Discrustradappy

Ahh, today . . . Let’s see.  Right now we’re feeling exhausted.  I just finished showering three girls, rubbing scabies cream all over two of them, sorting out pajamas and underwear, singing each child their separate lullaby, and getting them all in bed.  Of course Jasper and Ruby are still awake and listening to The Graveyard Book with us, because they’ve never heard of going to bed at the silly hour of 7:00 PM.  The other two were bushed.  And now I hear the odd sound of a new child snoring in my room—a strange and funny feeling.

Today was discouraging, frustrating, sad then happy.  At least we got them in the right order!  Discrustradappy. 

Discouragement came early as we had no where to be first thing in the morning, and Jasper and Ruby had cabin fever.  This has been a long trip for them, and I don’t blame them.  They picked at each other and fought constantly.  They kept speaking to each other in a really rude tone of voice, which I’m sure they learned from their parents, but which we hate to hear them use with each other.  I got impatient, and couldn’t seem to settle any of their issues.  I felt discouraged by the onset of real life again, and real sibling fighting, and the fact that I can never be the magic problem-solving mother I want to be, and that I know life with our new daughters will turn into this at times, too.  I also felt bad because I know I’m putting Jasper and Ruby through great emotional strain—it shows in their contrariness.  I know they will benefit so much from this in the future, and I know they’re excited now, but I also know they’re scared of losing their own places in the family, no matter what I say.  That was a badly running-on sentence, but I’m too tired to fix it.  Anyway, it’s normal—the sibling fear, not the run-on sentence.  OK, fine—maybe that is for me, too.

Frustration came next, when the embassy was much more crowded than yesterday.  We had to wait in several different lines for long periods of time and the kids were LESS than happy about it.  Jasper had refused to eat the yummy curry lunch which he insisted was too spicy, and had thus transformed into Hungrumpo Man.  It was hot.  Hot and crowded.  We seemed to be getting nowhere.  Finally, we found someone who seemed to understand our very unique predicament, and escorted us to our fingerprint appointment in another building.  That was all nice and pleasant.  But then we were told they can’t promise our fingerprints will be processed by Monday.  AAARRRGGGGHHHHHJ!!!!!  Are you KIDDING me?? 

Adoption interviews are only granted on Mondays, so if they aren’t ready by Monday we are toast.  We cannot afford, nor will our children stand, to hand around here another week.  This is not the fault of the embassy except in the fact that they are just too big and busy to give any case an individual schedule.  It is squarely the fault of our agency—both the US and Ethiopian representatives.  We could waste a lot of time getting upset about this, and we may yet.  (Dad, get your letterhead ready!)  But for now, we’re just hoping they rush it, as they said they would try, and everything works out for our appointment on Monday. 

Please, if you don’t mind, pray that it will.  We would really appreciate it.   

I used to feel a bit awkward when other families said they had not had a good experience with their agency and wouldn’t use it again.  But now I realize it’s just like saying you had a terrible natural labor, and want drugs next time.  Or had a psychedelic drug-induced labor, and want to go natural next time.  You’re still thrilled to have the baby, and have no regrets about going through the pain—you’d just do things differently next time.

Anywhat, we did have one prayer answered at the embassy.  I had been getting concerned the past couple of days that we wouldn’t be able to find church and would miss the opportunity to go while we’re here.  I had included this concern in my prayers.  On the way to the embassy we had asked Ahki and Gaetcho, who’ve never heard of the church, to help us find it.

While walking through the crowd at the embassy, I suddenly saw two grey heads and two black tags.  Yes!! It’s true!  We ACTUALLY ran into some of the only Ethiopian missionaries at the US embassy!  They have only been here a week and looked rather shell-shocked, but happy.  They told us the name of the branch and the time it started.  We thought we’d have to find it ourselves, but then ran into them again on our way out.  This is really amazing if you consider how crowded and nuts the embassy was today.  We walked out with them and they introduced us to their driver, a branch president in Addis Ababa (who looked about 16 but has already served a mission in Uganda).  We promptly introduced him to Ahki our translator, to whom the branch president gave directions to the branch.  Slick!  We are all set for Sunday, and have introduced Ahki to a local member to boot.  Things were looking up.

We then went to the orphanage to get the girls for good.  We had them change into clothes we brought so they could leave the orphanage ones for other kids, and they took us to see their bedrooms.  These were painted bright pink, and had about six bunkbed sets each.  Tinsae slept with the older girls and Birhane the younger.  This orphanage is very brightly-colored and pleasant.  We saw Tinsae’s classroom, and met one of her nannies who told us Tinsae made her look through the whole photo album several times.  She looked at Steve and said she had even seen his brother in the book.  She again said that Tinsae had asked constantly when her family would come.

We met with the nurse, who gave us T and B’s medical records and went over them with us.  I asked if all the tests were really definite, like HIV, and she looked insulted and pointed out to me that they even do the DNA test for HIV.  She also got a bit uncomfortable when I asked about Tinsae’s age, pointing out that her teeth look large for baby teeth.  She said the social worker who first investigated them in the countryside determined their age. 

They gave us the girls’ schoolwork (both very clever, the nurse said), and a nice traditional dress for each of them, and we were off.  I felt sad for them.  How do you say goodbye to everything you know?  Tinsae waved frantically at all the children she knew, on their way out of school.  I had them stop the van so she could get out and give some hugs.  She didn’t seem sad to be leaving them, rather it was more the look of “I’ve won the lottery!  Here’s my family, and I’m leaving.  Goodbye!”  We signed two copies of one piece of paper, and that was it.  We were off.  After the year of paperwork, it was hard to believe.

Then came the really sad part.  When we got to the guest home, we decided we should do the interview right away.  We have always felt that we should record Tinsae answering questions about her life before the orphanage before she got too absorbed in her new life.  We felt, and some of our research showed, that this would be very important to her when she grows up—to have some tiny insight into a forgotten childhood.  We knew the questions might be hard for her, and we asked the nurse what she thought before we left the orphanage.  She said it was important for Tinsae to talk about the past, and that they encourage it at the orphanage all the time.  That openness is one of the reasons we felt great about adopting children from this culture. 

