Progress

Things have been good and bad, depending on when you ask me and about whom. Tonight, we end on a good note. BoyOne has ended his three day silent treatment towards me and is camping with Huz and some of the other scouts from our church. BoyTwo, after nearly two weeks of solidly harping on him for every ridiculous thing that he does (and there have been MANY), followed by a kiss on his left cheek to let him know I still love him, promptly tilted his head and pointed to his cheek for me to give the expected kiss after I swiftly hauled his little butt back to class where he was required to apologize appropriately for swearing at his teacher and running from the classroom today. (Progress? you ask? YES!! He knows what to expect! That's one of the first things in establishing boundaries. I read so.)

So, yes. BoyOne is a typical teenager AND a newly adopted orphan and it. is. challenging. Just when we thought we may need to lower our already low expectations for this phase in our newly combined lives, he has surprised us and is behaving as a half-human again. BoyTwo hasn't completely given up swearing-okay who am I kidding-has barely begun to give up swearing. The good news, though, is that we can physically see him realize what he has done wrong right as he does it. Not in every instance, but that little light bulb has come on, and that is HUGE!! He actually apologized of his own free will and choice today (I was doing the thing where you point at your eyes and back to them, but still). He also appropriately greeted someone. It's a little frazzling not knowing what may come out of his mouth at any given time. And I'm not just talking words...

I am tired. As in physically exhausted. I have to go to school every day with BoyTwo which doesn't leave me any time to do any of the housekeeper duties until after the kids are in bed which doesn't happen until homework is done and then I still have to translate everything that is only absolutely necessary to the following days' lesson plans into Russian. Besides, everyone knows that even when your kids have jobs to 'help' around the house, it's really the kid we are helping, not ourselves. Yes, they help out, no it doesn't take anything off of me so I'm often staying up until two or three or four and then waking up at 7:45. Yeah, I know, 7:45 is sleeping in to the rest of the world, but the rest of the world doesn't stay up until the wee hours of the morning before they 'sleep in' until 7:45. Tomorrow, however hallelujah, is NO SCHOOL!!! aahhhhhhh. bliss... ish... Crap! What am I going to do with all these kids all day?! Just kidding:) We have some happiness planned.

Things have been tiring, difficult, frustrating, all of those things you experience with a new addition to the family (I know I'm not the only one out there who had to seriously adjust to life when my biological children were born.). BUT, because I am again remembering that this isn't about what I can handle or how much I can take or how much I prepared for this or how organized I am or how long I'll have to do 'this' until things get better, I am once again on my knees in fervent prayer, counseling with the Father of these boys, the healer of all, the One who knows them, and me, best, we have seen progress. You may think I'm talking about progress for the boys, and yes, they have made some progress. The progress I am talking about now, the reason for the title of the post, is my own personal progress. I progressed back to the point where I am once again completely and utterly relying on Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.

Why is it that over and over I cycle through these phases of being completely reliant on God, to then be carried by Him to a better place, to then feeling like everything is okay and thinking that means that I can handle it on my own again? Learn it, Stephanie! For the love!!!

On Sunday, a really not so good day, I taught a lesson at church about having a Christ-centered home. This after screeching at kids all morning to keep their church clothes clean until we get to church PUHLEEEEASE and to brush their teeth. At least I had lots of examples of what NOT to do:) It's hard getting six kids out the door for church no matter what time you start the process. Especially when two of them require infantile attention. Huz came back home in time to pile the kids into the suburban and take that crew to church on time. Meanwhile, I stayed behind to finish dressing, while I flat ironed my hair, applied make-up, and attempted to print off handouts for my lesson from our printer that has decided to only work when I don't need it to all during the same ten minutes I had available. Fortunately I made it to church in time to hear the lady who was conducting our meeting say, "I'm sure she'll be here, can anyone else think of any other good news or announcements?" which was the perfect cue for me to race in, heels in hand (it's easier to run through the parking lot barefoot) saying, "I've got some good news! I am here! Can you feel the spirit now?!"

Since Sunday, I have marveled at the fact that back in May when I was assigned my teaching topics, the Lord knew that during this particular week, I would need to be focusing more on the topic of having a Christ-centered home personally. Let's be honest here. This lesson wasn't for me to give to all the other ladies who needed to hear it. This lesson was for me to hear and the best way to make that happen, to ensure that I was actually at church after a morning, scratch that-week, like the one I had just experienced, was to have me be the one to 'teach' the lesson. Who do you think gained the most? Me, of course. That's how it usually goes. Sure, we always can use reminders and encouragement on how to better incorporate the Savior into our daily lives and the lives of the members of our family, but it honestly stops me in my tracks when I think about how aware of me my Father in Heaven is. To put something on my plate nearly five months before I would desperately need it?! Wow. He. is. good.

p.s. There is a slight possibility that I left three sleeping kids at home with a fourth awake child, while I ran to pick up a fifth from her friend's house, during which time (three minutes) the awake child may have become frightened and called 911...

Words

Interesting aside, I purchased a pocket sized Russian/English dictionary for BoyOne. He was like a three year old on Christmas morning. Had I known that such a simple thing would provide so much joy and entertainment, I would have either pulled it out a week ago to lighten his mood, or saved it for Christmas. You can't beat an $8 golden gift!!

As I started to put it into his backpack for use tomorrow, I held it up and called out to him so that he would see it. He practically danced over to me and, holding it with both hands, waltzed to the kitchen, grabbed a piece of lined paper, and sat at the table. He scribbled furiously. I began to hope/wonder if he was preparing an apology note for me, but then I reminded myself that he was a teenage BOY, and kept doing the dishes. He kept giggling and writing and giggling and writing. Finally, Huz went over to the table and sat next to him so as to read his 'list' of words. On the left hand side of the paper was the word in Russian. On the right hand side, the English translated word.

"What is he writing?" I asked.

"Wif, this is the most random list of words I have ever seen," answered Huz. (yes, we really do call each other Huz and Wif)

Then he began to read the list. It truly was random. I came over to the table to join the fun. BoyOne kept looking up words, very decisively, and writing them down, giggling the whole time. So, if there is some code in here that we are missing, or some funny Ukrainian inside joke, do tell. Otherwise, enjoy the randomness...

lad

paralysis

burn

partner

fern

stub

first class

dummy

forever

fellow

worm

possible

witch

(if witch, burn, and paralysis had been any closer together, I may have been concerned for my personal safety, but I'm feeling okay right now. Probably sleep with one eye open just to be safe..:))

string

hole

friend

title holder

dentures

case

?!

Remainder of Last Week

Check me out! I've found some time again!! I want to add that the first Sunday the boys were here, a young man who had just returned from serving a mission shared a scripture from Romans 12:21, "Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good." Hmmm. Seems like the big guy was maybe trying to tell me something about how to deal with the boys...

Anyhow.

In the midst of all the doctor and dentist appointments and errand running, I was meeting with both the elementary school and junior high to devise a curriculum plan for both boys, along with the ELL plan. As in several meetings for both. I am thrilled, beyond thrilled actually, that both schools and the district have thus far been great to work with and are getting things moving very quickly. Hallelujah!!

