxury- but nothing would get her there in time for the funeral. So after speaking with her mom, she said that she would go home for the 9th and 40th days after for Mass to be with her family at that time instead. All of us were so sad about that. So we were pretty mindful about the fact that while we were celebrating the adoption of our daughter, Natasha was experiencing a loss at the same time. So we wanted a lower-key day to reflect that.) We drove to the courthouse, it was a bright, beautiful day that was cool but had the most perfectly blue sky against all the yellow leaves on the trees.

We entered the courthouse and were heading up the stairs when all of a sudden my high heel fell off like Cinderella on the staircase and clacked down. The noise made the security guard stop us, and he asked for us to come through the metal detector with our passports for inspection. He had a dopey security guard partner with him who was in charge of the metal detector while we presented our passports. Natasha went through first, then me, then Ois. The first guy wrote down all of our passport numbers then we were allowed to go back upstairs to the courtroom. Natasha was annoyed that we were even stopped in the first place, she thought he was just being a dick about it.

We sat upstairs in the long dim hallway (mint green) on some dark wooden benches and waited for our turn. People popped in and out of courtrooms and clacked down the hall in high heels. There was a big window at the end of the hall which was literally like the light at the end of the tunnel and I chuckled about that. It was like waiting for a doctor’s appt, but it felt much more serious and official. In whispers we wondered about other cases that might have been going on: murders? Epic robberies? Neighbors fighting over cattle? A judge in swirling black robes came out and went into another room and Natasha got up and followed him into his office, he was our judge. We sat there in silence and waited some more, then she came back out. I had the idea to have a picture of these last few moments before it all became official, so I began digging around in my purse for the iPhone- I used to laugh at ladies who had everything but the kitchen sink in their purses, like my Grandma who carried absolutely everything in there, and now I guess I’ve become one of them: Wet Ones, a map of Kiev, pens, Children’s Tylenol, a small Moleskine notebook, lipstick, Kleenex, business cards, ear phones, a juice box, an 11 inch stainless steel knife…

“OMG!” I yelped in a high-pitched whisper. Oisin and Natasha looked at me, alarmed. “What’s the matter?” Oisin hissed.

“I…. I…” I began as words failed me. I opened the bag and discreetly raised the knife handle up so they could see.

“WTF is that?” Oisin asked, and then the realization made him white as a sheet. “You can’t be serious!”

Natasha hadn’t seen what was going on, so I looked around to make sure nobody else was coming and I pulled the giant knife out of my purse to show her. Her mouth dropped open in surprise, then peels of silent laughter. She was crying and laughing and doubled up on the bench wiping her eyes as her entire body shook. Then we were all dying laughing, as quietly as we could be. When she could get a word out, she asked, coming up for air, “Why do you have big knife in purse?” And I tried to explain I had taken it yesterday with the matches so we could cut the cake if the orphanage didn’t have everything we needed- and I had forgotten to return it to the kitchen. With all the new-Mommy crap in my handbag it had gotten buried at the very bottom and I hadn’t seen it. Er, oops. Can you IMAGINE what would have happened if the metal detectors went off? I asked, incredulously. “But they did go off when you went through!” Oisin exclaimed. “The old guy just either didn’t care enough to stop you, or he didn’t see the red flashing light- but I sure did!”

Oh, court day could have turned out verrry differently. On the way home Natasha was telling Vladimir what had happened in Ukrainian, and he was laughing and I said “Vladimir! Instead of visiting Mena at orphanage, you take Oisin to visit me in jail!” He understands a bit of English so he got that, and then as all our laughs were dying down and the car was quiet, he blurted out, “Oisin home… you, Merry Christmas!” and we all started laughing again.

When it was our turn to finally go in, the procedure took about 45 minutes. Natasha did instant translation as the judge spoke, she really should look into UN work. First he explained our rights, then he reviewed our documents to say on record everything was correct for the 2 jurors present (one guy who was wearing a grey shiny suit and looked like an extra from Eastenders or a bouncer, the other was an older guy that looked like a grandfather) then we went through the people who were present who supported the adoption: a representative from the Dept Office, the Regional Inspector, a representative from the orphanage, the state prosecutor, plus us. Then we had to answer questions on why we wanted to adopt: why Ukraine, why Mena. I said we chose Ukraine because of my family background, which the judge perked up on hearing and he asked where our family came from. When I answered about why Mena, I said because we would give her a chance at a good education, we would always keep her Ukrainian roots alive (the grandfather was very impressed at this remark and made a “hummph!” sound in approval as he nodded his head) and that we already love her to bits. Then he asked a couple other questions: Did we have a house large enough for a child, did I have any secret medical diseases, and did I drink. When I answered no to the last question, the judge asked me if I was sure I was really Ukrainian- and everyone in court laughed. Then he did similar questions with Oisin. After 45 minutes, he said there would be a 20 minute recess and he would return with his decision. (And we STUPIDLY forgot to ask him to waive the 10 days- I am still kicking myself over this! Gah!) Everyone left but Natasha, Ois and myself. We sat and looked around the small room, made a couple more jokes about the kitchen knife, and listened to a billy goat outside baaaaa. Natasha said even the billy goat gave his approval and we all chuckled again. Then the judge came back with the 2 jurors, and read a 3 page statement which basically summarized everything that had just been stated out loud in court. The last page though was the official declaration of the decree. When he got to the part where he said my (full) name as the mother of Mena, and Oisin’s name as the father of Mena, I have to admit that the waterworks started. I just couldn’t help it. It was the end of just over 2.5 years of deciding to start our family and all the ups and miserable downs that went along with it, and all the waiting and the worrying, and the thinking back to the times when it looked like our file might completely be rejected, and the stress about could we afford to even do it and would we be approved by the bank for our loan, and what if we didn’t find her after all of this… it all melted away. Finally we would be the three little fishies! Forever and always.

When we got back to the house, I asked Vladimir to please come in so we could eat yesterday’s birthday cake as today’s court approval cake, with a chaser of some too-sweet Ukrainian champagne. (It is taking all the self control I have not to put the word champagne in quotation marks here, BTW.) So we all gathered in the kitchen, us, Natasha, Vladimir, and I also asked Anna and her DIL Sveta to join us. We toasted to a day of new beginnings and thanks to all the people who helped us reach this day, and then we ate some of the grossest cake I have ever tried, LOL. It was probably a blessing in disguise we didn’t feed it to the kids. The cake itself tasted like nothing, and the icing required a shot of insulin afterwards. We saved a couple of pieces for Anna’s two young daughters (9 and 12) and even they didn’t like it, LOL. Then Anna asked us to please have supper with them later that night to celebrate- which was so lovely. The other Italian couple (who require stories in their own right, which I will try to get to) were going back to Italy, so they made a giant BBQ for all of us. It was absolutely delicious- I’m telling you, Canadians have nothing on Ukrainians when it comes to BBQ. We had pork shishkabobs in the most amazing marinade, and chicken wings, and a cabbage salad, and grilled potatoes with bacon on top, and pickled red peppers and 2 types of fresh bread, and Italian antipasti mushrooms, and other things I am forgetting. There was wine and a beautiful apple type cheesecake dessert that the Italian lady made, and we brought down a box of fancy chocolates that I bought in case of something like this happening and we’d be caught with nothing to contribute, and it was just an epic feast! It made me really miss travelling- being somewhere where everyone tries to communicate in their own language and there are hand signals and a lot of laughing as some people understand and others get it totally arseways… such fun. And once again, for the life of me I don’t know how 2 people could be any luckier than we are with meeting exactly the right people at exactly the right time who are so kind and generous and helpful to us. It was a fantastic end to a fantastic day.

A Very Merry Unbirthday to You!

2010-10-27T13:22:00.003-04:00

Well we had our day in court today, and it’s great news- Mena is officially our daughter, now. The proceedings went well, we were granted the benefit of only having to appear once as opposed to twice, before being allowed to begin on things like birth cert & passports- plus then another 10 days. Thank heavens! But before I get into all that happened at court this morning, I’ll begin actually on Sunday’s visit instead, because it is a Mena story I will remember forever.