We grabbed Ahki to translate, and figured we better get it over with right away.  We put a mic on Tinsae, knowing she speaks very softly when nervous.  I started by asking about the kind of house she lived in, and then moved on to her family.  I don’t know how much to share here, because it is her story.  Basically we learned that she loved her mother, who got sick when Birhane was born and died about a year later.  At that time she had to quit school and stay home to take care of Birhane and her brother while her dad worked.  Her dad was kind, she said.  She loved her two brothers, and misses them.  The part we really didn’t know before is that her father remarried.  The stepmother was not happy and was the reason for the relinquishing of the girls.  As Tinsae told this, I could see her eyes get very glassy.  I could see the sadness in them.  I asked one last question—was she sad to come to the orphanage.  No, she said, she was very happy.  It was better than home at that point.  I stopped the camera after that.  Tinsae started to cry.  I went over and sat by her and hugged her, and had Ahki tell her how grateful we were for her sharing this, though it was hard.  She started to sob harder.  Birhane started to sob, too, seeing her sister cry.  I started to cry too, of course.  I felt inspired to tell Tinsae, through Ahki, about how we made the decision to take them.  I hugged her and cried, and told her how the email came, and we thought and prayed all day.  I told her how at the end of the day I had suddenly had a feeling that her mother in heaven was asking us to take her girls, telling us they would make our family happy.  Then we called and accepted them right away.  This is all very personal.  I hope Tinsae, someday, won’t mind me sharing.

The room was sad and pretty quickly we decided we better get outside and have some serious play.  I thanked Tinsae again for her five minutes of difficult remembering, and we went out the door.  This is where the happy really began.  We played ball and jump-roped for an hour.  We had many really hard laughs, like when Steve was filming Birhane playing with one ball, and the other kids’ soccer ball came flying over and gave him a perfect header.  We had a genuine, great time.  We discovered that Tinsae knows a lot more English than we thought.  She can be a bit of a translator herself.  We had a good dinner—Orange Fanta familiar, Sprite quite a shocker!—and then it was shower time.  I had had Ahki warn them about this because I didn’t want them to feel scared.  I also had him tell them I would have to rub scabies cream all over them.  They loved the shower.  Lot’s of screams, which I think came from the warm water, believe it or not.  After I washed them all, head to toe, they then proceeded to re-wash themselves several times—funny.  At this rate we’ll go through a lot of body wash!  I still have a lot to learn about hair—and so do the girls.  I had a new experience washing theirs, and they both wanted to experiment with mine. 

One of the best parts of the night was that I finally got to sing that favorite lullaby to them, the one that is only for adopted children and that I’ve been saving all my life.  Yes, (Emily R), from The Rescuers.  The gist of it is something like:

Be brave, little one.  Make a wish for each sad, little tear.  Hold your head up, though no one is near.  Someone’s waiting for you.  Don’t cry little one.  Make a smile where a frown used to be.  You’ll be part of the love that you see.  Someone’s waiting for you. 

Always keep a little prayer in your pocket, and you’re sure to see it start.  Soon there’ll be joy and happiness and you, little one, will be part. 

Be brave, little one.  Till your hopes, and your wishes come true.  You must try to be brave, little one.  Someone’s waiting to love you. 

Choosing laughter and hope in the face of sadness and loneliness seems, to me, to be true bravery.  How lucky am I to have such brave little girls.  And, such bravery from Jasper and Ruby for welcoming them. 

Gosh, I’m sappy tonight.  These are the things that, for me as a writer, are much easier to share in words than in person.  Allow me, just once in a while.

Lest you think I’m being selfish:  I asked if Steve wanted to add his own post and he declined.  He did say,

“I agree with everything you said.  I would add that, although the experience has been very calm and surprisingly easy with the girls, I felt a surprising flood of emotion at the orphanage today which I was not expecting.  I suddenly felt overwhelming gratitude to the nurses and doctors and teachers, and even the housekeepers and guards, at the orphanage for how well them seemed to know and care about these two little orphan girls.  As we thanked them, both in their language and ours, I wanted it to feel like the most heartfelt thanks I could give.  The only way I could do that was to offer their traditional greeting of touching cheek to cheek, hoping that would communicate my sincerity.  While I thought I would feel those kind of emotions sooner—say, the first time we met the girls—it was realizing they were saying goodbye to the people who had shown them true love that they needed it most that brought the lump to my throat.  It was so thrilling to see Tinsae continuing to look out the window for anyone she knew so she could wave excitedly at them.  As we looked through the photo album in the car, the one we had sent the girls a few weeks ago, it was clear they had every photo memorized.  Birhane pointed at the picture of herself and said, ‘Good photo.  Good photo.’  Speaking of other funny things Birhane has said so far, when we were outside an airplane flew overhead.  We pointed and said, ‘airplane.’  But Birhane needed no help.  She was already yelling, ‘Ethiopian Airlines!  Ethiopian Airlines!’  Bottom line, I was struck with wondering how do you help them understand how much we want to help them.  Especially during the brief interview today, when I got back from getting another camera battery and found the mood in the room heavy and everyone crying, including Birhane, I just wanted them to know we would comfort them.  I hope they see that, just like we hug Jasper and Ruby when they cry, we’ll hug Tinsae and Birhane when they cry.

Like I said, I don’t have anything to add.”

Thanks for all the comments.  They mean the world to us.  It’s been a challenge to find the time and means to blog everyday from Ethiopia, but I’m very grateful I’ve made the effort. This is one of the only important times in my life when I haven’t felt guilty for not recorded more about it. Thanks for encouraging me, everyone.

First, a few notes to add to previous posts:

Photos
Often we are not able to add photos to the blog till after I write, because they take FOREVER (as in go cook dinner and come back!) to upload here. So be sure to check the last couple of posts for photos added after the fact.


2. Vomit and Gaetcho
I can’t believe I forgot to mention yesterday that Jasper vomited—ROYALLY—in the van yesterday morning. He had taken his malaria meds about 20 minutes before breakfast, and they are pretty rotten on an empty stomach. He felt fine till he’d finished his whole plate of scrambled eggs, then suddenly thought maybe he’d eaten too fast. We got in the van to head to the airport and pick up our luggage. Jasper was lying down because he didn’t feel good, and we were pretty much ignoring him and telling him he’d be fine. All of a sudden he sat up and spewed all over the floor of the van. It was so powerful it even hit Steve’s shoulder and Ruby’s hair, two rows ahead. I yelled at Gaetcho to pull over, which he did immediately to an angry honk. Jasper hopped out of the car and proceeded to throw up three more times. Afterward he felt great, of course.