Wednesday is our craaaaaazy day. We have 'early out' every Wednesday. When I moved to this state I thought that it was the most bizarre thing to have one day every single week where elementary students get out of school early. Maybe that is how it is done now everywhere. Whatever the reason, I love it. Our old schools had early out on Friday. It made it easy to go for a quick weekend vacation. When we moved up here, I thought Wednesday early out was so random, but I have grown to love it. It's a great skiing day. Who skiis in the middle of the week in the middle of the day except the locals?? It's great. I kind of think that I would grow to love any day school got out early though!! So, Wednesday is early out. I pick the elementary kids up from school and we go straight to dance for Four. During her class we wait at the nearby park. As soon as her class is over, in goes Three and two of her friends. During this class we theoretically should be going back to the park, but have been running back home (which is no quick jaunt. It's 15-20 minutes each way) to retrieve forgotten items such as dance attire, reading materials, homework assignments, food, wallet... You get the idea. As soon as Three is finished, we haul down to our old town (50 minutes away) for One to take her dance class. During this time we have our 'town time' where we do our bulk shopping, getting together with or dropping in on old friends and neighbors, and other random things that have to be done 'in town' as we small towners call going to the 'big' city. As soon as One is done, we haul back to our quaint little residence for Huz, BoyOne and One to go to our church for their weekly and semi-weekly activities. They (are supposed to) get home at 8:30 (which is usually 9 or 9:30-too late on a school night. there's my two cents.) and it is off to bed. Somewhere in there we squeeze in homework and dinner. Whew! That wore me out just thinking about it again!!

Thursday BoyTwo started school. During one of my meetings at the elementary, a woman overheard us talking and mentioned that her neighbor spoke Russian and offered his name and phone number for our assistance. This guy is an ER doctor and due to his erratic schedule, he is available sometimes during school hours. He offered to come to the school and translate for BoyTwo during the first two hours of his first two days of school. It was VERY helpful and VERY kind of him to do this. Especially because the second day of school he came straight to the school from his shift at the hospital. (which reminds me of how each of my kids have pronounced hospital: hostible. haha) I am at the school, but not in the classroom unless necessary. We decided that it was essential for BoyTwo to recognize that his teacher was the one in charge of this show, and I introduced her to him by saying while I was gone, he was to listen to her, she was in charge. He did alright. He swears a lot. A lot. Fortunately it was all in Russian. He tried to kick a little girl, but missed, pushed a boy off the monkey bars, luckily he was not hurt, and ran around the classroom wreaking havoc. I hope that this doesn't push this teacher into retirement. Poor lady. Honestly, though, it was about what we expected. It was a little awkward for the doctor and the teacher and the teacher's aide when BoyTwo would act out because they weren't sure if they should all try to handle him, or just keep translating what was going on or what. They figured it out and made it work. At the very beginning of the day, I introduced everyone. At the end of the day (we only did 1/2 day) we sat down and went over the school rules. BoyTwo kept swearing and saying that he was not going to obey the rules. The doctor wasn't translating all of this at first until I told him that I understood what the little turd was saying. I pulled BoyTwo's chair toward mine so that we were facing each other and took his grouchy little face in my hand and made him apologize to the doctor, the teacher, the counselor and me for his foul language and rudeness. Then I told him the next time he swore I would wash his mouth out with soap because I was sure it was just filthy from all those dirty, dirty words. The doctor continued with the rules. BoyTwo started to sass, but this time I didn't wait for translation. He was required to apologize immediately and agree to the rules and regulations of the school with the other option being that he remain in that chair until he was ready to agree to being safe and respectful. I also reminded him that I would be happy to 'shampoo' his mouth if he needed me to. We can't have a dirty mouth, you know. While we waited at the school in case of an emergency, I sorted and folded and passed out school t-shirts. BoyOne was less than thrilled to be hanging out at the school with nothing to do. I tried to tell him that he could play on the computer or my phone but, because he is fourteen and Ukrainian, he knows everything and wouldn't even listen to me tell him this. His loss. Next, he asked for me to buy him a soda from the vending machine. I am anti-soda. I rarely drink soda. I don't like it. It's full of sugar, it's bad for your teeth, it makes my eyes water. I don't buy it except for maybe twice a year. Plus, you have to pay for it. So, when he asked me for soda, I told him no. I didn't have any money (true) and there was a drinking fountain in the hall. He. was. ticked. He went off on a Russian rant about how I always say no. No, no, no, no. America sucks. I suck. Swear words. America sucks again. And I had not such a shining mommy moment where I told him to stop talking right now. Then I added that Ukraine sucks. Whatever, we all have room to grow.

So, I'm pretty sure that everyone will agree that there is absolutely no inkling of respect in these kids and I'm sure their pasts have everything to do with it. I wouldn't respect any adult or person either if I'd had to deal with what they had. I am a firm believer that you cannot force someone into respecting another person. That being said, I do believe that you can teach them to treat all people respectfully. Two different things in my book. And both are going to take a loooong time to learn. And lots of effort. And I'm probably going to feel really annoyed that they don't just get it. So, bear with me as I complain about the lack of respect. Especially when it's over a can of stupid sprite!! Yes, we anticipated disrespect, but that doesn't mean that it doesn't bug when it happens.

Friday, BoyOne started school. He hyperventilated going over there, but insisted that he was fine and wanted to start. My one eyebrow was WAY up there, but I was going to let him go if he said he was ready. The school he attends is amazing. I completely forgot to tell you that Monday night, one of my friends from the PTO invited our family over for dinner and playtime. She also invited over several boys who were all BoyOne's age that he would be attending school with. We are surrounded by great people with great kids up here and we feel very blessed. These boys were great. They took BoyOne right in and made him feel so comfortable and confident. My friend's son made sure that he was the one to show BoyOne around the school and to his classes. The boys on his soccer team have rallied around him as have the kids from the neighborhood. When I picked him up after his first day and asked him how it had gone, he gave me a big smile and two thumbs up and then,

"girls!!"

with an even bigger smile and more enthusiastic thumbs.

???!!????

yikes.

Friday was lovely. Really busy again. BoyOne had a soccer game two hours south of where we live, so I sent Huz and the boys to that. The girls and I took One to dance and met several of our friends at the park while we waited for her class to end. When it was over, we ran a few more 'in town' errands and then grabbed a gourmet McDonalds dinner (gag) and ran to the airport to see one of my friends who was just arriving with her two new children from Ukraine. I can hardly believe that I had come home just a week ago, but there I was. Still standing. Even if it was just barely:)

Catch Up?

When I have a spare millisecond to myself, the last thing I want to do is blog. I struggle in my mind with what to do. Should I use the bathroom? It may be my only chance. Should I blink my eyelids? If I don't my eyeballs might dry up and fall out. Should I sit down? I may not ever stand up again... But, I will blog. I really want to record all this... stuff so that someday I can look back and see (hopefully) how far we have come. I also want proof that these crazy days really did happen. So, here I am. I have just a few minutes to try to capture the past week.

I don't even remember Friday. Just like any other person, there is no break to be taken or day of rest to 'adjust' to the time change. We got home after midnight from the airport, went to bed by 2, and were up at 8. We decided to let the kids all sleep in a little and just be 15 minutes late to school. The night we arrived home, Huz was all set to go to bed and let the boys 'go to bed whenever they are tired.' He obviously had not spent the past 2 weeks as a single parent to them. On my urging (psychotic insistence) he sat by their beds until they held still long enough to go to sleep. When he came to bed, he said to me that he had tucked them in and rubbed BoyTwo's back for a few seconds and that had put him right to sleep. He commented on how sad it was that he had never had anyone to do that for him. My response was (this will show you how out of sorts I was), "I did that for him last October when they were here, so he has had it done." I then added that I was glad that Huz liked BoyTwo, because I sure didn't.

Saturday was a blur. We had to make a few purchases for the boys, as it is officially fall here in the little town we reside. BoyOne was supposed to have a soccer game, but we had a CRAZY storm and it was cancelled. You all know that it takes a lot to get a soccer game cancelled. They play in everything but lightening. Which reminds me of what we did Friday. I had to do a bunch of paperwork in order to get BoyOne registered for the soccer team he would be joining. I was being helped by another soccer mom and the both of us were busting our butts to get everything together so that he could play the next day. When he complained about all the errands, I just told him that we had to do this for him to play soccer. If he didn't want to play, then we could just stay home. His choice. With eyes rolling and Russian sentiments rolling off his sassy little tongue, he reluctantly agreed to finishing our errands. Good move buddy.