We came to visit like normal, and the poor thing was really under the weather with a cold. But she looked so cute with her cheeks all pink and flushed, and her soft golden curls all framing her face. The other kids were playing outside so we just had an inside visit and played quietly. Luckily I had popped some children’s Tylenol in my bag before we left home, just in case, so I was able to pull them out and ask if we could give her one. The doctor had to go check out what was in them and then returned and said yes, so we did and in about a half and hour she was back to her perky old self. And then at about 4:45 like clockwork, she had to go to the bathroom. Now, I’m probably not going to ever share another bathroom story again because in terms of dignity I don’t know if I’d want the whole world to know about me on the can, but this one is kinda different so I’ll take the heat when she gets older for doing it. She said she had to go, so I took her down into the elf bathroom off her playroom, it has 3 mini sinks at shin level, and 3 normal sized toilets all in a row along another wall. No doors or separators, so bathroom time can be supervised. So she climbs up to the john, and I sit on the seat on the one in the middle, waiting for her and holding the crepe paper-newsprint toilet paper. It’s just us, and we’re a funny duo in there. So I look over and say to her, “Little dude! This is a milestone moment for us. I’ve never wiped anybody’s bum before- and certainly not a poopy one. This is going to be a real bonding experience, it’s the first time ever I’m wiping your butt!” And she just kind of looked up, and speaking perfectly normal right back at me as if we were 2 adults having coffee tawk, she answered back very seriously with her big blue eyes fixed on mine. Then when she finished the important stuff she was saying, she gave a cheeky half-smile to indicate her speech was done. It was really funny and so cute. Then she wiped her own butt once, and I wiped it again to be sure, and she pulled up her gitch and flushed, walked to the sink and washed her hands like we two colleagues in the bathroom at the same time who happened to catch each other and continued talking. Priceless! I love my kid. She is such a character!

Now for yesterday, her birthday: We arrived as normal, with a white, pink and yellow cake in the shape of a teddy bear that we got from the grocery store. It was like a miracle it was even there in the first place- like a beacon of light in the bakery case calling us. It looked a little weird in that home-made type of way, so I was thrilled! It was $10, so we bought it and some paper plates, small spoons, colourful napkins, and a log of strawberry ice cream which is how the sell it here. (BTW this is such a smart idea to do it this way, as you eat it it takes up less space in your freezer! Hello?! They sell it chilled but not totally frozen and it’s wrapped up in a plastic type of sausage casing like those Pillsbury cookies. Leak proof! Ingenious!) We had all the stuff covered in a plastic bag so nobody could see what we were bringing in to the orphanage to avoid being pounced on by a bunch of 4 year olds. Oisin had another bag full of crayons for all the kids, plus some butterfly deelie-boppers and a magic wand for Mena, the beautiful stuffed rabbit which was her main present, and then a little sparkly necklace I bought last year in Boston with my friend Emily when we went to the Osh Gosh outlet… which had another damn konig on it, ha! We walked into the playroom and supervising were 2 ladies- the nicest one who has dark hair an pretty brown eyes and is so lovely and involved with all the kids; like a perfect kindergarten teacher. And the other one is one of the ones we call the old Battle Axe. Perennially grumpy, bossy, old-fashioned bingo-lady. So we say that we brought cake and ice cream for all the kids for Mena’s birthday, and the ol’ bitch gets all in a flap and says she must check with the doctor and that she doesn’t think we can serve it to them. Natasha’s eyes flicker just almost imperceptibly because she’s as disgusted as we are, and she flaps out of the room and down the dark hallway to have a medical conference on birthday cake. A few minutes later we can hear her hooves clicking back down the hall towards us and she comes in and says it will be impossible to give the children any birthday cake, as who knows where it has come from or what ingredients it may contain… like we might want to poison our own child. I say to Natasha, jeez, we have the grocery store label off the bloody box, but we know it’s no use. Well we weren’t going to leave it all there for the witch to carry off on her broomstick later to serve to her own family, so Oisin said he was taking it back to the car. When he came back, we just handed out all the crayons to the kids, and presented Mena the birthday girl with her deelie-boppers and magic wand as the other kids clapped and freaked out. Then we gave her the necklace & bracelet with the unicorn which she liked, but she didn’t want anything around her neck, so she just admired it instead. And then excitedly, I slowly pulled the bunny out from behind my back and presented it to her. It’s a really beautiful stuffed animal- part of the World Wildlife collection that a portion goes to the fund for endangered animals- very life-like and beautifully proportioned but soft and cuddly. She took one look at it and drew back horrified. She was scared of it! So we both were all, “No no! Bunny is cuuuuute! Bunny is niiiiiiiiiice!” and wiggled him like he was going to give her a kiss on the cheek except she smacked him a million times to get the hell away from her!

So we really fell down the rabbit hole for this Merry Unbirthday, just like the song in Alice in Wonderland. It sort of was the 4th birthday that wasn’t. Oh dear. I think we’re going to have another proper party when we come home this time with cake and balloons and real party stuff. Natasha was so sweet, she bought her a little drawing board with the magnetic dust inside that you draw with a magnet pen and then swoosh the thing from side to side to erase it. That was a huge hit with Mena, thank g-d. At least the kid got one present she liked, LOL!

The rest of the kids drew pictures on paper that (get this!) the old Battle Axe CUT IN HALF so they didn’t even have a full sheet to themselves because I guess it’s still Soviet times where we have to ration ourselves to half a picture when we can see a stack of paper on her desk in the corner. The kids were so pleased to have their own boxes of crayons! That was really fun to watch them all drawing, and we scootched around on the miniature chairs giving everybody a thumbs up on their beautiful artwork. And then we hear, “Marishka!” barked out loud, and some urgent sounding orders from the crayon Gestapo, and she goes over and forces Mena to use her right hand instead of her left one. I thought Oisin was going to belt her one. But he’s so restrained and cool and good in situations like this; he just quietly sat down beside Mena blocking the ol’ Bitch’s viewpoint and gave Mena back her crayon in her left hand.
They wanted to wind the kids down after all the excitement, so the 3 of us moved into the little room off the playroom so we could visit and play together on our own. Mena loves our iPhones and each time we pull one out to take a picture she is fascinated by all the things they do. So I wanted to show her that they could play music and show pictures at the same time and I put on a Robbie Williams video as all of us cuddled on the couch. I couldn’t resist this next part- Oisin gets so annoyed when I joke that Robbie is my “free pass” and that one day if he looks over and sees all my clothes are gone from the closet, it’s because I’ve run off with him, LOL. While the video is playing and he’s looking so fine, I say to Mena, “See? This is your *other* Daddy! It’s Robbie!” and Oisin’s face was so hysterical- his lips were a tight, white line and his eyes stared straight ahead in dead shock and sI nearly died from trying to hold in my laughter and I knew he wanted to swat me on the arm so, so bad, but couldn’t because You Can’t Hit Mommy. LOLOLOL! Oh, if I could have that moment back, I so would just for a photograph, I’ve known him for 13 years and I’ve never seen him make that face in my life. Hilarious!
I have a good story about court, but I’ll save it for tomorrow’s post instead. In any case, everything went perfectly and we’re on the home stretch now, peeps. I should be home in 3 weeks (as it turns out we can’t proceed any further with passports and the birth cert until the 10 days go by) if nothing else gets delayed. So we’ll keep you all posted on a date of a proper homecoming party most likely in December which we’ll do instead of our traditional “Hannamas” booze-up that we do at our place every year. Cake and ice cream guaranteed!
(And here’s a link to an Oliver Stone length home movie of Mena and the other kids just fooling around with crayons etc. Nothing really happens in it, it’s probably only interesting to the grandparents or die-hard family members. Don’t feel guilty if you can’t watch more than 30 seconds of it.)
***The internet connection keeps crashing- check back for the video link later. I can’t upload it to YouTube in time between the crashes. I’m ready to scream!***

Soon, Grasshopper!

2010-10-25T13:25:00.001-04:00

Court in two days!

Mena’s birthday tomorrow!

It just occurred to me this morning that for the rest of our lives, Mena’s birthday will sort of be a 2-day affair: we’ll always be celebrating our family’s “Gotcha Day!” on the 27th and her birthday on the 26th. That’s kind of neat. Double celebrations are sort of par for the course in our family- my own birthday and my Dad’s are two days in a row, and Father’s Day and my sister’s birthday have always been clumped together too. Why stop now!