We had to go straight on to the airport, where Gaetcho (pronounced Gay-Cho) had no way to clean out the van. We then went to the embassy, and returned immediately because they were closed, so Gaetcho again had no chance to clean out the van. Finally, while we were meeting the girls at the orphanage, Gaetcho went somewhere and hosed it out (that’s how they clean cars at the car wash here—routinely hose out the entire interior. Perhaps you should try it at Jolley’s Car Wash, Williams?). Luckily, it wasn’t very smelly. We apologized all over ourselves and offered to clean it, but Gaetcho refused.

Then, at our next stop, the Internet Café for blogging, there was no room for the kids to stand inside with us. Gaetcho ended up tended our kids out in the waiting area (with 7ups) for an hour. This is not his job—he is just the driver. But our translator/host had not been able to make it yesterday. By the end of the day, we had dragged Gaetcho around for 7 hours. Throughout that whole time, we peppered him with a gazillion questions while he drove—translation and otherwise. Mom and Dad, you know me and my tremendous ability to berate people with questions. Well, I’m so curious I can’t resist being in top form here. Abebe, the lawyer, got very frustrated with me yesterday and told me not to pester him. As if I don’t have a right to understand my own adoption?! Anyway, Gaetcho bore the brunt. Though you don’t have to at this guest house, we ended up giving Gaetcho a 100 Birr tip. That’s only about 8 dollars. And Ethiopia is not as cheap as you’d think—today I spent more on a couple interim outfits for the girls than I would have at Target. Oh, well. Any-anyway, tonight we found out Gaetcho’s wife of 27 years died five years ago, of liver cancer. She was only ill for 20 days. He misses her very much. It was very sad to hear about. He is really a great person. Our experience here would be very different without such people to trust.



Long Live King Charles
I forgot to mention yesterday that I made sure I wore Charles’ necklace to meet the girls, just so we’d all be there for the event. This is a necklace put together from a locket my cousin Jenny gave me after Charles’ death, and a silver plate with his name and birth date my sister Rachel gave me after his death. They make a very lovely necklace together. I noticed the girls looking at it and playing with it yesterday, so today I had Ahki explain to them what it meant. I could tell that Ahki said, “So really there are five in your new family.”


Brother
It probably will never come to anything, but I did tell Abebe yesterday that we would like to know if Tinsae and Birhane’s brother is ever given up by his father. Their paperwork lists two brothers, about 14 and 7. The older is mostly independent I’m sure, but we wondered if the 7 year old may someday be relinquished like the girls. Just in case, we wanted to make sure we would be notified if it ever happened.


Today, Tuesday

Last night as I lay in bed I felt that emotional exhaustion that I always feel when I move, or plan a big party, or accept a new job, or have a new pregnancy, or anything big. After the adrenaline wears off, I think, “Nevermind. That was fun idea, but I don’t want to do it anymore.” I used to entertain these thoughts and freak out a bit, but I have learned over the years, with Steve’s help, to ignore those feelings until the morning. I felt that way last night. But sure enough, I didn’t feel it when we saw the girls again today. I felt comfortable and whelmed again. (I mean that I no longer felt overwhelmed, but I certainly wasn’t feeling underwhelmed. It was just good. So, whelmed.)

We started bright and early because Abebe said we should meet him at the embassy at 9:00. This time it was open and he tried to explain our situation in Amharic. It clearly wasn’t going well, so I stepped in and explained in English, and the woman understood fine and answered that another division would have to take our fingerprints. So, we made an appointment for tomorrow at 1:30. Yes, a third trip to the embassy but at least this time it is a real appointment. I believe our wish of being fingerprinted will finally come true tomorrow. Have you all ever been to a US embassy before? I hadn’t but I’ve read several instances in books of Americans abroad fleeing to the US embassy for safety. I don’t know if you really could run in for safety because you have to pass single-file through a couple layers of metal detectors and guards. But once you’re in, it is an odd feeling to be escorted past all the waiting crowds right inside and to the front because you are a US citizen. It makes that navy blue passport feel like gold. I was going to post all my great photos of the embassy, but since it’s illegal to photograph it they confiscated my camera and crushed it into a million pieces. I’ll have to try again tomorrow.

(It’s also illegal to photograph the prime minister’s—formerly Haile Salassie’s—palace, but not the airport. When we landed KLM told us it was illegal to photograph the Addis Ababa airport. Our Ethiopian friends found this very funny.)

Anywhich, we were once again out of the embassy with lightning speed, so we headed straight to the orphanage. We picked up the girls, looking adorable and Tinsae with fresh braids in her hair, in a very nice sitting room. Apparently, this is where families usually meet their kids—more like we’d imagined. Yesterday another family was in the room and that necessitated our cramped office meeting. We had planned to keep the kids for just a couple hours, but this clearly made no efficient sense to Ahki from a driving point of view, so we ended up having them from 11:00-4:45. Ahki had a point—it’s a half hour each way at least to the orphanage, so visits entail a lot of wasted time and gas, and the kids don’t have to be returned until 5:00 PM.

This turned out to be a great, long visit. We first took the girls shopping for a couple of extra things because it’s clear we’re going to have them with us for more than the few days we thought. I think this was a bit overwhelming but also fun for them. Birhane gave us a very pleasant surprise when, after not speaking at all yesterday, she suddenly said “Thank you” very clearly—in English! She had obviously just picked it up and decided to try it out. She had no accent. Kids are really amazing with language. Tinsae also said “Jasper” and “Yes” in English today, which was great because we constantly say “Ow”—“Yes” in Amharic—to her, so she knows we understand it. We were very excited they were attempting so soon.


Our visit was, again, very easy. We don’t want to be naïve about the future, but so far this is going so smoothly it’s amazing. The only thing that has stressed me is the embassy! We showed them the clothes we brought for them, which Tinsae them folded and put away ever so carefully. Obviously, you don’t want to send them back to the orphanage with anything as no other kids have their own things.

We painted toenails, read books, played outside, and had nap time (this is part of the girls’ routine at the orphanage, and when we showed them the bed they got right in and went to sleep). The highlight of the day was definitely when we went outside to “show” Tinsae and Birhane how to jumprope. (Sara and Dave, the Habitat trip wasn’t a waste after all—the jumpropes have been priceless.) Jasper and Ruby made a few awkward jumps, and then I took a turn showing. Tinsae looked on with a pleasant smile. We then handed her the rope to try it, and she proceeded to skunk us all! She jumproped on one foot, then the other, then skipping, then backwards, then off a step—she’s a pro! She had a 1000-watt smile, the brightest I’ve ever seen from her. It was absolute heaven to see her delight at showing us something she is great at—something that transcends the language barrier. She and Ruby jumproped forever while Jasper and Birhane played football (soccer). That girl can throw. She would have delightedly retrieved Jasper’s kicks all day. Those two have definitely hit it off and are two peas in a pod.