Back to Saturday. We got up early for the game which ended up being cancelled, but that was fine, my two little girls had a dance clinic that morning. The rest was a blur. I do remember more of Friday though. haha. I had this family fun night at the elementary that I wanted/needed to be at. I sent Huz with BoyOne to finish shopping for church pants, church socks, a church shirt, cleats, shin guards, and long pants/jeans for school. I had already been to two other stores with all six kids and my sister and I thought it was only fair for Huz to have this experience with BoyOne. The other five and my sister and I enjoyed an evening of free entertainment and super cheap dinner. It was great. So far, I hadn't had to cook yet. Phew.

When we got back home, Huz and BoyOne had found everything on the list. They had visited FOUR STORES!! And Huz could hardly believe it. I was secretly happy that it hadn't been quick and easy, because nothing I had done thus far had been so and it was only fair to share with Huz in that frustration. When I went to iron the boys church clothes, I discovered that the way wrong size had been purchased for BoyOne. I desperately called my neighbor who has a son that had an extra pair for us to borrow. It was EXTREMELY important to me that the boys be properly clothed for church. Whatever they wore the first time would set the stage for the rest of the Sundays. I also had to call Huz and ask where we kept our iron and ironing board. I don't iron. When I was younger, I took a woman's ironing in for her and I actually really enjoy ironing, it's just not something that I have time for. So, Huz is in charge of his own ironing, or he can send it out to the cleaner. Now that the boys are here, I thought I had better set the example for them of preparing properly their church attire. My plan is that they too will soon be responsible for their own ironing. Well, maybe not BoyTwo, he is a little young...

Sunday morning Huz had some meetings. I was surprised that he was still going, since basically we had just had two babies. He assured me that he would be back an hour before church started so as to assist me in getting everyone out the door. We were all up by 7, which gave us 5 hours to get ready for church. Energizer Bunny had not run out of batteries yet though and between doing hair for the girls and getting everyone fed and dressing the Bunny (I know he's seven, but he cannot do even the most basic of things. It truly has been like having a baby. Like a ten month old. Or two year old. Depending on what it is.) BoyOne wanted to wear a black tshirt underneath his white button up shirt and tie, and black ankle high sport socks with his tan dress pants. I told him that he needed to take off the black shirt and socks, that it wasn't a popular look here for church. Based on his reaction, you'd have thought I told him that he had to go naked. He yelled at me in Russian. I told him calmly to put them on for church and then walked away. A few minutes later I saw that he had taken off the tacky black tshirt but not the socks. I decided to let Huz deal with that one when he got home any minute. Except that it wasn't any minute. When he got home we only had twenty minutes until church started and it is a ten minute drive. Four was giving a talk at the very beginning of church and I hadn't even showered yet. BoyTwo needs his own personal aide morning, noon and night. I have to stick to him like glue or else he is into some kind of trouble. Huz packed the kids into the suburban after telling BoyOne to change his socks. I took a thirty second shower (what was the point?!) and hauled over to the church just in time to catch the end of Four's talk and see BoyTwo start kicking a little girl. For no reason. Now no reason is a good reason, but at least it would make sense if there had been something going on. Nope, he just walked up to this sweet little girl and started kicking her. I hurried and grabbed him (boy, was he surprised to see me!) and made him apologize. Four did great on her talk. One and Three helped her. BoyTwo got to sit next to me (which was the plan. I was not about to leave his Primary teacher to deal with him on her own!!). He for some reason chose to punch a little boy in the stomach and would not apologize or agree to not hit anymore. I sat with him in the hall for twenty minutes. I made him stand against the wall. He wanted to sit, but there was no way I was going to let him be comfy when he was hurting others. During the twenty minutes, I asked him probably three other times if he was going to hit again. His answer was yes, I want to hit, I will hit. So, I had to go pull my husband out of the class that he was teaching, for presence. Huz is a big guy. I didn't want Huz telling BoyTwo what to do, I wanted him to listen to me and mind me, I just needed Huz for some leverage. It worked. Then Huz took a minute with him and told him not to disrespect Mom and that he needed to apologize to me, which he did. Then he apologized to the little boy he assaulted. The rest of the meeting was fine. Probably a little boring for them. I brought the Old Testament in Russian and BoyOne read for almost an hour. BoyTwo looked at the pictures and I tried to show him who Jesus was. From then on, any guy with shaggy brown hair was Jesus. :) At the end of the meeting, BoyTwo stood up and walked up to a girl and kicked her in the shins. Wouldn't you know it, it was the sister of the little girl he had kicked earlier. What are the chances. Huz saw that one and took care of it. That was nice. I get tired of being the one who sees it all and has to take care of it all. It's nice to have someone else's help. The rest of Sunday was fine, I think. At least if it wasn't, it wasn't so bad that I remember!!

Monday I took the boys to get their physicals and immunizations. They each had to have four shots and a TB test. You'd a thought they were having their fingernails pried off. My word. I already prefaced this experience a couple of posts ago, so I won't go into detail. They cried like baby girls. Seriously, it was as though they were being tortured. I finally typed on my phone that when Four gets her immunizations she doesn't cry. That shut them up a little. But, like the other post said, BoyOne was scared. to. death. He kept hyperventilating and almost passing out. He cried and cried and cried. Then he ran away and the hospital/clinic that we were at had to go on lockdown. They wanted to know if I wanted to call the police. I told them no. I really didn't think he'd go far. We were down in the town that we used to live in, that he had never been to. He had no idea where he was or what to do or where to go. I figured he'd come back or hide by the car. He came back, got his shots (only took three of us to hang on to him) and some band aids and a sucker and was all better. On the bright side, he allowed me to comfort him. BoyTwo, it took three of us to hold him down and he screamed like a banshee. Both boys limped and hobbled and didn't move their arms as if they had been brutally attacked, instead of immunized. This little act went on only as long as they could remember. (like when they were jumping on the trampoline and then saw me watching...) At home I gave them tylenol and put them to bed.

Tuesday, we went to the dentist. Our school district requires a dental exam and a physical and obviously all immunizations to be current prior to enrollment. I'm not really trying to overwhelm them more than necessary, but it is necessary for me (and for them) to get them into school a.s.a.p. I don't want them to fall behind any more than they already are. There is a ton of catching up to do. No, I don't expect them to be caught up any time soon. My goal is for BoyOne to be age appropriate by the time he is in 10th grade. Whether that is at the beginning or the end, I'm not going to specify. BoyTwo, I hope that by the time he is in 4th grade, he'll be age appropriate. And by age appropriate, I mean curriculum wise, caught up in their education. As far as maturity, I have no goals in mind as I feel that it will be continual and I just honestly have no idea. Educationally, I'm estimating that BoyTwo is at the preschool level (and that would be not taking into account the language barrier) and BoyOne at a fifth grade level. BoyTwo is starting in 1st grade, BoyOne 8th. There is a lot of catching up to do, which we anticipated and which is also typical. Anyhow, so off to the dentist we went.