The only thing I am kind of bummed about is that I won’t be able to ask Mena what kind of cake she wants this year, so I can bake it. My Mom always did this for our birthdays, and truth be told, even as a little kid, this choice was even more exciting than the presents- imagine! Somebody is asking you what *you* want like a grown up, and poof! It appears exactly how you wanted it! I don’t mean just cake flavours either, it was an entirely decorated edible universe. I remember the “baby cake” best- it was a year when a particular little collection of plastic funny baby figurines was so popular at school; the name of the toy escapes me now, but they smelled softly of baby powder and they were all doing funny things like sucking on a big toe, doing a handstand, lying down with a cute little bum up in the air. My Mom made an entire cake that had a bunch of the babies all doing funny things all over it, and she went to either a toy store or a cake decorating supply shop and got little baby shower accessories like miniature bottles the size of a fingernail and teeny plastic teddy bears and used them also on the cake to round out the tableaux. It was such a hit, all my friends were so excited to have a piece and it was agreed that I had the Coolest Mom Ever. LOL! I knew this would be a tradition I would repeat with my own kids, so having to go to a bakery to buy a store-bought cake is a bit of a let down. I was thinking I could try to find some little plastic “konig” (horse) toys to stick into the icing, but I haven’t seen any the right size here, and it’s almost impossible to shop for anything anyways, with the jumble sale effect in shops as previously mentioned. Mena seems to have that ingrained thing about ponies where she wants to brush their hair, and she finds them fascinating. Again like with the lipstick, I don’t know where this comes from- it’s not like they have lots of little pony dolls at the orphanage, and ditto for beauty routines that could be spied on with the adult ladies. And no TV commercials or cereal boxes for outside influences either. It’s weird. But cute. Ha, the other thing is I think I’m already turning into Geek Mom in like, the record-breaking span of less than 2 weeks- she’s already getting sick of me blabbing on about konigs and it looks like “I’ve been told”. Once we glommed on to this identifiable word, we point them out all excited whenever we see them; if there is a picture of a princess and a konig in her colouring book, then Mom’s Excited Voice comes out and, “We should colour the picture! Oooooh Mena, should we colour this one? Hey? Should we colour the pretty konig? Mena? Yes? Yipppppeeee for the pretty konig! Lookie-look-look!” Etc.

The last time we visited, I was about to reach for the tiny konig on the shelf like I always do with Excited Voice, and glancing at me with both a sense of pity and slight disdain like I was a simpleton she had the misfortune in being shackled to for the endless responsibility to entertain- she wordlessly waved her hand at it in disgust, (like a miniature John Cleeves a la Basil Fawlty no less!) as if she just couldn’t take any more of my village-idiot blathering on about a stupid plastic horse. Ouch.

Yesterday Ois was feeling like crap so he stayed back while I went to visit Mena on my own. Neither of us can seem to shake this cold we’ve caught. It seems like just when the sinuses are finally empty, we catch some new mutant variant of it again and almost instantly, we’re back coughing again and full of snot. I think it’s the orphanage kids who are doing it to us. Somebody always seems to have a sniffly nose in there and with all the hugging we’re doing and what-not, it’s no wonder we can’t get rid of it. So I did the usual routine: collect Mena from her playgroup, go upstairs to the big blue toy room, sit down on the couch and take off my jacket as she does her excited little dance around my purse on the floor because she knows I have goodies inside, then I scoop her up onto my lap like a baby for the feeding of treats which is what all the attachment books say to do. Treats involving anything to do with sucking are best, FYI, because the primitive brain makes the immediate connective link with eating/sucking with the comfort of a parent. So juice boxes are good, sucking lollipops, anything like that. We’ve been doing those tiny kid-type yogurt drinks followed by a cookie. Then when the snack is done, it’s Mena-directed playtime: whatever she wants to play with from the shelves we do. Usually it’s drawing pictures or a page in a colouring book, followed by the game Ois invented of “hide-the-pachenka” (cookie) where she plops down a bunch of tiny, plastic doll furniture and he shoves bits of cookie in any of the parts that open like the little drawers or in the tiny fridge, or the baby bed, and then Mena finds them and eats them. Then we might play with the lipstick and mirror and all of that- until she says she’d like to play outside if her other little friends are out there. So this is what we did yesterday.

I had brought my iPhone as usual, and because Mena loves to dance, I put it on and we danced a bit to Amy Winehouse. Any mistake I may have made with the konig was forgiven by the addition of having the magic powers of making music play out of nowhere (or my pocket) and my Mom Coolness was restored, thank G-d. So we went outside and I was like fresh blood in the water to a bunch of orphanage sharks who all encircled me within 15 seconds wanting to know where the music was coming from. The other caretaker ladies were laughing at this helpless spectacle in front of them- kids stuck to my various limbs like Ukrainian velcro. Then I got the idea of making everyone hold hands in a circle with me, and we all swayed and danced on the sidewalk declaring defiantly that they tried to make us go to rehab but we said no, no, no! More kids came to see what was going on and I added their little hands and our circle got bigger and bigger, then I showed them how to twist low to the ground, then come back up again while the ladies shouted “Americano dancing!” and the kids copied me in peals of laughter. It was the most fun so far I’ve had at the orphanage, and I wish I could have videotaped it- all the little smiling faces and shining eyes and pink cheeks out in the chilly October afternoon with the almost neon yellow leaves from the chestnut trees crunching under our feet as we all danced. Another memory forever.

Here are some of my buddies:

I don’t want to give out any identifying information on the kids, so no names. The one thing they all have in common though is that no matter how deeply sad some of them are in their eyes, (especially Miss Leopard Hat, who is smiling here for the first nanosecond in the weeks we’ve seen her) the moment they know somebody is going to take their picture it’s like an exciting permanent record in time for proof that they are here, they exist, and they matter.

It’s really not just a photograph of something going on that they want to carelessly record for the fun of clowning around with friends and being a little star in the spotlight for a few brief seconds. It’s not a birthday party, or goofing around in the yard, or opening a pile of presents that will be looked back upon years later in a photo album when childhood is long gone. They know they’ll never see these pictures again, much less printed out to be looked at over and over. Maybe that makes it more of a kick in the stomach that you can clearly see that there’s something much more serious going on in their minds and it visibly transforms their faces as they come into focus through the viewfinder: “I am here. I am really here. You can see me. Nobody can forget.”

So I stand behind the camera with my throat buzzing like it’s full of bees and I’m grateful that nobody can see my quickly blurring single eye and I hold my breath and I have faith… and then I just press “click”.

Almost 8 Weeks

2010-10-23T06:27:00.001-04:00

So this Sunday/Monday will make it 8 weeks that we’ve been in Ukraine. Holy Moses, it feels like forever and also it feels like in some ways it’s flown by. The countdown is now on to come home- court is next Weds 27th, Mena’s 4th birthday is Tues 26th. Oisin will be sticking with the original return date on his ticket, which will be home on Nov 1st. The plan is for me to have power of attorney for the last couple of weeks here to finish all the loose ends while he returns home on paternity leave, and then Mena & I will fly home on our own when everything is done.

This rural farmhousey-thing…. achh, I dunno that it’s working out so good. I hate to be a complainer, but I think by the time we leave, I am going to be well ready to be in my own house and in my own bed. Last night we moved into a room upstairs, because the lady said it was “super super!” rather than remain in the only room on the main floor that was huge. I have no idea why she thought upstairs was super- we’re right beside an older Italian couple and I don’t know who the hell is snoring in there, but they may as well been in bed with us for all the sleep we both got. We assumed it was the man, but who knows- the way that lady talks with such a deep gravelly voice, it could have been her for all we know. And the bed! I cracked one eye open this morning and said to Oisin that is was like sleeping in a shoebox lined with newspaper for a dead pet. Dudes, the charm is sooo beginning to wear thin. So here’s a little list of stuff I am sick off, and will not miss when we’re back in Canada:

1. I’m sick of what are essentially crepe paper birthday streamers made of newsprint masquerading as toilet paper. You think I’m being funny, but I’m telling you that’s exactly what the “economy” version of toilet paper is here. Exactly that wide, exactly that thin. Damn, I’ve seen better packing paper from Chinese factories when they send over samples of goods for review before export. A wet hand every time, folks.

2. No more toothpaste in “interesting” flavours like chamomile or chili pepper. I’ll stick with the Crest, pls thx.

3. No more tea in restaurants that tastes like it’s been stored in a mildewy basement for 10 years before it ends up in your cup. Hot basement juice, anyone?

4. No more weird stores where everything looks like a flea market/jumble sale. It’s sensory overload- when I look for something, I can’t focus on a bunch of random stuff all piled together on a table- it’s easier on the eyes and brain when like things are clumped together. Marketing 101! Put all the boots together. Put all the pillows together. Put all the geometry sets together. Don’t show me blenders and erasers and a calendar with kittens on it and eyeliners and hubcaps and mittens and sets of screwdrivers! Jesus, it’s like Canadian Tire was under a natural gas reserve and exploded as far as the eye can see! How do you know where to go to buy anything specific? And better yet, how on earth would you ever instruct a MAN to go to the store to get something? You’d say goodbye at 9am and you’d be lucky if he returned 12 hours later! Wait a minute. Maybe this is the master plan to get all the husbands out of the collective hair. On second thought, they could be on to something, here…

5. No more sending blood in DRINKING THERMOSES on TRAINS in the lap of the CONDUCTOR for 14 HOURS like he’s driving with a SLURPEE between his legs after having to buy the glass vial and needle YOURSELF. That may just win the All-Time Weird Award. No, forget it. It DOES win the All-Time Weird Award. Period!