We also gave the girls blow-pops, worrying they might choke on the gum. What were we thinking? Tinsae blew bubbles like a pro. This Ruby thought extremely cool.

Another highlight was watching them devour with their eyes the little kids books we’ve brought. A favorite was the board book with the caterpillar that you can stick your finger in and wiggle. Both girls had to look at the back of the book to see how the caterpillar was moving.

They came up and asked me if I wanted a massage at 2:30 because it comes with the stay. I was worried about leaving Steve alone with all the kids, but he encouraged me to go. Of course he was a pro—nobody missed me and I was glad the girls got a chance to bond with him. They’ll have plenty of me when we get home and Steve has to dig out from work.

During that hour we were apart, Steve and I both came to the same decision: we should forget about going siteseeing up North, and take the girls permanently tomorrow. It’s what the kids want, it’s what the orphanage wants, and it’s what makes sense. We weren’t going to take them for good (ie. Permanently with us at the guest house) until next week, but it’s not being as hard as we thought. What does seem hard is driving to the orphanage to visit everyday, or telling them we won’t be there one day while we sight-see. So, we’ll just take them with us and see things that we can drive to, and not fly up north. We may leave two weeks in Ethiopia without seeing its most famous and beautiful city, but we’ll definitely have had our own authentic kind of Ethiopian experience. Also, saving on the airfare will—once again—free up some cash. Jasper has been wanting a flat screen TV in our hotel room. I’ve been wanting a toilet that can handle toilet paper.

Speaking of toilet paper, we went to a very nice restaurant tonight because Jasper was homesick and we knew we could get French Fries there. The bathrooms in this nice restaurant had no seats on the toilet! I have seen both the ditches over which you squat and the toilets, but never something in between. The seats had both been purposely removed, and I wasn’t about to sit on the bowl. Such a contradiction at such a nice restaurant—the orphanage has a better bathroom!

Another highlight of today was having crystal clear phone calls with both my mom and sister Rachel, who both happened to call while we were downtown. The signal is great there, and poor at the guesthouse. Great timing, guys. Afternoons and evenings are the best time to catch us in town. Tomorrow we’ll be there about 4 PM, and Thursday we’re going to dinner downtown.

Thanks Elizabeth and Sara for calling also.  Though you can't hear us very well, we still love hearing you.

UP NEXT:
Tomorrow we will finally be fingerprinted at the embassy at 1:30. Then we’ll head to the orphanage by 3:30 for a meeting to go over the girls’ medical records. Then we’ll bring them back with us and, what? I guess, be a family forever.

Welcome to Our World, Little Girls!

All of a sudden and very casually, after a two year process, we met our new daughters today.  I say all of a sudden because we drove to the orphanage, sat casually in the office with our lawyer, and suddenly there they were, walking in the door with one of the orphanage managers.  As of this month, because of swine flu, you can no longer tour the orphanage or see the other children.  So, Tinsae and Birhane walked casually up to us with their nanny.  They were lovely, shy, but very smiley, and small.  Tinsae is a bit taller than Ruby, but she feels very slight to hug--very petite.  Birhane is a small little bundle.  They are clean, healthy, and--we were told--very excited and impatient for our arrival.  They have the photo album we sent and have loved it.  There wasn't too much to say, though we did make small talk through the attorney.  We took pictures, and just enjoyed each other for a few minutes.

When it was time to go, Ruby was tearing up and rooted herself to the ground.  She refused to leave them.  So, we took them back to our guest home with us for lunch.  Then we played magnetic paper dolls (thanks, Virginia!) in our room for a while.  It was clear they were very tired, because 12-3 is their nap time and we took them right in the middle.  When we took them back, we hugged them a lot and made sure it was clearly explained to them that we would return again tomorrow. 

Jasper and Ruby felt very comfortable, and seemed completely pleased and non-plussed by the whole affair.  Ruby told me the happiest thing in her life was getting sisters.  She also said she was a bit sad she couldn't lay on my lap anymore.  I assured her that there would always be room there for her.  She and Tinsae sat by each other and smiled and motioned to each other the whole time.  Tinsae liked to touch Ruby's hair, and mine.  Jasper loved entertaining them with his DS.  They loved to draw and take photos on it.

Steve and I keep commenting to each other how difficult it is to describe this moment.  As I said, it feels much calmer and more casual than you might expect.  It's easy to take it slow, and we plan to for the next several days and weeks.  There is a great calm, though.  I don't feel the way some do that these girls feel they have been my children forever, but then they don't feel like unnatural strangers, either.  I think it's quite like having a new baby--you don't know them, but you're ready to, and ready to learn to love them, and it all feels good.  And you feel you need one good, long nap.  Steve feels as tired today as he has in a long while.

After staying up late to settle finally on names, we decided it would be silly to mention anything about that today to the girls.  There's already so much for them to take in, so much confusion, and it's all so hard to understand.  We didn't want to uproot their identity any more.  We'll call them Tinsae and Birhane until it feels natural to introduce their new names--Saffron and Willa.  We gave them necklaces with a T and a B on them and since Tinsae has pierced ears, she wore the matching earrings too.  We also had a necklace for Ruby with an R on it.  Jasper was relieved we had a camo watch for him rather than another necklace.

Here's what happens next:  the embassy was closed today for Columbus Day (of all things!), so we were turned away and have to return tomorrow.  Yes, Abebe clearly did not make an appointment for us.  So tomorrow at 9:00 AM we'll go get fingerprinted.  Wednesday at 3:00 PM we'll meet with the orphanage nurse and go over the girls' medical files.  We may travel to the north to sightsee for a day Thursday-Friday, then be back for the weekend.  We want to take the girls to church on Sunday, and then our official adoption interview at the US Embassy is next Monday, October 19 (our anniversary).  Wednesday the 21st the girls' US entry visas should be ready.  We then will check with the British consulate to see if the girls need British visas for our overnight stay in London.  We're not sure.  If so, those should be done by Friday.  We leave Saturday evening, October 24th.