BoyOne hyperventilated off and on the whole way there and again a few times while we were there. It's getting a little ridiculous. I had a translator explain that we were only having his teeth brushed, and pictures taken (x-ray) and he asked about 928387429834982 times if he was getting his teeth pulled. Obviously he's had a bad experience somewhere along the way. Thank the heavens for good dental insurance. BoyTwo needs three root canals and has four additional bad cavities. This was not a surprise to me. You can easily see each of those cavities in his little mouth. It's bad. BoyOne has five cavities and needs two of his front teeth fixed. They broke off from, get this, hula hooping. Not sure if I believe this one. He was adamant about it. Oh well. I don't really care how it happened, it just needs to be fixed. They brushed his teeth with a tooth brush, him watching in a mirror the whole. entire. time. Continually asking if they were going to pull out a tooth. Hyperventilated and they had to stop twice. Then they showed him their little scrapey thing that they use to get off plaque. The hygienist spent thirty minutes scraping the tobacco and plaque off of his teeth and only got to the front four on the top and bottom, and only on the side that faces out, not the insides. It. was. bad. They were shocked at how much tobacco was on them and how discolored they are-especially for his age. They about passed out when I told them how long he had been smoking. He was very pleased with how it helped his teeth look. They told him he had to brush morning and night. He had to floss. He has to use a prescription fluoride toothpaste, as his teeth are already formed, we have to do outside in, instead of inside out. That stuck with him and he brushed thoroughly that night. And then wouldn't again for the next two days. Ew. Someday, I hope that he will graduate to at least daily morning brushing.

And that takes us to Wednesday. It's already too long, so I'll finish catching up later. Just know that things are going as expected, which is rough. We are teaching them things that we have been teaching our biological children since the day they were born. We are trying to undo a lot of behaviors and mindsets. It will take time. We knew this. Just because we knew this, doesn't mean we aren't tired or irritated by the end of the day. Worth it? Of course!! We wouldn't change a thing that we have done.

BeeMommy, we'll be in touch. Jefferson, great idea to contact the local police. His tendency is for flight. Annie, it is good to hear that the anxiety has lessened. Hopefully it ends more quickly for BoyOne or else he'll be 18 with us holding him down!:) Everybody else, let's do lunch someday before the end of 2011!

And I forgot to thank Andreas for bringing a soccer ball to the airport. It was instrumental in the entertainment of all those former orphans. Great thinking!!

Flight Home

The flight home was difficult-and that is a severe understatement. I would like to tell you that I am a veteran traveler with children. I fly frequently with my biological children by myself. Granted, we all speak the same language, our flights are 7 hours instead of 30, and none of us smoke, but still, I know how to travel with kids. I've dealt with eardrums rupturing in flight, throwing up, potty accidents, dislocated elbows, and a myriad of other events that I felt qualified me at least a tiny little bit, or at the very least, had prepared me slightly to travel with the boys.

I don't sleep before I fly internationally (the few times I have traveled internationally I have done this and it helps me adjust to the time change very easily). It was a no brainer, too, because we had to leave our apartment at 3 a.m. to get to the airport in time for our 5:30 flight, which meant we had to be awake by 2:30 a.m. at the latest.

The boys didn't fall asleep until 11:30. I could've kicked myself. I had planned on bringing along some melatonin to use in case of an event that I deemed an emergency and this would've qualified. Not as an emergency, that would come later. The melatonin would have just been handy at this point. I had put them to bed at 8:30, but they were too excited to sleep. I wasn't too concerned though, thinking that this would help them to sleep on the airplane.

Wrong.

Actually, it helped BoyOne to sleep. I think he would've slept anyway. He's a teenager. BoyTwo was c.r.a.z.y. As in during our thirty hours of traveling, he slept for two hours. TWO HOURS people!!! That alone can make a person crazy.

I'm considering manufacturing a shirt for adoptive parents to wear on their flights home that says something along these lines, and in four or five languages so that most people on these international flights can read it:

'Don't judge me or my children. You have no idea what they or I have been through. We have only officially been related for one week. If they are driving you nuts, just know that I am at my wits end and truly wish that I could do something about it. If you have any tranquilizers, they would be greatly appreciated.'

BoyTwo was on crack or something. He's always been a 'bundle of energy' but this was like nothing I had seen since my brother was a child. He literally could. not. hold. still. For even one second. It got to the point where I had to physically restrain him so that the flight attendants would leave us alone. If I wasn't holding his hands, he was pushing all the buttons on our row and the one in front and behind us. I had to wrap his legs inside of mine to keep him from pummeling the seat in front of him. He was the fricking energizer bunny. I seriously want to know who slipped him what. This went on the entire time during the flights. Oh! I almost forgot to tell you about the screaming. This wasn't the typical 'oh my little ears hurt so bad' type of screaming, this was the 'I am totally aware that I am bugging the hell out of everyone around me and I'm getting a high off of it' kind. So his legs were in between mine, one of my hands was clasped over his mouth and the other was holding his arms still. If I happened to doze off and let go, he would go ballistic again. Please, don't think that this happened once for thirty seconds and I was thrown to the depths of despair. After this happened during the entire flight from Kyiv to Frankfurt and all other resources had been exhausted, this was what had to be done so that we weren't forced by the flight crew to parachute from the plane into the ocean during our second flight. BoyOne tried to help, but his means of getting BoyTwo to behave and comply are not exactly conventional or acceptable (except for in the institutions of Ukraine), so that wasn't really working out either. The other problem was spitting. As in the gross thing that boys do. On the floor of the plane, airport, apartment, store, you name it. If we were there, so was his spit on the ground. And don't even get me started on the snot issue. He was blowing his nose on his fingers and then wiping it where ever he happened to be. He did this once when we hosted him and I showed him how to use a tissue and was totally grossed out and that was that. I guess he FORGOT!!!! And me reminding him and offering tissues and making him clean up after himself didn't help. Touching. He touched everything and everyone. EVERYTHING!!! EVERYONE!!!!! I was mortified.

By the way, have I mentioned the six words he knows in English?

"I WANT EAT!!!!!!!!"

and

_______ ____ _______.

The first time he said the latter, I thought that certainly, I had misunderstood. In my delirious exhaustion, I MUST have had a brain lapse, so I asked him what he had said. That was a mistake because then several others heard it too. Niiiiiiiiice.

When I arrived in Germany, two things were running through my mind:

1) What have I done?!

and

2) What am I supposed to do for the next twenty hours?!

And then BoyOne stole some cigarettes at a shop in the Frankfurt airport. Sweeeeeeet. Unfortunately, I didn't figure this out until we got to the States. I don't know. Maybe it was a good thing that I didn't find out. The boys would still be in Frankfurt.

The overseas flight was just as awful as the first flight, only much, much longer. When I landed in Washington D.C., I was so happy to be surrounded by fellow Americans that I nearly cried. Only to be seriously disappointed a few minutes later when I heard the customs workers being very, very rude to a man who was immigrating with his wife and two kids.

Nice man: "Excuse me, where I supposed to go, please?"

Customs jerk: "How do I know? You're supposed to go where they told you."

Nice man, who hopefully didn't understand the customs jerk: "Thank you. Have good day."

Customs jerk, mocking the nice man: "Yeah, man. 'have good day too.'"

Suddenly way less proud to be an American. And no, I didn't get the jerk's name to report him and no I didn't offer to help the nice man. Honestly, I was desperate to do both, but I could barely hold myself together at this point. I did see another worker come to help him. I'm still bothered that I didn't do anything about that though.

After our lovely five hour layover in D.C., during which time I had to cart BoyTwo around like he was a rabid dog, we boarded the plane to home. Thanks to some 'strong headwinds' we were forty minutes delayed. There was a man on our flight who had a connecting flight that was waiting for him (did you know that they still did that?!). We were all asked to stay seated so that the man and his luggage could get off the plane as quickly as possible.

Finally, finally, we were in America. Land of the free, home of the brave. In my home state. Minutes away from family and friends, awaiting our arrival. I was giddy to see them and to have the boys have so many of their friends from their orphanage there to greet them. I was hoping for a magical, made for the movies, moment. In my mind I could see the smiles, feel the hugs. I was having a wonderful slow motion vision of reunion when I heard wheels screeching to a sudden halt. Then I realized it wasn't wheels screeching, but my very own Ukrainian.