6. I will not miss the generic gamey beef & onion filling that shows up like a lingering pervert in a raincoat at virtually every meal somehow. Remember the Simpson’s episode where they show the octopus-like conveyer belts all coming out from a big single vat of bubbling crap in the basement under the food court to all the mall restaurants? Yes? Like that.

7. No more fucking Nescafe.

8. No more fucking Nescafe.

9. Did I mention no more fucking Nescafe?

10. Kopec and Grivna confusion. This is a good country for rappers who like to flash around piles of cash. You can literally sleep on a mattress completely stuffed with money, and if you exchanged it all, you’d probably come out with about $4.00. Canadians can no longer complain about having their pockets stuffed with change- come to Ukraine and start having to count out 1/80th of a penny for shits and giggles when you are at a shop! On the upside, we’ll have a lot more tokens the next time we decide to play poker!

Movin’ in Mukachevo

2010-10-22T06:26:00.001-04:00

We’ve been offline because we have moved… again. We’ve left the hotel in Mukachevo, and now we are about 25mins outside the city limits in a rural area in the Carpathian Mountains- there’s a name here, but I’ll be damned if I know what it is.

We moved mainly because- well, actually, I’m not sure. We went to see this place because Vladimir our driver knew about it, it’s actually within walking distance of another orphanage and it’s in a very pretty place. It’s the same price as the hotel, was but it has a washing machine which is the main draw. It also has a kitchen in the basement, so we can cook our own meals, though eating in restaurants is cheaper sometimes if you know where to go.

Funny enough, the only Ukrainian adoption blog I have read pretty faithfully was from a North Carolina couple who adopted a little girl named Pavlina. When we arrived here at the house, the owner showed us a guestbook where people had written a bit about themselves and their experiences in the area, and lo and behold we are staying in exactly the same place as the other family from the blog! Out of all the places in the entire country- here we are. I liked their blog because they also had double cats and had a similar sense of humour as Ois & I, and were on the same roller coaster adoption ride. I’ll have to give a link later in this post so if you want to read about their experiences, you can.

The main problem with being here is the lack of internet- when we originally came to check out the place, we were told it worked, but not for the certain type of 3G network we have. There is a guy coming in 3 days or so to sort it all out though, so hopefully it will be up and running. In any case, we’re now in a very large rural home, one half of it the family lives in, the other half is intended for guests. It is beautiful being out in this area- the trees are all aflame in colour, and truthfully, it looks a lot like Vermont with the rolling hills and greenery and pretty houses dotting the mountains. So we’ll have to hopefully upload blog entries and check Facebook in town if we can get to an internet café after visiting Mena. Vladimir-the-sweetheart (as he’ll now be known) has made a deal with us for $20 a day to drive us the 30mins into town, he waits at the orphanage while we visit Mena for a couple of hours, and then he drives us the 30mins back again. Sometimes we’ll go twice a day, other times once- for the same rate. As I keep saying, I don’t know how we managed to have horseshoes up both of our arses for meeting such lovely, good-hearted people who somehow save our hides like this everywhere we go, but we do.

Anyhow, Mena stories: Today was raining and there was lightening in the grey skies as we arrived at the orphanage. Each day we’ve made the same routine- we arrive at about 4pm, and we enter Mena’s playgroup/classroom where all the little kids are, and they freak out en masse. Everybody wants a hug and a cuddle- one little boy and girl in particular. The little boy looks like he is Roma (Gypsy) and his back is very stiff, and he is very delayed. He definitely has a major disability of some sort yet he is just a ray of sunshine and I love him to bits! He is always giggling and smiling, and when I pick him up for hugs and kisses and cuddles, he arches his back and grins and laughs at the ceiling. You can feel his entire body melt into you with affection and pure happiness, his dark eyes sparkling. He is just the sweetest little guy! Another little girl with sandy hair and brown eyes is the same way- she is such a pretty little girl, full of energy and joy, and she is aching to be picked up and cuddled. The interesting thing is Mena’s reaction in all of this; Ois is worried that the other little ones will think we are adopting them too, but I know this isn’t the case. The caretakers explain to the kids what is going on, and which child has the Mama & Papa. Mena doesn’t get upset or envious, and she doesn’t want to jump into our arms to prevent someone else getting cuddles. She is a very astute and bright little girl, and though she is attaching to us for certain, she is not threatened when we hug or cuddle her little friends. She seems to understand we will be her “forever” Mommy & Daddy, so it’s OK to give attention to the other children too. It’s so hard to switch off your emotions to the other children, and just focus on leaving with your daughter when it’s time for us to head back to our hotel. It is just so unfair that those other children are stuck there without permanent families and when I’m looking at the ceiling at night, I don’t know whether I want to cry or scream. They are ALL gorgeous. They ALL deserve to be wanted and loved forever. And there are so many people in this world who could provide a loving family to them- but they are prevented either by personal finances or government bureaucracy, or getting time off work- or any other thing or a combination of all of them. And even though the road to international adoption is full of bumps and potholes and hairpin turns, I have to admit I’m already thinking about what it would be like to do it again.

We’re in the basement kitchen as I’m writing this, there is another older couple from Italy who has just come downstairs and are preparing their supper. They’ve put out placemats and have polished their cutlery (dollar store, people- dollar store!) and have put out paper towel napkins and a bottle of wine. I can’t help but think that they think we are Americano animals, having eaten our roast pork chunks with potatoes and onions and cabbage rolls pretty much in thoughtful silence- straight off the old Corningware plates and plastic table cloth, no placemats in sight- and having bits of cut meat fly off the slippery plates and into laps, and mashing fresh peppercorns primitively against a plate with the back of a spoon- ha! Oh well, whatcha gonna do, eh? I love the creativity that comes into play when there is a language barrier. I think it makes the world and people so interesting, and it’s almost the part about travelling that I love best. Anna, the lady who owns the house with her husband, had to call a neighbor next door who speaks English to tell us that we can move to an upstairs bedroom as planned this evening. And this morning I would have been lost without my little “Point It!” book which made it possible to communicate with Sveta, Anna’s 12-ish year old daughter that we needed towels. I will also give a link to the book at the end of this post: we’ve used it whenever we’ve been someplace where you just can’t communicate or figure out how to say something like, “I want a room please with a sitting-down toilet, and please no goats for supper.” It is the greatest picture dictionary for travelling ever- with over 1300 items clumped together intelligently to help grease the wheels of international sign language. It’s a God-send.

With that being said, it’s time to lug all our stuff up to our new bedroom. It’s 8:15pm and we are like senior citizens with nothing to do. We’d go for a walk but it’s raining and it’s pitch black in the country. So I guess it will be more Ukrainian MTV and books downloaded onto the iPhones until we go to sleep. Tomorrow we’re going to visit Mena twice: once in the morning and then in the afternoon. It’s her 4th birthday on Oct 26th, so I’m going to find out if it will be permitted to bring a cake for all the kids to share- I have the million boxes of crayons I bought for 25 cents each at Target before we left, so all the kids will get a present too. And I am hoping that I will be able to find some party hats and some balloons someplace in Mukachevo so we can really mark the occasion in style. We want to make it a fun afternoon for everyone- and have all the kids feel excited and loved and important, even if it’s only for one afternoon.

Point-It: The best picture dictionary for travellers, ever!http://www.amazon.com/Point-Travellers-Language-Dieter-Graf/dp/3980313026

Leslie, Crawford & Pavlina’s Ukrainian Adoption Blog: http://leslieandcrawford.blogspot.com/2010_09_01_archive.html

Update #2

2010-10-19T06:24:00.001-04:00

It’s 1pm Kiev time, and Natasha has just told us we have our court date! It’s Oct 27th, one day after Mena’s 4th birthday. This is such good news- we were bracing ourselves for the thought of being here for another month, having to sleep in a cardboard box under a bridge somewhere!

So here’s how it goes: Court in 8 days. Then after the decree is made (and please G-d, it goes in our favour) we have to wait 10 days for it to go into effect. If 10 days go by and nobody contests the adoption (family doesn’t magically turn up out of the woodwork) then Mena will officially be our daughter forever!

Now we are at 18 days. Then we go back to Kiev with Mena, and tie up all the loose ends there with Ukrainian & Canadian Embassy paperwork and passports, the interview with the Canadian immigration officials, another medical I believe, and then we buy her a plane ticket and we fly home for good. It will all be over and the only thing to do from that point will be normal family life. Yippee!

So tentatively speaking, we are looking at being home around Sat Nov 13th if all goes to plan, and I’m not missing any Ukrainian holidays where stuff is shut, we don’t have any last minute hitches, etc. Pray for us! And hopefully we’ll see you all soon!