In the meantime, we  could take the girls permanently now if we wanted to.  They are ours.  We just feel it would be better to take things slow, keep visiting, and take them overnight on the weekend or beginning of next week.  But once you take them overnight, you keep them permanently--it's just too hard on them otherwise.  They worry about abandonment.  It is possible, especially if we don't need British visas, that we could leave earlier than Saturday.  However, we think the flight change fees would be cost prohibitive.  We'll most likely stick around here no matter what.  There is plenty to see around Addis.

Thanks, everyone for your support.  We love you.  It feels like the end of a long journey, and the beginning of a new one.  It feels good.

FINALLY here!

Hi All,

I’m not able to log in to my blog, or do much at all online.  So, I’m writing this update email to Sara and asking her to post it for me.  I also can’t get into my mac mail, so please email me at emilymabey@gmail.com.  We’d love to hear from anyone, and should be able to check our email almost every night.  Steve is also not getting work email right now, so this is probably the best way to contact him until further notice.

For phone contact, we have a temporary cell phone with the number: 251-910-103-882.  (251 is the country code)  You can purchase an inexpensive phone card by following the link on our guest home’s website, Ethiopiaguesthome.com.  Their phone number is:  251-114-198-367.  Steve’s phone seems to work fine, though it is very expensive.  Feel free to call his cell number for a very quick message, or for emergencies.  Well.  Now all of that’s out of the way.  The time here is 9 hours ahead of Utah.

It’s always very frustrating to me that I have many emotions and impressions I’d like to record, running through my mind all the time like a continual blog or journal entry.  By the time I get a chance to record them, however, the time is short and most of the thoughts have faded, and something less than short hand is what comes out.  Oh well.

It was hard to leave England.  Steve had a teary moment Saturday night while we were packing, and I cried as we drove away from Sara’s cottage in the middle of the night.  After a blissful two weeks in England, we were hit by the many big things this small departure meant.

The first layer of emotion is that it’s hard to leave Sara and Dave.  We love our time with them, and feel such a closeness with them in England because of the year our two families spent there together.  They saw us at our very worst, and spent too much time with us for us to keep up our usual façade of non-chalance.  This was very much like old times, except with the addition of charming Harriet, and the much older children who have stepped in to replace the little Jasper and Ruby who lived with us in London.  Still, though, if you think about it there are few times in life when you can visit someone five years later and not have new children with you—because we’ve had this six-year gap after Ruby, things felt eerily the same.

Therefore, part of our feeling was that, besides leaving Sara and Dave and England, we were leaving our life of many years—Emily and Steve with two kids—to become a completely new family.  On top of that, we were leaving a place where you get to put your toilet tissue in the toilet (albeit that whoosing British toilet) for one where you have to put it in the waste basket.  Oh well.

One of my chief complaints in life is that there is never enough time to grieve.  In that way (only) real life is so unlike the movies.  I never get to do the Angelina Jolie ‘cry, lean against the wall, then slide down slowly, sobbing.’  Instead, I started to cry as we pulled away, and after about 30 seconds the kids were fighting over who got to put their head down on the console in the back seat.  After 60 seconds, Steve needed help navigating from Besselsleigh to Heathrow Airport.  The Noive!  I remember this feeling with Charles, too—just when I would start to feel something really powerfully, I would have to gather myself to meet a doctor, or answer the door, or mediate a sibling dispute, or to smile for someone who REALLY wanted me to feel happy.  Then, later, when I had time and wanted to let loose those feelings, they just wouldn’t come in quite the same way.  I realize those moments of being forced to go on are what get us through life.  In fact, I guess they are MOST of what makes up life.  Still, though, I don’t think it’s good to have to keep turning off the spigot.  It’s like those polite but annoying people who stifle their sneezes over and over again.  Just let it out, already!!  Oh well.

OH—WAIT—I’m sorry.  Did some of you want to hear about ETHIOPIA?  Yes, then let’s.  So we packed Saturday night, October 9, until 1 AM.  We then lay down for an hour in which Steve stole a few winks and I none (Yeah, right—one hour, with a big day to follow, for someone with insomnia?  Not a recipe for sleep.)  Of course the kids had been asleep for hours.  We pulled away from Sara’s at 2:45 AM.  We’d left plenty of time but ended up barely having enough because when we got to the car rental return busses to the airport weren’t even running yet.  Our plane departed for Amsterdam at 6:45 AM.  In Amsterdam we made a quick transfer to our next flight.  Unfortunately, our largest suitcase didn’t (make it).  From Amsterdam we flew to Khartoum (Sudan), and then on to Addis Ababa.  The sunset in Khartoum as we took of was beautiful—like nothing I’ve ever seen.  It was layers of red and orange, looking more like a glorious sandstorm than a sunset.

We arrived in Addis about 8:30 PM.  We waited in a long line to get visas on arrival, and then a long line for customs.  Understandably, the kids were very grumpy.  One of the best things I’ve done this trip is bring a huge amount of yummy protein bars.  These have already come in very handy, and worked wonders at the airport last night, and today when meal time wasn’t a great success.  Those were money well spent.

After reporting our missing bag, we met Ahki, and very kind and patient man from the guesthouse who had been waiting for us for hours.  Ah-kee is a translator for Ethiopia Guest Home, and picked us up with Gaetcho, our driver.  On our way to the car, I chatted with a very nice woman from our flight.  She is Dutch, and was adopted from Ethiopia when she was five years old.  Some of you may know the famous chef, Marcus Something, who was also adopted from Ethiopia by a Dutch family.  I think there clearly must have been a Dutch program about 20 years ago.  Anyway, this woman was wonderful and very encouraging.  She said she was adopted by a family who already had three children, and it has been a wonderful experience for her.  She was here to visit her Dutch sister, who is working for a time.   She said the hardest thing is that when she comes, people expect her to speak Amharic and she has no clue!  She has learned to say, “English Only.”  I thought it was really nice that when I asked her where she was from she said both the Netherlands and Ethiopia.

We were in bed close to midnight, and thankfully got a great night of sleep.  We were quite miserable with exhaustion last night, so this was much needed.  I think coming from England is great, because we don’t have jet lag like many families do.  Another great travel tip:  I placked flat sheets from home to put above and below us inside the regular bed sheets, and our own pillowcases.  This guest home is very clean and has no bed bugs, but I think I slept better just for the peace of mind, and for having something familiar.  Like my mom, I have an extremely sensitive nose.   Foreign countries, including England, always have a myriad of unfamiliar smells that can make it hard to nestle in for sleep.  That’s part of the reason the smell of your own sheets can help.