We didn't even make in down the dang corridor from the airplane to the terminal before BoyTwo had a full blown tantrum over who knows what. By then, other passengers had just had it with him and just climbed over him. I had zero sympathy for the kid. I didn't give a holy crap that he may have been tired, overstimulated, nervous, whatever. I wanted him to shut the heck up and get us down the stairs so that I could hand him off to my husband. I was done.

Finally, we made it to the gate and started to walk down the terminal where we all needed to use the bathroom. BoyTwo did his awesome nose blow a couple of times so I had to clean him and it up. All the while he is still jumping up and down, screaming at the top of his lungs. The thought that ran through my mind here was that I totally understood why that lady shipped her kid back to Russia. Only God knows what that woman went through. I know what she did was wrong and I know that the little boy had what I'm sure was a horrific history that led him to behave the way he did, but if I was going to have to deal with this for the next who knows how many years, I'm not so sure that I would be able to make a great decision either.

When we finally got down the stairs to the crowd of friends and family who had so patiently been waiting for us, I didn't even want to touch him anymore. I passed him off to Huz and my sister (who is miraculously still talking to me!!) and hugged my girls. What I really wanted to do was curl up in the fetal position and take a nap for three years.

It was so, so great to see my family. I just wanted to hug and kiss and hold my clean little girls who smelled good and who don't swear at me. Who actually wanted to be with me. Two of my sisters were there to meet us, Huz's sister and her family, Huz's brother and his wife and her mother, and loads of our friends who had all recently adopted. Honestly, the thing that kept me off that dirty airport floor was all those people. Knowing that they were there for us to support us and that some of them had been through this exact thing, been in the exact place I was now, felt the exact same hopeless, end of the rope feelings I was having, seeing them standing kept me standing.

Thanks guys.

Holy Moses!!

So much to tell!!

I wanted to cry like a baby.

I tried hard not to hyperventilate and pass out.

I wanted to run away.

This was me on the plane.

He cried like a baby.

He did hyperventilate and almost passed out. Twice.

He ran away (and put the hospital in lockdown until we found him).

That was BoyOne at the doctor's office getting his immunizations.

I felt so bad that he was really so scared, but it was so hard to not laugh.

Stay tuned...

Monday/Tuesday

The past couple of days have been good. Nothing too exciting, but that's what we need. I'm going to try to find the tile park today. I can't wait. In everyone else's pictures from Kyiv, those were my favorite. I don't like taking the boys places where there are lots of options to choose from or lots of things to want to buy. Just like with all children, those places are overstimulating to them and as a parent, I don't like to deal with the 'I wants'. Drives me nuts. Pictures are from the past two days. Captions underneath. I leave for home in less than 24 hours. Pretty excited!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Monday we had our first appointment at the embassy and the boys had their medical exams. This is the waiting area for kids at the doctor's office where we get our medical exams. Kids being adopted must have medical exams and be declared healthy (enough) to enter the U.S.

This is the outside of the medical exam building.

This is a very cool tower, wrapped in ivy, that is just outside the medical exam building. I thought it was so beautiful. Natasha said that in a few weeks it would be even moreso, with the leaves changing colors.

We've done a little bit of coloring to kill time. I brought the coloring stuff for BoyTwo, but BoyOne has had just as much interest and entertainment with them as well, as you can see.

Another time killer. Pillow fights. The apartment we are in here in Kyiv is pretty big so it easily accomodates the boys' high activity level fulfilling their need for physical exertion.

Tuesday we went to the zoo after our second embassy appointment. I offered a movie or the zoo and both boys wanted to go to the zoo. I was kind of surprised. I thought BoyOne would probably agree to go to the zoo, if that was what his brother had wanted, but he actually wanted to go himself. We were there a looooong time and still didn't make it through all the exhibits. I thought it was a nice zoo. I would recommend it. BoyTwo kept saying, 'Move it, move it. Move it, move it.' haha.

One of the pelicans was hurt, the one on the far left, closest to the water. The one right next to it was trying to protect it. It was pretty cool to watch. The protective bird literally had its wing extended around the injured bird and was yelling at the other birds who were trying to peck at the hurt one. They were sword fighting with their beaks.

Flamingos. I love watching them walk on their long, spindly legs. We don't have flamingos at our zoo back home, so it was fun to see them.

We went for a ride on the ferris wheel. This is the view from it of Kyiv. I thought it looked really pretty. Everything is still pretty green here. In Zap, leaves had already started changing colors and falling off of trees. I bet this view will be really pretty in a few weeks with the fall colors.

The ferris wheel. The zoo was actually kept up very well. The paint was fresh and it was as clean as zoos get.

The boys are sitting on these statues of wooly mammoths? I actually have no idea, but that's what I'm thinking. They love to climb. So do my girls. BoyTwo is kind of wussy in this area. He can climb alright, but then cannot/is too scared to get down. My four year old can teach him...

This lion is so pretty. They were not caged in but instead had a large mote surrounding their exhibit so that they couldn't (hopefully) get out. There was one lion and three lionnesses. The lionnesses were fighting. We weren't sure why until later that afternoon, on our way out of the zoo, we passed the lion exhibit again and there were people crowded all around. We went over to see what was going on and the two of the lions were putting on a special show. The favored lionness then proceeded to flaunt herself in front of the other two lionness and show off. It was pretty funny. No, we didn't stop and stare, but it was pretty easy to see this just as we passed by.

I have a friend that lived in Dubai for a few months. While she was there her four year old son went for a ride in a large beach ball that floats out on the water. The ball was tethered to land so they didn't go very far. Anyhow, lo and behold, here in Kyiv, Ukraine, at the zoo, a similar 'ride.' The boys wanted to try it and I wanted them to, so they did. The boys climb in and then they fill the ball with air with a leaf blower. Then, the guy zips the ball shut and they have about three or four minutes to run around like hamsters. Think zu zu pets. The funny thing is that earlier at the zoo, BoyTwo was SO FULL OF ENERGY that I had told Natasha that I wished I had a human size ball for him to run in, like a hamster. When we actually found one, it was funny. The other funny part was that the zipper got stuck when BoyOne was inside and the guy in charge of the ride couldn't get it open. We could tell he was getting embarassed but it was so funny. We had to just turn away like we weren't looking, but we were laughing.

BoyTwo didn't quite understand how to make the ball move all over the little pond. Instead he rolled around and flopped all over staying mostly in the same place. At least it wore him out. Totally worth the $3 it cost me.

BoyOne quickly figured out how to make the ball move around where he wanted it to. He was running, diving, and somersaulting to make it move. He was entertaining to watch. He also received a good workout! Mission accomplished.

The outside of the zoo.

Back to Friday, Saturday and Sunday

This picture was taken Sunday afternoon. I couldn't believe BoyOne actually agreed to have his picture taken without flashing some gangster sign!! A miracle!! All captions will be underneath.

Sunday afternoon we found a park to play at. We were a lot underdressed. Everyone else was in their Sunday best. And not just because it was Sunday. We passed this same park yesterday and same thing, dressed to the hilt. Weird. When we were there, we saw a woman smacking her daughter, who was probably only one, with a stick. Natasha told me that just recently a law was passed in Ukraine making it illegal to beat your child(ren). Guess this woman didn't get the update.

These are the cobblestone roads of Kyiv. If it looks like a bunch of torn up rocks, you are right. I can't imagine being here in the fall or winter and having to walk on it when it is rainy or snowy. Yikes!!! Imagine all the broken ankles!

This was at the park on Sunday. There was this statue of some animal, not sure what kind, but BoyTwo sat on it and I took his picture. A while later, a couple came to the park and they took turns posing on the statue and photographing each other. Guess you're never too old?...