A Cold, A Lounge Singer and a Bit of Pork Fat

2010-10-19T05:28:00.001-04:00

Day 4 of my cold and it’s still a misery. I’m hoping that by this afternoon and drinking some more of that fakey-lemon medicine you put in hot water I’ll be good enough to go visit Mena. I’ve missed her like crazy, and all the pictures Ois takes and the phone call she made yesterday to me isn’t as good as a real visit. It was adorable yesterday afternoon- when Natasha was talking on her cell phone, Mena kept asking, “Mama? Mama?” so Natasha got the idea to call me sick in bed so Mena and I could talk to each other. It was kind of like a parallel conversation between two senior citizens though, as neither of us knew what the other one was saying, so we were just babbling away one-sided, taking turns.

I’ve got no new kid stuff to report, so I’ll tell you about where we are staying instead. I think we are in the “fancy” hotel in the town, which is $25 CNDN a night. It’s nice enough, though very basic. It’s spotlessly clean and the lady downstairs that runs the place loves us, so that’s good. The restaurant is absolutely excellent. Seriously, the food in Mukachevo is miles ahead of Kiev; everything is local and when you order a salad stuff is literally just pulled out of the ground for it, so you can imagine how fresh and delicious it all is. We’ve both eaten so many latkes by now, I can’t even tell you. I’m surprised we don’t need to make more holes in our belts. Ukrainians are just about as BBQ-crazy as Canadians. Last night we ate in the little restaurant and we had shishkabobs grilled over a wood fire that were so delicious, we’ll be thinking about them forever. I’d been wanting to try Salo, which is the beloved national dish here, but nobody else has wanted to try it with me so far- however Natasha loves it, so we ordered some last night finally! It’s basically very thin slices of pure pork fat served with raw garlic cloves. You eat it on black bread with a bit of salt & pepper, slicing the garlic clove up so you get a bite of it with each bite of the bread and salo. Everybody has their way of doing it, and they have a salo festival where people bring all different kinds, like a beer festival. Some brine it with spices, some bake it in the oven, there is a million ways to do it, but it all amounts to thin slices of fat on bread in the end. It also depends of course on what you feed the pig while it’s alive- beets apparently add sweetness, etc etc. In any case, it arrived, white, quivery, translucent almost. The bread was fabulous- tangy and grainy with the genius addition of coriander seeds sprinkled on the crust which added almost a floral touch to the flavour. It wasn’t unlike putting butter on bread, in the sense of the richness of fat spread onto something baked; far less weird than it sounds. It tasted and had a mouthfeel like butter too, creamy, cool, rich, and it had a soft flavour of it’s own- it wasn’t tasteless. With the bracing bite of garlic added in, it was really good in fact. Natasha said it wasn’t the best version she’s ever tried, so when we go back to Kiev she wants to bring me some from the place she buys it for herself- she says it’s the best in her opinion in the entire country and she could live on it.

Everybody in the world here seems to know I’m sick, and I have complete strangers asking about the state of my health as if I have the bubonic plague, and not a simple cold. Everybody has advice for me: drink this, eat that. Stay away from Russian medicines, they’re not as good as Ukrainian brands. Go to my pharmacist- not the one he told you, his pharmacist is an idiot and he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Put this goo inside your nose, put this cream on your chest, drink this herbal tea at 2 o’clock if it’s raining and you dreamed of pink llamas the night before. All of a sudden I have 50 honourary Babas all fussing and wanting to take care of me, it would nearly be easier just to roll over and die so you could get a little peace and quiet!

I’ll tell you what I’d like to do though- I’d really like to have a hot bath. We have a peculiar little bathroom here, it’s very, er- compact. When you sit on the john, your chin is precisely level with the sink that clearly was intended for the 7 dwarfs. It’s about the size of a dinner plate, and the piping goes straight down so you can see all the treasure people have lost down there- most notable is a toothbrush, perfectly vertical. It’s kind of like those novelty beer glasses that have an eyeball in the bottom, so when you finish your drink there it is staring back at you. Each time I lean over to brush my teeth it’s there looking back at me. The shower is also a source of amusement. I was on the can the other day thinking about what the difference is that makes us accept something or get annoyed with it- where that line in the sand stands and why. I was looking at the two random pipes that protrude up out of the shower floor like a duo of turtle heads, and I was thinking about that if any builders would have did that in my bathroom, I would have freaked out. Yet if you saw the same thing in an outdoor shower at a public beach, you probably wouldn’t care less. Why is that? It’s equally as bad, right? Anyhow, that’s like a lot of stuff here- odd little things that seem to be perfectly acceptable, but leave you scratching your head. The showerhead is the same story. Remember that Seinfeld episode where Elaine & Kramer have flat hair because of the low-flow showerhead? That’s me. We have precisely about 3 minutes of lukewarm water that progressively gets colder and colder until you can’t stand it and you have to jump out. I’m pretty sure I have about a week’s worth of conditioner build-up in my hair by now; the water pressure is like a dehydrated 80 year old man with a prostate blockage piddling on your head. None of this is worth even mentioning to the lady that runs the hotel though- I mean, what’s the point? It’s not like she can magically do anything. So there is no point in whining about it. We’re just happy to have some hot water in the first place.

The funniest thing by a mile though is the nightly “entertainment” in the fancy hotel restaurant. They have 2 here: the restaurant with all the taxidermy animals and the indoor fish pond where the poor goldfish swim through a bunch of dirty coins and the pair of budgies that probably have lung cancer from second-hand smoke (this is the “casual” restaurant) and then the other one with the insane curtains layered over the windows like it’s Buckingham Palace and each place setting has 3 or 4 wine glasses that are all instantly removed as soon as you sit down as if they all have little holes in the bottom and are only for show. The elaborate centerpieces from the dollar store are tall enough that you have to crane your head around to see your fellow diners at the same table- it’s like a Ukrainian Liberace manages the place from beyond the grave! At night, they make the waiters get up behind a 1980’s Casio electric keyboard and sing Scorpions cover songs for your dining pleasure- OMG it’s a hoot! On Friday though I think they got their special singer in to kick off the weekend. He was about 6’4” in a white jacket, burgundy shirt and black pants; stocky as if he pushes an ox-cart by day, and he looked like he had a raccoon on his head. He was just given’ er as he belted out a broken English version of Lady In Red as he sang higher and higher until the sound cut out into feedback. It was magic! Like a cabaret act from Phoenix Nights! All we were missing at that point was Johnny Vegas drinking beer from a flower vase in his wheelchair! Natasha, Oisin and I were nearly crying with laughter. We should have been paying *him*.

Anyhow, it’s time to brave the will-I-or-won’t-I have-hot-water shower, and then we’ll wander into the town center for a cup of coffee before we leave to go visit Mena. Oh, and more good news: her bloodwork came back from Kiev, and she is negative for any scary stuff like HepC and HIV, etc. We weren’t really worried about it, but it’s still good to have that confirmation. We didn’t get a court date yesterday, so hopefully it will come today. Then our plan is to move just outside the city limits to a house-share in a rural area. We went to see it the other day and it was really nice. The main attraction is that it has a washing machine. If we don’t get there soon, we’ll have to start turning the underwear inside-out, LOL. Actually, Vladimir our driver is such a sweetheart, he told us to bag up our clothes last night and he drove down from his house with his wife to pick them up- she is insisting she wash them for us to help us out and refuses to take a penny- which we will not hear of. The lady at the hotel here told Natasha that she would do them, but she would charge $2.00 USD per item! Natasha started laughing at that and told her she was out of her mind. Vladimir feels so bad for us, that he is also “forgetting” to charge us for some taxi rides and for times he has to wait for us- like when Natasha needs to run in someplace to get a signature on a document and it takes 30 minutes. I just can’t tell you how nice people are, and how much they go out of their way to help. It feels like I’m in Winnipeg again. For all the ups & downs we’ve had while we’ve been here, none of it has ever had anything to do with people-things. It’s all been bureaucracy type stuff. Out of all the places I have ever travelled in my life, I have to say Ukraine has been the warmest, nicest, and kindest in terms of people.

A Week Ago, Today…

2010-10-17T10:08:00.001-04:00

… we were thinking about our 3rd appt, and praying it would go well the next day. What a difference a week can make! Here we are, in a truly beautiful town, with beautiful fall weather, and we have our beautiful daughter. Amazing.