As I said, we are staying at Ethiopia Guest Home.  This was not our original plan, but was a place we discovered the night before we left.  It is only one year old, and is run by a previous adoptive father who thought there was a need for specific services for adoptive families.  Therefore, as part of your stay at the guesthouse, you get a driver and translator who will take you anywhere (extra trips have a reasonable $10/hour fee), and translate for you and your new children, and nannies who can watch your children if you want to go out.  They will really do anything for you—they’ve agreed to teach me to do braids.  You also get breakfast and lunch included.  There are several other services, like inexpensive laundry so you can take home all clean laundry, and a free massage for every adoptive parent.  Other adoptive families will probably want to know that we’re paying $127/night for the family suite.  As I said, that includes many services and two meals, so turns out to be a great deal.  The greatest thing about the guest home is that you don’t tip any individuals—you leave one big tip for the staff at the end, if you want.  In a place where everyone is constantly trying to do some service for you to get a big tip, this is a huge relief.  The airport employee tried to get me to give him $10 for pushing my luggage cart a few feet.  When I didn’t have a ten, he wanted $20!  I said No, I would never even pay that in the States.  I am very grateful we found this place and can already see how we’re benefitting.  Today we talked to Ahki and Gaetcho about our the orphanage attorney, who worries us.  They said they are very familiar with his ways, and can help us deal with him.

We weren’t able to make it to church today, but should be able to find it by next week.  There is a fly crawling across the computer screen.  We had a very nice day, though.  We went out on our balcony about 11 AM, and saw two kids next door to the guest home waving at us.  They were playing in the yard next to a sheet metal home.  Jasper yelled, “Yenae sim Jasper no.”  And the girl yelled back in English, “My name is Radit.”  Before we knew it Ruby had asked them if they wanted to play football.  We have very friendly kids.  Radit is twelve and her brother, Robin, is ten.  We went over to their yard and the kids had a great time playing soccer.  These kids were good!  They played with rocks as goals, on a tiny plot on a steep hill.  The laundry was out hanging, and I at least had the wash bucket moved so we wouldn’t spoil their mother’s washing.  When it started to rain, she invited us in to the house.  Her name is Dinkesh.  She doesn’t speak any English, though her kids understand a good deal.  They begin teaching it in school here in first grade.  It was lovely to visit with them.  The house was tiny and dark, two rooms, with an old sofa and chairs, and a mattress on the floor.  They had a tv on.  It was a wonderful way to start our trip, and Ruby wants to play with them every day.  The kids at the market across the street were also yelling hello and blowing us kisses, so we went over and said hi.  They were very smiley and said, “I love you!”  We are determined to learn a few more phrases so we can speak to the children.  This guest home may not be on Bole Road, the center of town and action, but I think it’s better to be out where you can meet the neighbors.

Abebe Guta, the lawyer, came to meet us this morning, which very pleasantly surprised us.  He says we’ll go to the embassy tomorrow to be fingerprinted.  It was unclear whether he’s ever talked to them or they’re planning on us, so we’ll cross our fingers.  We won’t actually have our official adoption interview until next Monday, the 19th.  Tomorrow is just fingerprints.

After the embassy (and picking up our bag from the airport), Mr. Guta says we can go to the orphanage and see the girls.  I thought there must be some official time for first meeting so they can prepare for you, but it sounds like there isn’t.  I guess this is actually a good sign—that they are not afraid to have you drop in on them unannounced.  Ahki says Toukoul is a very nice, very large orphanage.  Here they all think of it as a French orphanage, as it is run by a French couple.

I really hope we will be able to see the girls, since we’ve been promised. Our kids will be very disappointed if we don’t.  I just worry they’re not expecting us, because we’re here a week before our embassy date.  We originally came early because we were going to travel around Ethiopia for a week.  We’ve had to cancel that tour, however, because we’ve become so cash crunched.  We’ll still travel around plenty and maybe even fly to the north, but it will be much cheaper to do less, and to do it on our own.  Freeing up that money has made us much less stressed about the day to day expenses.  However, it makes us very unsure about this week—how will it be to meet the girls two weeks before we can take them home?  Will it make it really hard on them, or on us, to have it be so long?  Will we feel we need to visit every day?  Will we want to?  But we never do things typically, do we.  Oh, well. I’m sure it will work out.

So, we’re preparing for tomorrow.  We’re thinking of dressing up a bit, and we have some necklaces for the girls with their Amharic initials.  No, we haven’t decided on our second name for sure yet.  I know!  I know!  We’re trying.  Sara helped a lot.  No one will like the names we choose, anyway, so just don’t worry about it. J  We’ll take all our camera equipment, and hope to get it on film.  I’m really glad our own translator will be with us.

As far as photos go, I really want to post some—and post some of the girls tomorrow.  But this computer (I’m using the guest home’s) won’t read my SD card.  I’ll try an Internet café, maybe tomorrow night.  I’ll really try to get some.  Otherwise, if my phone ever gets service I can take photos with that and email them.

I’m really sorry it’s been so choppy for those who have called our cell phone.  We love you and SOO appreciate your calls.  Try again tomorrow.  If you catch us in town, it might be better.

We love you all.  We can’t believe we’re finally here.  Love.

This post is brought to you by the number 16, as in about 16 hours until we meet our daughters.  Just like one of my long labors!

(NEXT DAY:  we have been able to post some photos with this entry now, so enjoy!)

Yes, those are cows in the middle of the highway!

Forget "the dog ate my homework"--"the bird ate your dog" could be worse.

Our poor little dog, Mabey, has never managed to grow beyond 4.5 lbs.  She's getting the royal treatment while we're gone, staying at three different homes where she is, of course, being coddled.  Still--she remains tiny.  Apparently, her size could get her in trouble.  We really chuckled as we read the following email from our good neighbors who tended her for the first 10 days.

"We thought we let you know of a kind of 'funny/oh my goodness' experience we had with your pooch this afternoon. 

We were enjoying the nice afternoon, sitting in the backyard, not doing much.  When all of a sudden, a Gray Hawk(or so we think it was after looking up bird pictures on the internet) swooped in and perched about 20 feet over our heads into the middle Ash tree in front of us.  'How Cool!' we thought and then it flew over a few branches over and perched again.  As it landed on the other branch, Teresa could see out of the corner of her eye, 'Mabey', right below where the bird landed.  She excitedly exclaimed, "Mabey!!!".  Immediately, it was a race to scoop her up just in case the bird had the same idea.