Hi, my name is Stephanie and I just adopted two boys from Ukraine.
I need to join AA as in Adopters Anonymous.

BoyOne took this picture of me on the train. "Zombie! Zombie!" they say. Unfortunately, I wasn't trying to be a zombie, this is just me after a really looooong day.

BoyTwo wanted to sleep on the top bunk on the train. Yelena was worried about him falling off, which is probably a legitimate concern given how much he moves around during the night.
And, they worked, nobody fell off their bunk!

Yana and the boys. She has been so good to us and to them. I recommend her a million times over if you ever need a translator in the Zaporizhye region. She has facilitated before also. She rocks. I can't say enough good things about her!!

A beautiful rainbow. It was a double actually but you can't really see the other one. It was really brilliant, but again, it doesn't look as bright as it really was.

Losha and Roma. They were asking about Myck and Renee and Dale. I saw Roma the most. He is a good kid. They both are.

This is BoyOne with his teacher on the end, Marina is her name, the director, Larissa, (Marina and Larissa are sisters) and the three girls in his class.

Well, Friday BoyOne remembered he had left a couple of things at the orphanage. Apparently they had been locked in the closet and the caregiver with the key was not there the day that we left. So, after getting permission from Larissa to come back, we did. It was kind of weird/funny/uncomfortable to go back. I was worried about the other kids feeling badly again and about making the teachers mad. We tend to cause quite a stir. Not wanting any kids feeling worse than they already may have, I was willing to risk ticking the caregivers off and we loaded up on food and treats to hand out to everyone.

While we were at the orphanage, BoyOne asked permission for his friend to come back to Zap and hang out with us for the night. I didn't really want to do this because we would be taking only one with us and I don't like to leave anyone out. I also am running out of money and didn't want to have to pay for the driver to go back to Matviivka again!! In the end we ended up taking one boy with us back to the apartment, eating dinner, watching t.v. and buying yet more food to send back for sharing.

It was actually fun to go back to Matviivka. The kids were surprised and excited to see us again. I told them we missed it here so much that we had to return. They thought that was pretty funny. Because it was a Friday evening, supervision was pretty lax and I was able to just hang out and watch the kids and chat with others. It was a good ending.

The boy that came with us was in BoyOne's class. His name is Yena. Not to be confused with Yana. We don't have the letter in our alphabet that his name starts with. It's the German throaty h sound. Anyhow... We had a great night and I hope that we sent him back to Matviivka with a very full stomach.

Saturday I think I talked about quite enough, minus the train ride. I do love the train. There were quite a lot of tears between me and BoyOne. Things were good though.

Sunday we hung out around Kyiv and had a lovely time.

Some things I have not mentioned before are the street people we saw. By far this trip I saw more homeless people than in our previous trips and it hurt my heart. Especially because already it is so cold at night and it will only get colder. From the window of my bedroom and the kitchen of the apartment we stayed in we could easily see the dumpster. Every time I ever looked out the window I saw people eating out of it. I know this is a problem in our country as well and it doesn't matter where it happens or why, it is an unfortunate thing. BoyOne always would give any food we had with us or copics (change) to them as he remembers what it was like to beg for food. He has a good heart. We were at McDonalds once and a homeless woman came in with her children and was trying to beg money off of people. I gave her some change. BoyOne gave her children the remainder of his meal.

Well, I'm having a hard time thinking of what else happened, although I know there was more. I'll have to try to remember for later. Tune in for next time when I will write about the fun day we had yesterday and today, especially. And no, I'm not saying that with sarcasm. Things are going well here. Phew!!!!

Saturday

Me, BoyOne, Vika (bio mom) and BoyTwo

Wendy, this one's for you, since you asked. Angela, I am sooo not smart enough to have any idea what that means, but I will find someone who does, so thanks for the tip:) Also, Horlachers, please email me, I have a question about the doll and plate you want and can't find your email...

Saturday was, as Yana says, something. As in there are no words to describe it. Please, if you have had similar experiences or can offer words of advice or encouragement, do so. You can email me privately if you'd rather.

Hmmmm. Where to start. BoyOne had a bath and brushed his teeth the day I checked them out of the orphanage. I want to emphasize that this was, in fact, a bath. As in he sat in the filthy water which in my opinion did no good as far as cleaning him. In fact, I had to scrub the bathtub twice after he got out. It looked as if it had been filled with mud. He didn't smell better. How could he have with water that dirty. I don't even know if he used soap. He really needed to shower and then take a bath. But, at the orphanage they hardly ever shower. And, this is gross, but the soap they use doesn't smell good and it doesn't clean either. When I would wash my hands there, they would end up dirtier than before I had washed them. I guess there are just too many dirty little hands and bodies using the soap. I don't understand it really. Also, the kids leave their underwear on at all times. Even when showering or bathing. Part of me is grateful that they have some aspect of 'modesty', but on the other hand, the kids will literally NEVER change their underwear. I'm sure some of them do, but most of them really believe that there is no need. So, you guessed it, he is still wearing the same nasty undies. You also read correctly that he has only brushed his teeth once. HOLY STINK.

Everything they eat here is bacon flavored, too. Sorry Jami, I know you liked the bacon flavored peanuts, but this trend has got to go!!!! Do you have any idea how nauseating the smell of bacon flavored breath mixed with cigarette smoke is??? Let me tell you, it's really, really, really bad. I hate bacon anyhow, and this has just sealed the deal in case there had been any chance in the future that I may reconsider. Ew. Ewewewewewew!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Saturday morning, I had about had it with being bored, listening to Russian television at the LOUDEST FRICKING VOLUME possible. I tell you, I sit there and turn it down and they turn it right back up. I hold the remote, they use the volume on the t.v. I block the t.v. and hold the remote, they freeeeeeeeeeeak out. I absolutely HATE the t.v. We hardly ever watch it at our house. Days will go by and it will not turn on at all. (Except for my husband who promptly turns off the alarm clock and turns on CNBC e.v.e.r.y. morning). Thanks, Matviivka and all those thus far involved in shaping the behavior of my children and all other orphans. I can only imagine how much t.v. they sit and watch in a week. And the volume has got to be doing some hearing damage. But, I guess it doesn't matter much as the life expectancy of these kids is so low. They probably die before they start to lose their hearing. I'm sorry if that sounds bad. It does to me, too, but it's true.

Back to Saturday. (by the way it's been raining so there goes the great outdoors.) We were all awake early. We had an appointment at the passport office to meet the guy there and pick up passports at 11:30. They close at noon. At nine, I reminded BoyOne of the day's activities and that he needed to shower. As in wash his hair, his feet (whole other smell there), his armpits, his whole body, with soap. He said ok, but didn't budge. I got myself all ready and BoyTwo. At ten I asked BoyOne to come eat some breakfast. He said he wasn't hungry. 10:30 I told him to please get ready. He said in a minute. at 10:45 I turned the t.v. off. I think if I had pooped on his face I'd have had a better reaction. Judas. Holy hell broke loose. There was yelling and screaming and crying and slamming of doors. I had to physically restrain him at one point so that he wouldn't break something. He wanted to 'go outside.' (smoke) I told him he had to shower first. More screaming. By now it's 11 and we need to leave in twenty minutes. He goes in and starts the bath. I'm not very happy about this as it takes much longer and doesn't even get him clean, but I've got to pick my battles. At 11:05 I knock on the door because I can hear that he is not in the tub. He tells me he is waiting for it to fill all the way up before he gets in. I tell him no, please get in right now or we will be late. He refuses. Right about now I want to kill him. I pull the drain on the tub and hand him his shoes. He freaks out. He wants to shower first.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!