I have gone and caught myself a cold, though. I don’t even remember the last time I was sick but here I am stuffed up with a sore throat and tonsils the size of golf balls. I haven’t been able to visit Mena in 2 days now, which is the only thing that I look forward to as if it’s my birthday every day. I’m scared she’s going to forget me- or worse- think I’m like the other people who just disappeared. Ois has gone to see her though and today we had the brainstorm to record a little video on the iPhone so I could wave hello and blow her kisses. She loves the iPhone, I fear we’re going to have a gadget girl in the house on top of Oisin; she totally understands that when you tap a button on screen something happens, and when she looks at pictures she doesn’t just randomly smack the screen but she understands if you swoosh one direction you see say, photos of the cats at home and when you swoosh the other direction it’s photos of her and us. And she really freaks out when you switch around the camera so you can take a picture of yourself like a mirror. This is the greatest thing ever!

Yesterday when Ois visited, all the kids were playing outside because it was nice out. They were eating walnuts and a lady came with a big pail of cookies, so they all lined up and were able to each eat a few. Big excitement. There are a few older children (5-9) in the orphanage, although we’ve never seen them until now. Ois saw a few little girls and they know exactly why he is there, and they know that Mena will be going home to live with us. It’s a pretty sad thing for the kids that understand. Natasha was there with Oisin, and she told him about a conversation she overheard one of the little ones having with Mena. A little girl asked her how she was so lucky that she got to pick a Daddy, and Mena replied, “I didn’t choose my Daddy. He chose me.”

To be chosen and wanted by somebody. It would break your heart.

I wish that the idiots who make up these laws that keep these kids in limbo between the national system and the international one would just get out of their offices, and put a train ticket on their expense accounts and come and see for themselves what their political ideology really means for the children in state care. The human cost for their national pride is unnecessary human misery- so many people want to adopt these children, yet they are prevented at every turn by the Ukrainian government and the inbred corruption within the system that is supposed to protect their children.

I also am beginning to wish that we would have done a homestudy for 2 kids, now. It wouldn’t have cost practically anything more aside from photocopied documents and a bit extra for double medical stuff- and if you are going to be home with one kid, a second one wouldn’t be a gigantic life change in as much as going from no children to having one child. The kids at Mena’s orphanage are all so sweet, to think that over 90% of them will end up on the streets after age 16 and then into prostitution, the drug trade, or dead as a suicide before 20 makes me have to shut my brain off, or I’d be a useless mess the entire time I’m here. I’ve never felt so lucky, yet so unhappy all at the same time.

Anyhow, tomorrow Natasha will find out who will be our judge at our court hearing, and she may even be told a date. Mukachevo apparently is the first town in all of Ukraine to try a new computer system where you are given a judge for your case- before you could talk to somebody and request a judge that was available ASAP so you could get the first available opening. So Natasha says she has no idea when our date could be- it could be in 2 weeks, it could be in a month., or even longer. (Please G-d, let it be less than 2 weeks… anytime this week would be great, actually.) The only thing we *do* know is that Oisin can’t get any paternity leave money until we have a court decree for the adoption, and that is a financial crisis for us. We both have to be in court. But right after he will be flying home to go back to work while I stay here until the judgment comes into effect, and then to do all the legal documentation to tie it all up, plus passports, new birth certificate, etc etc. So it will be me and Mena on our own in Kiev once again. I’m excited at the thought of waking up in my own house, being able to make my own coffee in my pyjamas in my own kitchen, have 10 baths a day if I want to with all the hot water I want, and not to be at somebody’s beck and call for my own kid. Today, that is my idea of heaven.

Second Mena Day

2010-10-16T03:09:00.001-04:00

Yesterday I left off at the fact that we needed to do bloodwork for Mena. This is along one, so grab a coffee.

The previous couple had Mena/Marika examined by a doctor who worked with the Canadian embassy, and also paid for a psychologist to come and do a profile on her. Although Xenia wasn’t really meant to talk about either of these things, she did, and we were so grateful. She even got their contact details so we were able to discuss what the doctor found out over the phone; which was that she was healthy as could be though very small for her age as most kids in orphanages are, and she had the typical minor speech delays that you would also expect with children in state care.

Now when people hear the terminology “delays” they are apt to get very worried especially if you don’t get the context of what it all means. What it *doesn’t* mean is a child who is a drooling mess who can’t make their mouths form sounds, etc. Nor does it mean any kind of mental or physical handicap. All it does mean is that looked at age for age, a child in an orphanage will be a bit behind a typical kid who has had one-on-one attention from birth from a parent. So instead of a kid who is age four according to a calendar with all the skills of a typical four year old, perhaps the child is more developmentally similar to a child who is three with all the skills of a three year old. We all know that kids do things to their own timeline anyways- some kids walk at one, other kids don’t walk till closer to two but at one perhaps they talk more instead. It is really no big deal and nothing to afraid of when you adopt because it only makes sense given the situation. They say to figure on a one month delay to every three months a child has spent in an orphanage as a basic guideline. And then when they join a family and get that care and deep attention from parents and siblings, they catch up very quickly with the immersion into a “normal” home.

Mena is already shockingly bright- we know that, and it’s not just new parent pride. She is able to express lots of her own ideas and thought and opinions, and she does it in a very detailed and unusual way. She talks non-stop and she notices everything in her world, to our delight. In the span of a grand total of 2 day’s worth of visits (about 8 hours or so) she completely stunned us by already learning a few English words and concepts. Yesterday afternoon was a great visit after the stupid blood test, they were short on orphanage staff so we were able to take her outside and play with her supervised only now and then from a window. So without any Ukrainian interference, her first proper word was spoken and learned: “Up!”

They have some super tall grape vines in the yard, and we were playing under them. She was dying to get at the grapes yesterday because she wanted to eat them- big, fat, purple concord grapes. Who wouldn’t? Oisin kept lifting her up and she would squeal and kill herself laughing as she tried to reach for them. Without really intending on making it a lesson so to speak, each time we’d lift her in the air we’d yell “up!” and then we’d put her back down on her feet again. In practically zero time, she figured out exactly what “up” meant and she began to ask to be lifted in the air. So we made a happy fuss with tons of cuddles and kisses and her little blue eyes were just shining with elation. It was so, so cool. This is actually my favourite picture of her so far out of all the ones we’ve taken:

After playing outside for a couple of hours, we went in. The rest of her playgroup was in their room with one of the caretakers… who was watching her “stories” on TV while all the other little kids sat in silent, perfectly behaved boredom on the rug in front of her. When we came in, all the little eyes were on us and lots of smiles- the day before in the afternoon just before we left Ois was making funny faces at the kids where you take your fingers and put your hands upsidedown against your face to make a little mask and they were freaking out with laughter as he pretended to jump to begin chasing them. Clearly, this was the greatest thing in the natural world ever, some Irish guy making goblin noises like he was about to eat them all alive. One of the little boys actually had figured out how to do it, so when we came into the room he was so excited to show us! The soap opera caretaker left the room and of course all happy hell broke loose as it should- lots of giggling and jumping around. It was great!

I forgot to mention something so happy and sad and kind of profound though, when we first came back in the afternoon to collect Mena after the morning’s hospital stuff. As mentioned, yesterday she really wanted grapes, but the ones out side on the vine were not really suitable for eating anymore, so we asked Natasha to tell her that we promised to bring her some grapes the next day. So when we came into the room yesterday, I had a big bag full of them in my purse. Just seeing that we actually came back made Mena’s face light up like a million watt bulb and she came running to us for cuddles. We asked if we could give her some grapes and the lady said yes, so then we asked if we could give all the kids grapes (they seem to be a bit funny with the food in the orphanage, like they are constantly worried about mass diarrhea or something) so now she couldn’t say no. I washed them and put them on a dish, and here is the part that utterly broke my heart. Even though there were about a dozen little 3-4 year olds who see fruit as a treat like very Christmas and birthday rolled up into one, all of the kids shared so peacefully and kindly- there was not a single push or a shove, nor were any grapes stuffed into mouths quickly so more could be eaten. Their faces were just so radiant with pure, pure happiness and they were all so careful that each other all had some to enjoy, and they were eaten one by one and savoured like they were jewels. All the things we spoiled North Americans just take for granted- that if your grapes go bad in the fridge because you decided maybe you didn’t want them all after you bought them, or your kids could care less about fruit and would secretly toss it out at school so they wouldn’t have to eat it (I can remember kids in my class doing this in grade six in Mrs. Rebeck’s class, till she found out and then put an empty fruit bowl on her desk so whoever didn’t want their fruit could leave it in case another child was hungry and could take it instead). And then it was just watching the kids have such beautiful manners as they cared for each other to make sure every person around the table could share the bliss equally of having some fresh grapes. That sight will stay with me forever. They were like little fish in a feeding frenzy and soon the little branch was naked and picked clean and only happy faces remained.