Mabey is safe and sound in the house now and doing wonderfully, skillfully avoiding Abbie's loving arms.

We thought you might get a kick out of this as we've never seen a hawk in the backyard before.  Kind of strange and probably not coincidental that we saw it back there.  I doubt it would have actually tried, probably just sizing her up.

Take Care and enjoy your trip.

We'll keep our eyes to the sky when Mabey is out.

P.S.  We now think it was a Peregrine Falcon."

Contact has been made!

The following email is from a kind parent from our adoption agency who returned from picking up her baby in Ethiopia a couple weeks ago.  She offered to take something for us, so we sent a photo album of our home and family, and two stuffed animals.  It sounds from her email like the girls have definitely been told about us.  It's very exciting to hear of some actual contact.  They start to feel real!

"Emily,

I hope you are doing well!   I am just now getting back to e-mail after our return.  We had such a wonderful trip to Ethiopia.  I actually cried when we left.  We just fell in love with it!

I want to let you know that there was some confusion regarding the gifts we brought for your children.  We were told to leave them in the office.  I checked the next day to be sure that Tinsae and Birhane received them.  But the stuffed animals were brought to the general donations despite having referral numbers on them.  I am so sorry.  I don't know exactly where the miscommunication happened.  But I did make sure that they received the photo album.  As we worked through the language barrier they reassured me the children did, in fact, receive the photo album.  Because of the lost stuffed animals, we went out and bought new ones for your children.  They should have received them the second time around.  Again, I am so sorry for the miscommunication.  We asked to see your children but we were told they were at Immigration that day.  But we did get some wonderful footage at the orphanage of the girls dancing in the tradition of the Ethiopian New Year.  I thought your daughter might be in it.  It is precious!  When we get more organized, I will send it your way!"

Mythes and Legends

There is a book called The Lost Villages of England, but I doubt Mythe, Dorset is in it.  Mythe is likely too lost, and was never enough a village, to attract anyone's notice.  Mythe is nothing more than the ruins of a couple of cottage walls hidden amidst the nettles on the edge of the woods, down the gentle green hill dotted with pheasants, past the shepherd's cottage, and along the old footpath from the village of Mapperton.  Mapperton itself is a tiny village, comprised only of a few cottages, a school house, a church, and Mapperton House: the modest country home of Lord Sandwich. 

For me and an Englishwoman named Sally Beadle, however, Mythe was the motherload.  Mythe (pronounced with a long "i" sound) is the tiny spot from whence both our families sprang.  William and Sarah Mabey lived and raised their 12 children at Mythe.  Two of their middle children, Thomas and Eliza, are mine and Sally's ancestors, respectively.  Thomas and his family eventually joined the LDS Church and emigrated to America, while Eliza married Isaiah Thomas and stayed in Dorset. 

At the time of the 1841 census, there were about eight families living at Mythe.  As we stood amongst the rubble of this old hamlet, Sally pointed out that it's probably one of the few places on earth quieter now than it was 150 years ago.

Sally found me online several months ago.  My dad had asked me to find some new Mabey names for him, and I found it easiest to bypass software and build my tree right on Ancestry.com.  A couple of months into my search I got an email from the Online Parish Clerk (pronounced "Clark") of Dorset England.  She asked if I was willing to be contacted by an individual interested in my family tree, and the rest is history.  This relationship has definitely been to my benefit more than Sally's,  as she has added much more to the family tree than I have.  In my defense, Sally lives right in the shadow of the original family villages.  Her branch of the family never left Dorset.  Her findings and friendship have been a great boon to me. 

It just so happened that when we met I was just a few months away from this planned trip to England.  So this week my sister Sara and I, our husbands, and our children, met Sally and her family in Dorset to tour the old villages.  Sally and her husband Alan and mother Bettie were delightful and energetic hosts.  They cooked mountains of delicious food for us (what you've heard about English food does not apply to home-cooking) including high tea.  They took us on a dizzying tour of winding lanes and tiny villages, and on that priceless walk to Mythe.  Sally's knowledge of the area is truly a gift.  She knows more about these small hidden hamlets than most locals because she rode the lanes on horseback for years.  Many of us may have the same pieces of family information, but I believe Sally is the only one who can connect all the dots.  We can't lose her.

I've never previously been one of those who people who wanted to search far and wide for gravestones.  But finding these villages really meant something to me.  I've spent three years working on Our Father's House, my great-grandfather's book about this family, and I feel very connected to them.  I feel I know them as intimately as I can for not knowing them, and even have felt their support in my life or research at times.  Still, at Mythe I felt the vast chasm between my life and theirs--I couldn't fathom the kind of life they would have lived there, and I'm sure they couldn't imagine mine now.  Yet it really is just raising kids, supporting your family, and trying to find joy along the way, isn't it.  I  felt something powerful at Mythe.  I'll never forget it.  Sally, I'm forever grateful to you for connecting me to the physical past of my family, and for keeping their stories alive.

Mythe

Much Obliged, Mr. Coram

Thomas Coram was a Londoner who couldn't just stand by.  A modern, enlightened Westerner would be grossly shocked by one aspect in particular of the eighteenth-century version of the city:  abandoned children found at an alarming rate around town.  In England at that time babies were abandoned because prostitutes couldn't care for them, and because women of repute couldn't have their scandulous pregnancies found out by trying to give the baby to someone who might care for them.  Older children were left to fend for themselves when their parents died.

Thomas Coram's repulsion at the sight of hopeless children in Europe's greatest city eventually became his quest to open a foundling home for them.  His home for foundling children cared for hundreds of children into the twentieth century.  It was sponsored by the likes of George Frederick Handel.  Coram's home had large, beautiful grounds for the children to play on.  In the years since the closure of Coram's home, those grounds have become one of the greatest children's parks in London.  Coram's Fields was only a five-minute walk from our flat and was, in fact, the very reason we searched for a flat in that neighborhood.  I discovered it one early day while Steve was in class, and knew it would be the key to a successful year with a rambunctious boy in a crowded city. 