Too damn bad. He missed that train about three hours ago. Little _________!!! And I tell him this (well, not the little _____ part). Now, he's not fluent in English, nor am I in Russian, but let me tell you that when you're having conversations like this, it's international and you know what each other are saying. I end up having to physically dress this fourteen year old baby and physically carry him out the door. I was beyond pissed. At this point Helen is freaking out and saying that we should just leave him and that we can get the passports without him, just let him do what he wants, blah blah blah. She means well, but there is NO WAY on God's green earth that I am backing down from this. NO. Way. No way.

So we head out to walk to the office (this is my favorite part, for reals) and it is now 11:35, we are late for our appointment and they close very soon and the man that is in charge of our particular passport Helen is worried about him leaving. She calls Zheniya our driver and asks him to send a cab for us saying that we have no time to walk. In my mind I'm thinking that I remember the passport office being about a five minute walk. Ten minutes, max. (so why the taxi?! by the time it comes, we could just walk there. there is no rationale to this.) I ask her to call the passport guy and ask if he will please wait. She says he will not. We are still standing there waiting for a cab. At 11:40, I take BoyTwo's hand and tell Helen and BoyOne to follow me, that we are not waiting for a driver and that we will walk. (If I had had to pay for a driver, I would've gone through the roof anyhow) We get to the passport office at 11:45, the man is waiting for us and I am quite sure that he can tell that not one of us is happy. He looks slightly amused. He asks if I am sure I want their passports. I tell him not really. BoyOne pipes up that I am refusing him food. Oh no, he did NOT!!!!!!!! That poor passport guy got an earful (not me talking to him, but him hearing me talk to BoyOne). I'm sure that this is not the first crazy orphan or crazy mother he has seen, but still. Sheesh. Wouldn't feed him?! Are you freaking kidding me?!?! So I had to add that I'd be happy to feed him if he could take a smoke break and shower for the first time in three days. Passport guy is laughing only it is not. funny. To BoyOne or to me, or to Helen I'm sure.

This is sooooo long that I'll leave you to your imagination for how the next two hours went. The plan was to meet and hang out with the boys birth mom (oh, joy. always wanted to do that. total sarcasm) at two. After the passport office, by the way, I phoned Yana just to be certain that we understood each other completely, and told BoyOne that I would not take him to say good-bye to his mother unless he cleaned himself. I told him that out of respect for her, he needed to show her that he was going to be alright and that she had done a good job so far and that she could feel proud of him. If he chose NOT to shower, I would send Helen and driver with BoyTwo and I would stay home with BoyOne. No sweat off my back, I secretly preferred this option. I was so nervous about meeting his mom. I mean seriously, what was I supposed to do? Bounce up to her and say, "Zdrastvitye, I'm Stephanie. I'm the one that's taking your children away from you. Nice to meet you." No thanks.

So, we go back to the apartment and I walk in to use the bathroom (I know, I know, big mistake) I hear the front door open and shut. I jump off the toilet, pants not even done up and shoot right out of the bathroom. But I was too late. HE RAN AWAY, people. How many of you can say that your adopted child ran away before you even got them home?! I'm sooooooo thrilled to be the one to pave the way for all of this untouched territory. Yana and Helen were concerned. This hasn't happened for them before (meeting of the two mothers, kids running away, mom carrying a fourteen year old boy, etc.)... I told them not to worry, that he was a big boy, an orphan and everyone knows that orphans are professionals when it comes to survival. He'll be fine. I really was not concerned. Honestly I was thinking that this might really work out. I can report him as a runaway and just go back to the good ol' USA with BoyTwo. It was sounding better by the minute. I told everyone to get into the car and that we would leave to go meet their mom. "What about BoyOne?!" What about him. I don't care. This is his choice to miss out on this. Granted, I was trying to talk myself down from being liv.id because I was sure that this day was going to be so hard for him, but it wasn't working so well. My poor friend Debbie who is in another town adopting called to say hello and I said, 'Things are really bad right now! I can't talk, please pray for me and I'll call you later.' She must be really good at prayers, because right then I decided to go check one last time to see if BoyOne had come back and changed his mind. As I rounded the corner to the apartment, I saw him standing by the complex door, crying. I told him that I knew he wanted to see his mom and to please go clean himself up for her, that she wanted to see him too. And he did.

What was going on? What had just happened? I don't really know. Was it really a power struggle or was he incapable of recognizing his emotions? I think that he did not want to say good-bye to her again. I'm sure that he has always held out hope that things would work out, that she would come back for them, that life would improve, or that she would tell them that she did not want them to leave. None of that had happened, and now, at this point, it was an absolute that it was not going to. That's pretty crappy for a kid to deal with. I think I'll have to erase this post sometime, for sensitivity reasons, but if you ever need to read it or know someone else who might, you can contact me later.

I was exhausted.

We were an hour and a half late meeting his mother. Grandmother was supposed to come, but was unable to make it. Step-dad came with mom which we were all a little concerned about given the death threats BoyOne has given... But, thanks to much praying, it went really well. Bio mom had the same sentiments as I did about meeting her. I think we were both worried about the meeting and didn't know what to expect. She was very kind. She told me that she thought I would be taller. I told her I thought that she would have blue eyes. haha. I know that she loves the boys. She apologized to me for not teaching them well and for not giving them any religious instruction. She told me that she had been a bad mother. I told her that I thought she had been a good mom. That I could tell because they are good boys (I'm sure right now you are thinking, really?!). They are. Especially BoyOne. His heart is good. It's just really entangled with his past and it's having a hard time breaking through. I know that the basis she gave him in his very early years will allow him to become who he will be (who is NOT who he is now). Had she not loved him and cared for him then, he would be different. She feels so guilty for how things are with them. My heart ached for her. I'm not sure that I could raise children in her circumstances either. I have been blessed with so many other opportunities that she has not had that have allowed me to have this life. She hasn't had this same chance. I told her that I would always tell the boys that she loved them, that we are grateful to her for loving them enough to let them come with us. I promised her we would take care of them physically, emotionally, and that we would teach them about God. As if the day hadn't been emotionally trying enough by then... She and I had a little photo shoot. We took pictures with each other, with the boys, with the dad, with Helen and Yana, of the orphan dogs at McDonalds...

It was sad to know they were saying good-bye. It made me hurt to think about how much they were hurting. Hurt is a part of life unfortunately. Why some have to have so much more of it than others is a mystery to me. I like to think that before we came to earth (I believe in a premortal existence as spirits, not reincarnation) Heavenly Father knew that some of us would have really crappy lives. I think about how hard it must have been for him and Jesus to let us come here knowing all that we would go through. I think about how if I had to send my own children somewhere and I knew that there was a super hard challenge ahead, I'd send my toughest most able child to that challenge, not the one that wouldn't be able to make it. I think that He did the same. I think that He chose His strongest children to have the hardest lives. I think that He allowed some of them to volunteer for hardships and trials so that they could receive blessings from them. I know personally, when I am in the middle of something really trying (ahem... yesterday...) I feel so much more connected with my Heavenly Father and Savior. Utterly and completely alone from others in this world, and utterly and completely dependant on them. While the trial part is pretty crummy, I rest in the knowledge that they will be with me and see me through it. If I didn't have to go through anything, I wouldn't have the experiences that prove this to me. I don't think I've had a very hard life, not at all, which I sometimes wonder if it's because I'm weak and the Lord knew I couldn't handle it..., but in the few 'trials' I have had, I know that during those times I came to grow and love and know my Heavenly Father and Savior in ways that I otherwise may have missed out on, at least for the time being. Anyhow, I don't judge her. At all. I am amazed by the love a biological mother can have for her child that allows her to see beyond herself and give her child the life that she wishes she could provide for them. I don't know if I could do it. But, somebody did it for me. And I am grateful and amazed by this every day.