But now about this morning and the blood test. We arrived at the orphanage at 8:25 sharp to pick up Mena and the Assistant Director who would accompany us to the hospital. But before I get to that, first some plain weirdness. The day before we were asked if we wanted to have the test done in Mukachevo, or Kiev. Mukachevo would be free, but we’d wait for results for at anywhere between 10-18 days, and because all of the equipment was older, the test could be less precise. Kiev would do it and have results back to us in 2 days, but it would cost $100 USD. Xenia was phoned and asked what she thought, and she replied she would rather have it sent to Kiev, so that is what we chose to do. But wait- listen to how it had to get done. So, because this is a small town and it’s not exactly like you can just FedEx stuff around willy-nilly, Natasha actually had to run around looking for a THERMOS because we had to buy our own medical equipment (a vial, a needle!) and then after having the blood drawn she had to put it in a thermos, wrap it in a plastic bag and run to the train station where she gave it to a train conductor so he could hand it off to Xenia or a staff member there who would take it to the blood clinic! Like, BLOOD samples, a potential BIOHAZARD, in a drinking thermos, sat in a seat beside a train conductor for 14 hours like his first mate, all the way to Kiev. We didn’t even know what to say to all of that, so we just said nothing.

When we entered the orphanage to pick up Mena she was already dressed and waiting and as soon as I came through the door her face just lit up and she came running to me with her arms held up for a hug and I flew towards her and scooped her up and covered her in kisses. The ladies said she was so excited that she was beside herself waiting before we got there. I fell in love all over again. We drove to the hospital with her on my lap looking happily out the window at everything. She had only been in a car a few times in her life so it was pretty exciting for her. Then we got to the hospital and went in. Ugh. It was a dark, basementy-smelling place where more than half the lights were off so they could save on electricity. The floors were all dreary grey linoleum, the walls were a drab peanut colour, and the very few chairs were vomiting up bits of crumbling yellow foam from their cracked vinyl seats. We waited upstairs for 15 minutes, Natasha carrying the weird empty thermos, then we were told to go downstairs. We waited aimlessly downstairs in a hallway stuffed with abandoned office furniture from the 1950’s stacked up in every which direction in the semi-darkness. Natasha was clearly embarrassed. Then we were told to go upstairs again. Then somebody barked at Natasha to go buy a glass vial for the blood sample, and a needle and a giant package of cotton so we could tear off about 2cm worth to cover the needle mark under the bandage for Mena’s arm. Incredible.

Finally we were shooed into the “laboratory” that looked like a cross between a Soviet dentist’s office, the place where a mad scientist would be stitching up random body parts to construct a personal Frankenstein, and a military field hospital. Army green metal machines the size of double Betamax's with random clocks and buttons dotted the room, some sort of sample swirling machine that looked like a replacement part from Chernobyl was in the corner, and long pincers and giant tweezers and clamps and little cardboard boxes with test tubes and what not were positioned on shelves. I don’t know why on earth we had to bring our own glass vial when clearly they had piles of them sitting there- but whatever. Ois was ordered to sit in a barber’s chair by the window with Mena on his lap, and I stood beside him, ready to distract with a little stuffed animal. I was just getting the happy-excited-energetic voice thing warmed up when out of nowhere some big fat battle-axe of a woman clamped a thing on Mena’s arm and stabbed her with a needle the size of a shishkabob skewer. She took about as much care as she was immunizing a farm animal, and was about only half as gentle. Mena screamed and thrashed like she had been betrayed and my heart was in my throat and Oisin was as white as a sheet as he hid her eyes so she couldn’t see the needle in her arm or the blood. It was horrific. Fucking medieval and barbaric and so lacking compassion for a child it was all I could do not to grab the woman by her throat and shake the living daylights out of her- to do that to a dog would have been inhumane- never mind a 3 year old terrified child.

We were both absolutely FURIOUS when it was over, and vowed that would be the beginning, middle and end of medical treatments in Ukraine. From now on, the only doctor that kid is going to see will be one in Canada. I don’t see the point of putting her through any of that for test results that we will only repeat anyways when we get back home, because even with the best intentions, everybody feels most relieved with having medical care of their home country, more so if it happens to be a first-world one.

Then to compound our anger, in the car I asked if we could stop immediately and get Mena something to eat or drink before travelling back to the orphanage. The kid had nothing since supper the night before, and was so hungry she had tears in her eyes. The Assistant Director told us firmly that it would not be possible as the children had to stick to a routine. A routine? Please! Like being stabbed and bled dry in a dirty hospital was in any way a “routine”? All we could do was hold her hand on the drive back in the car while Mena looked out the window silently, avoiding eye contact with either of us. I wanted to cry I was so upset and angry.

Luckily she forgave us by the time we returned after lunch and her naptime, and then we did the grapes and went outside. Once we came back in after all the “up” stuff and the monkey bars we still had an hour left, so we were told we could go back upstairs to the big playroom and continue playing unsupervised. So we did wooden puzzles of animals, and as Mena got each piece correct we kissed and praised her and made such a fuss, she was so proud and delighted with herself. Then she was trying to point to something up on the top shelf- there were a handful of very nice brand new toys in their packages, and clearly there was something up there that she had been aching to get her little mitts on probably for months, so as a final middle finger raised to the day and being bossed around by the director who wouldn’t let her have any food in the car, I lifted her up and let her grab what she wanted. We opened the package of little girlie things- a tiny plastic lipstick, a little plastic hairbrush and hairdryer, a plastic mirror and barrettes and hair curlers- that type of thing. She thought she had died and gone to heaven and began giving Daddy a “special” hairdo unicorn-style, and somehow she knew exactly what to do with the lipstick and put some on all of us, including her teeny stuffed piggy.

It was so cute! The perfect way to end the day. When we said it was time for bye-bye, without any protest or fuss she put all the little toys back into their package, and we stuck it back up on the shelf so it looked unopened. Take that! Mena two, vs. orphanage, one! Game, set and match.

Tally of new English words learned: Up, leaf, eat, lipstick, piggy, chase! (Amazing, hey?)

Meeting Mena

2010-10-15T15:00:00.001-04:00

As promised, here is the story of our first day meeting Mena.

It really couldn’t have been more different than visiting the region after our second appt- nevermind a different part of the country, it was a completely different galaxy. On Thursday we arrived in Mukachevo at about 6am and we were picked up by the guy who would be our driver during our stay in the region; a very nice man named Vladimir. He took us to the hotel Natasha booked, and we were ushered into our room by the lady who owned the hotel, messy be-head and all! There we crashed for about an hour and a half, as we had to be at the office of the Regional Inspector for 9am, so it was just enough time to change and freshen up, unlike Edward who literally got us off the train, into a car for 4 hours, and then to meet the inspector and we barely had enough time to brush our teeth- lovely. Natasha as a woman understands the concept of being at your best when making a first impression.

The office of the Regional Inspector was in the town center- a grand 100yr old building that she was obviously very proud of, and she gave us a tour after our meeting with her. We oohed and ahhed over how lovely it was- the hall where the town meetings are held, the pretty courtyard with dozens and dozens of marigold and rosebushes and cobblestones. I think she really loved us. She was a lady in her mid-50’s with poufy blond hair and crystal blue eyes, and she was a good soul, you could instantly tell. We had heard that another Canadian couple had previously visited Mena, began paperwork to adopt her, and then after 3 days of visiting with her left out of the blue without even saying goodbye. Mena was apparently devastated. Even at 3 years old she understood what was going on, and the Inspector was very protective of her. In her office we had a chance to ask about everything in her file- her history, her bio-parents, her siblings (all 14 of them!). The Inspector said to Natasha how impressed she was with us- unlike the other couple who was very clinical and cold, she was taken aback over the fact that we were asking questions with the intention that we would be able to tell her these details when she grew up. I explained that I was trying to put myself in her shoes when gathering information, so I would ask the things I would want to know if I was adopted. We asked if she wanted to see photos of our home and family, and she was so delighted we had taken the time to prepare this, that she called in her secretary to bring us coffee and then she broke out a special box of chocolates from a desk drawer and opened them just for us. It was a really, really nice thing to do and we told her so.

Then it was time to go to the orphanage. As we pulled up, again, it was a night and day difference to the other place: the building was perfectly painted, and piles of flowers lined the walkways. Outside, there was play equipment and fruit trees.