Anyhow, I bought everybody their books after this, at least I bought everything they had. I cleaned them out!! They remembered me at the bookstore from last time. haha. So, please, come to the airport and collect your items:) I'm not sure that I'll ever leave home again! I can't wait to get there!

After the bookstore, we rushed back to the apartment to grab our things, thank Igor and his wife for allowing us to stay in their palace, and then raced to the train. Where I cried like a baby because I had to say good-bye to a country that I have a love/hate relationship with right now, good-bye to this adventure that has taken up so much of my time this past year, good-bye to people that I have come to know and love, and good-bye to my dear friend Yana. I will miss her so, so, so much. I cried for my good-byes, I cried to release some of my pent up emotions from the day, and I cried for my boys, in particular BoyOne who was leaving behind his life as he knows it. All he has ever had, all he has ever known. As I sat with him while we cried, I wished so badly to be able to take away his hurt and his past hurts, if I could, so that we didn't even have to be here. BoyTwo doesn't have the emotional ties to his life that BoyOne does, nor does he understand the magnitude of what is happening. Tears can be healing and these ones were. Life is good. Life isn't easy, but it's going on and it will be good.

Thursday part 2

I'm all confused now. It's actually Friday here, but I got behind so yesterday's pictures and todays info is supposed to be this post. But, if I remember right, yesterday was BORING and there is really not a lot to tell.

BoyTwo had a little melt down. He went to bed quite late (10 p.m. Not really late in my book, but at the internat they have a very regimented schedule and he is usually asleep by 8:30) and woke up early. As in 6 a.m. That was pretty crappy, I'm not going to lie. I didn't go to bed until two, so his cute little face right in mine that bright and early was a bit of a bummer. Luckily, I got him to climb into bed with me for a half hour and then, somehow, I managed to keep him quiet for another two hours so that we didn't wake anyone else. Back to the melt down. That afternoon I can't remember exactly, but we were sitting in the kitchen and all of a sudden he was in tears. I held him on my lap and he sat with his arms folded and cried for several minutes. I asked him if he was tired and that totally offended him. He was so mad! He jumped off my lap, refused to look at me and told me off. Lucky for me, I have no idea what he said. When he was done with his rant, he hugged me and everything was fine again.

Around 4 I went to exchange some currency and to the grocery by my old apartment. They have a good bakery:) BoyTwo wanted to go with. About half way there I noticed he was crying again. He didn't seem mad, but tears were running down his cheeks. He was holding my hand willingly, so I couldn't figure out what was wrong. I asked if he wanted me to carry him on my back and he said no. I asked if he was alright and he said yes, but the tears continued. After about 5-10 minutes, we sat down and I asked if he was hurt or tired. He said he was tired, but he still wouldn't let me carry him. I still wasn't convinced that these tears were merely from exhaustion so I called Yana for a translation. I found out that he was crying because he thought we were lost. Poor kid. Yana reassured him that we were not lost, but almost to the store and bank. At the store he picked out a pack of gum (which by the way tastes like Halls cough drops. ew.) and gave him enough money to pay for it and let him go through the line on his own. He. was. pumped. You'd have thought he'd just won the jackpot!!

On the way home he started with his tears again. I knew he thought we were lost again and I tried to tell him we were not but I could tell he didn't believe me, so once again, I called Yana. She told him we were not lost. He didn't really believe her either. We were soon home and all was well again.

Even though we adopted biological brothers who were institutionalized at the same time, I feel that we have two different types of orphans, if you can call it that. BoyOne is the typical social orphan which is, as far as I can tell, the most prominent type in Eastern European countries. An older child who was raised with biological relatives for the early years of life and then turned over to state care. These kids have been through a lot during their time with their bio relatives, but have an idea of what it means to be a part of a family. While their manners and mannerisms are far from what we consider appropriate as Americans, in orphan life they tend to be well mannered and seem to be more socially appropriate, also fitting the mold of how we as Americans imagine an orphan to act. This type of social orphan is what I consider to be the most common in Ukraine. They are not what we as Americans picture orphans to think like, however. (deceased relatives, all on their own, dreaming of a family...) BoyTwo fits the 'American' perception of orphans as far as wanting a family and being left all on his own. Although he has living biological relatives, he has spent the majority of his life in the instituion and does not appear to have the emotional ties and connections to these living relatives that his older brother has. His manners and mannerisms are completely inappropriate by our standards and I think most people would be shocked at his behavior. (Good luck elementary school) He is 'true orphan.' We have a lot of work to do. Luckily, he is young. We have had some problems with excessive burping and farting. I HATE those two things as it is and just doing either thing one time is usually too much for me, but he is out of control. I sat him down today with Yana and laid down some ground rules.

1) No burping or farting at the table. If he does, he will be removed for the remainder of the meal to eat by himself after we have finished.

2) If he needs to burp or fart, he must do so in the bathroom. He is forcing himself to do these things. I am not at all exaggerating when I say he burps literally every thirty seconds. Big, huge, obnoxious, loud, stinky belches. It is completely inappropriate. Even here.

3) If he burps and farts at school he will not be able to go to recess.

The rest of the night was much better. I know that he does it to be funny because for some reason there are people all over the world that think that it's humorous. I think it's tacky and shows a lack of self control.

Our second incidence with him happened at the store. For whatever reason, probably because a man designed it and men do not grocery shop with their children, every grocery store I have ever been in separates their check out isles with bars. What child can pass that up?! I wouldn't have when I was little. Anyhow, BoyTwo was swinging on the bar and nailed an old lady right in her legs. I whispered in his ear to apologize. He refused based on the grounds that it was an accident. I explained that it didn't matter. When we do something to someone, with or without intentions, if we are aware, we apologize. I know this will take time. It's something that we teach our biological children from the time they are infants. It was just a prime opportunity to start right now with him. He still refused to apologize. I told him that it was his choice but that if he chose to not apologize we would sit in the car during our visit to the orphanage (story on that later) the entire time. He said fine. On our way out the door of the store, I saw the lady he had kicked and asked him one last time if he would like to apologize. He decided he would but when we approached her, he froze. Just like any other little kid would do, he was shy and felt embarrassed. But that's why I was with him! I explained to the woman that he had kicked her on accident and wished to extend an apology to her. He couldn't bring himself to do it. The old lady bent down to him and spoke softly to him and gave him a little hug and he told her sorry. She kissed his cheek and I thanked her for giving him the opportunity to apologize and she went on her way. Then we all told BoyTwo how proud we were of him and how brave he had been to apologize to a stranger. I wasn't mad at him for what he had done, but I do want him to be responsible for his actions. If it seems harsh I don't really care. I get tired of people who make pathetic apologies only to benefit themselves. You know the kind. 'I'm so sorry that you were offended by my wardrobe malfunction.' or 'I'm sorry that you misunderstood me.' What kind of crap is that?! Take ownership people. Even my biological kids do this at times and I make them do the same thing. Anyhow, it may seem like this was really intense, but it wasn't. I just really did not want to miss out on this 'learning opportunity.'

All in all, BoyTwo has had fabulous behavior. He is just like any other three year old little boy (except he's seven) with lots of energy and curiosity. He is a good boy and I love him so much. He loves having a mom. He hugs me all the time and always wants to sit by me and hold my hand. He loves being tucked in at night and saying prayers together. He is transitioning from calling me mami (russian caregiver) to mom all on his own. That kind of surprised me to hear him say just mom over here. I thought it wouldn't change until we had been home for awhile and he heard his sisters calling me mom.

More tomorrow. It's too late and I am really rambling. I may have a lot to delete when I read this tomorrow... It's all good!