We went inside and the good smell of lunch floated through the air. We climbed the stairs and could hear the sounds of a bunch of little kids singing to a piano and an accordion, one of the orphanage staff said the kids were all rehearsing for a special autumn concert at the end of the month. We had to walk through the room and they were all so adorable, singing and doing a little dance routine as all the little pairs of eyes followed us. We were escorted into a large sunny playroom full of toys, painted bright blue and the Assistant Director met all of us. We sat down on the couches and it was explained to us that after the last disastrous visit with the other Canadians, that they would not be bringing in Marika (Maria is Mena’s official name but they call her a pet name instead) to meet us, but we would be brought back out to the rehearsal and would watch as the kids performed and the Assistant Director would walk over and gesture towards Mena so we knew which child she was. As it turned out, she didn’t really need to do so- because somehow Mena knew exactly what was going on and as the Assistant Director patted her little head, her eyes were literally like laser beams burning through myself and Oisin. She locked eyes and wouldn’t take them off of us! It was so strange that Oisin and I stared at each other and Natasha said, “Oh my G-d, this is so weird! It’s like she knows!” It was really, really freaky. I’ll never forget that look as long as I live; just fixed and so intense!

We tapped our feet and clapped as the kids did their songs, then we were led back into the playroom and were asked if we wanted to meet her. Of course we said yes, and a minute later Marika was brought in holding the hand of a caretaker. She was just so relaxed and sweet and friendly- full of smiles and chatty. We gave her the beanie-baby kitten we brought and she was just beside herself she was so thrilled. We played with some of the stuffed animals, and we made the kitten come to life and she watched utterly captivated. The Inspector was such a wonderful woman who was really into her job and completely devoted to “her” children, she chattered away to Marika and proudly showed us that she was bright as a little button under the care of her orphanage. She knew her body parts and colours, animals and the sounds they made and she could count. She was just so lovely and playful and we were so grateful to have Natasha there to translate because as it turned out, this kid is *such* a character! She had all the women completely in stitches with what she was saying- we asked what her favourite foods were and she point blank looked at us and declared very dryly, “Well. I *don’t* like meat.” Then when it was time to go, she sighed and said, “Bye-bye. You know I have things to do.” We were absolutely dying laughing.

It was time to leave as the kids were about to have lunch, so we left and were able to come back later in the afternoon to visit. It was a gorgeous day so we got to take her outside to play. She toddled around, showing us the monkey bars and the play equipment as we followed her around. I could see some of the stuff they say in all the adoption books in effect though, which was interesting. Marika was extremely hyper-vigilant, noticing so many things that were even on the outer scope of the horizon that other kids would definitely not notice. But she took it in stride and kept us so entertained. Natasha could barely keep a straight face with some of the stuff she was babbling about, she told us between gasps for air that she sounded like an old woman sometimes! At one point she noticed one of the caretakers looking out the window at us, so Marika waved at her and smiled. The lady waved back. Marika waved again. The lady waved back again. Finally Marika exclaimed loudly, “That woman! I’ve already waved at her! Now go away!” Natasha was just dying laughing.

We had a great visit, but it was time to leave at 6pm. So she gave both Ois and myself kisses and actually called us Mama and Papa as she waved goodbye. We rode back in the car kind of flabbergasted at how things went, and when Natasha asked how we wanted to proceed, we said that we wanted to start the paperwork on the conditions that the blood tests would be clear- this probably sounds completely insane to anyone who hasn’t lived through this international adoption experience- deciding on a lifetime commitment on the drop of a hat, but all I can tell you is that this is pretty much how it is done, especially in the situation with the magic “special files” that appear tailor made to you. We were granted a child who is healthy and was everything we ever wished for in our greatest hopes and dreams. There is no need to wonder about anything more.

Later before bed, admittedly, we did have an hour of pure panic though. Somehow it all seemed too good to be true. So we looked our gift horse in the mouth and spent about an hour googling all the terrible health conditions and rare disorders we could find that we could possibly link to Mena: OMG, was her pinky finger too small? Was her top lip too thin? Maybe she had a rare genetic disorder! We were like a pair of idiots, and then we tired ourselves out and just went to bed. We had to be up at 7am because the following morning we were going to collect blood to do a blood test to be a million percent sure she didn’t test positive for any scary diseases. And that is where I will leave it for tonight: Because this morning was absolutely hell on wheels- and if you ever hear me complain again about the state of hospitals in Quebec, I give you full permission to hit me. Hard.

The Third Time’s a Charm!

2010-10-14T15:45:00.001-04:00

Well here’s the news you’ve all been waiting for- and no one more than us. While you peeps were eating your Thanksgiving turkey on Monday, we were being thankful for something very special too…. we are thrilled to report that it’s now officially a girl! This afternoon we’ve started the adoption proceedings on our little Mena. Sorry we kept this one under the table, everybody- but it went like this:

Last Thursday we found out that our 3rd appt would be Monday Oct 11th sometime in the afternoon. At this point, we were feeling so pessimistic about things, that we decided not to say a word to anyone until we had the appt, and knew if we would be booking flights home that evening. We just didn’t think we could take anymore messages of good luck and “think positive” etc, even though we know it’s all true and came with the happiest wishes. It’s just that when you live on a rollercoaster for so long, you don’t think you can stomach another up or down and it’s easier to retreat to lick your wounds for awhile.

Anyhow, Monday arrived after a weekend spent with the 2 other couples here in Kiev, having a pity party and fearing the worst. But it also felt pretty peaceful too, because whatever happened was going to happen- and the end was in sight. No more living in limbo. The chips were completely down. We arrived at the Dept office and waited in the hallway, while Xenia was like a cat on a hot tin roof- scooting in and out, speaking to a well dressed young man, going outside with him, coming back in. Finally it was our turn to go into the psychologist’s office, and Xenia whispered directions to follow Natasha’s lead. We sat down for the last time on the small beige couch and looked at all the binders on the bookshelf, wondering what was going to happen. I could see our dossier on Masha’s desk, while she & Natasha chattered away. Cell phones rang and were answered. Masha kept leaving the room and then coming back while we sat there, not quite sure about what was going on, though we knew something major was definitely going on. There was lots of talk about a fax they were waiting to come in. Masha began going through a different binder, and she stopped, and removed a page. I could see it was a boy who was about 5 years old and G-d forgive me, but both of us felt our stomachs sink to the floor; we chose Ukraine partially because of the blind referral system, and we really wanted a little girl . Natasha caught on immediately and remembered this- she asked Masha to wait- wasn’t there a little girl? A flurry of more phone calls and waiting. After about 15 long minutes she came back with a big smile, and showed Natasha a photograph. Natasha also smiled. Then she explained that Masha “officially” couldn’t show us the picture until she had received this fax, but she said, “She’s very cute.” At hearing the word “she”, both Ois and I were elated! The fax finally arrived and we were shown the very first photograph of a cute little girl with sandy hair and deep blue eyes- the girl who would be our daughter. It was an amazing feeling, to finally arrive at this moment after so much time and emotional energy- FINALLY we had seen the little face we had thought about and talked about so often!

We learned about her background, her family life, and where she was located in Ukraine- a beautiful town named Mukachevo, in eastern Ukraine, very near the Hungarian, Romanian and Slovakian borders.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mukachevo

We immediately accepted the referral on the spot, and bought the train tickets for a 14+hr journey from Kiev, which we would leave for on Wednesday (yesterday). Later that night we went out for a cheapie celebratory supper at the little Ukrainian restaurant around the corner with our friends to mark the occasion; they were thrilled for us.

It has been a very long day today, but one we’ll never forget. I’m going to keep you all in suspense until tomorrow, where I’ll tell you about meeting Mena for the first time, and all the great stuff that happened today. It was magic! Until then…

Congratulations to our parents, the new grandparents! And congratulations to my Grandma, who is now a great-grandma! And to my sisters, Michelle, Victoria & Janelle who are all Aunties, and to Dara & Ronan, the new Uncles!

Presenting Mena Devorah Grehan…

Daddy and Mena did *not* phone each other to colour-coordinate outfits, believe it or not…

Our first picture as 3!

And hey Mich, V and J… guess what?

SHE HAS THE PTASHNICK EYEBROW! ~screams~

LOLOLOL!

…And Your Bunny of the Day

2010-10-11T08:18:00.000-04:00

“Two Bunnies in Cups”

Happy Thanksgiving!

http://icanhascheezburger.com/2010/10/06/funny-pictures-video-two-bunnies-in-cups/

More For Monday, October 11th, 2010.

2010-10-11T07:21:00.000-04:00

Pisces, Saturday, 9 October 2010
Your Week Ahead:

Plenty of people are well liked by others and financially secure yet that doesn't automatically make them happy or relaxed. There is a dilemma arising in your world now that can't be solved with money. It requires a change of heart on your part and a willingness to explore new horizons. You need to think differently about something or someone. You've got to go beyond a sense of disapproval, resentment or anxiety. You need to develop more trust, even if you feel your trust has been betrayed in the past. Enjoy the gains you are starting to make, let them inspire more inner confidence. This may yet be an amazing week.