When we finally made it to Coram's Fields this trip on our last evening in London , I felt like I had come home.  I believe it was as much home to me as my flat.  The kids immediately ran to the zipline, and I walked around the old sycamore trees, and remembered how many times this place had saved me from insanity.  I had always been enamored of the story of Coram--of the goodness of Mr. Coram, and the many lives he rescued in his foundling home.  As my children played there five years ago, I often found myself thinking of the orphans who would have played on those very grounds two hundred years ago.  This time, I was struck by the irony of me being back there, with my children, on my way to make a home for some orphans of my own.  I realize I'm becoming quite sentimental, but I felt a great gratititude and respect for Mr. Coram.  His was one more story that inspired me to foster my thoughts of adoption, and his fields were a saving grace--a haven for me and my children.

So I felt I should declare it publically.  Much obliged, Mr. Coram.

Happy Birthday to You, Your Husband Loves You, You Asked for a Banjo, and He Gave You One, Too

We are staying with my sister and her husband, Sara and Dave, in their quaint little cottage in Besselsleigh, England.  (Check out their blog in our highlights on the right.)  Friday was Sara's 30th birthday. 

One of my favorite things about Sara is that she's the type to ask for a banjo for her birthday, with no previous stringed instrument experience.

One of my favorite things about her husband Dave is that he's the type to get it for her.

Happy Birthday, Sara!

London Snaps

One of my favorite London jokes came from the mouth of Jimmy Kimmel, or maybe Craig Ferguson. He said something like, "I just returned from my vacation in London. At the airport on my way out, I stopped at the desk and said, 'Can I have my vacation snaps now?'" All of England--every inch--is monitored by the government's CCTV (closed-circuit television). So in theory you could get snaps of your whole vacation--every inch--from them. Still, not trusting their aesthetic approach, we decided to take our own snaps, too. Here are a few:

Arrrggghhhh!  Jasper and Ruby (the little fuzzy white heads) boarding the pirate ship at "the pirate ship park."  And you thought Hyde Park was the most famous park in London?!  You haven't been there with your kids.  This one is actually called the Princess Diana Memorial Playground and is in Kensington Gardens.  It's a huge park all based on Peter Pan themes--very cool.  If you ever go to London with kids of any age, don't miss it.  It's free, but closes at 6:30 and is completely addicting for children.  Whereever else we were, Ruby was begging to go to the Pirate Ship Park.

Ruby loved the torture implements at the Clink Prison Museum.  We didn't have the heart to tell her how this chastity belt was really supposed to be worn.

Jasper has definitely got the onry look down driving this doubledecker bus.

At the Clink Museum again (the 'Clink' Street Prison is the one which gave all other prisons its name--getting thrown in the 'Clinker'), Ruby and I demonstrated the potential consequences for children who whine while walking around London.

If Steve and I were younger, and he weren't holding a half-eaten child's ice cream, we might look like honeymooners out for a walk in front of Tower Bridge.

Jasper and Ruby were permanently perched on the front, top row in every bus we took.  That odd golden thing streaming through the window is a recent London import--sunshine.  I honestly could not remember ever struggling with sun in my eyes on a London bus before.

London, Inside and Outside

Many moments in London I felt overwhelmed with a mix of feelings both old and new:

-Walking, walking, walking, walking:

In London I was as fit as I've ever been. I had no gym pass, didn't kill myself at Neil's gym like I do now, but I walked everywhere. All the time, rain or shine. We all did, and I think we walked more than most locals. When we arrived in London I learned school was about to start, and there were no guaranteed neighborhood schools. You had to find your place. I went to the Internet cafe, looked up children's schools, and mapped them out. The next day, Steve and I put the kids in the stroller and walked to every school on the map. St. Michael's Church of England School was farthest away on the map, and our last hope. We were exhausted by the time we got there. I clearly remember buzzing the door, and introducing ourselves to a woman who said she was into geneology and knew about Utah. She had just had a student leave the country for visa issues, and thought she could find a place for us.

Anyhow, the point of my story is that we walked a mile and a half each way to Jasper's school each day, there and back. Even in the city, that's a long way to walk--we crossed three different London neighborhoods! There was a bus that got you near there, and we took it when we were freezing. But the walk was definitely the most convenient and quickest and most direct way to go. None of the parents at Jasper's school could believe we came so far. They especially couldn't believe we came so far for an inner city school. But St. Michael's didn't disappoint in any way. Jasper's teacher, Miss Leah from Australia, was wonderful. And no uppity school could beat the education Jasper gained from having students of 200 countries at his school. His friend Abdo was Muslim and his mother picked him up in a nearly-full Birka. Asha was a second-generation Barbados Brit whose mother worked at the Charles Dickens House Museum. Sophie's dad was a "copper" on the streets of London.

Five years ago when we walked Ruby was in the stroller. We had a very nice double. Jasper could make it a good two miles at age 4, but when he was tired or slow we plopped him in the stroller, too. Visiting London this time, I was very concerned about walking with older kids whom I couldn't plop in the stroller. Sure enough, they whined and whined, and we walked and walked. But they got used to it. I was really proud of them. When they were really dead, we let them walk with their ipods. It felt really good to walk till your feet hurt every day, and hit the bed dog tired. That's how I felt most of the year we lived in London.


-The Bus:

I used to have a love/hate relationship with the bus. I loved when it would finally come and rescue me and my kids from the biting cold. I loved to rest my burning feet. But I hated to fight my way on with the stroller, sometimes just to be met with glares. This time, I hopped on with my children and we rode upstairs in the top deck on the front seat every single time--Ruby insisted. It was her favorite part of the whole trip. So we loved those old double-deckers again this trip.

The Complicated British-American relationship:

I think most Americans would agree that living as an American in the UK you feel both a part of and apart from the people around you. At least I did. On the one hand there are no two countries more unified than the US and the UK. There is virtually no where else abroad an American could feel more comfortable. When my grandparents were missionaries in Africa and were offered a two-week hiatus to recuperate, they chose to go to London.

On the other hand, both Americans and Brits, when in the presence of each other, seem to define themselves by taking pride in their differences. I guess this is normal. But sometimes it gets in the way. Steve and I must have looked like locals again this time, because we were asked for directions several times again, just like we were five years ago. We fit right in, and felt annoyed with the noisy Americans on the tube (there are a lot of hotels in our old neighborhood), and laughed at how you could pick them out. But then we weren't British. There were times, like in November of 2004 when Bush was re-elected, when I was afraid to open my mouth for fear of people hearing my accent. And again, I had that experience where someone is smiling at you, being friendly, and then their expression drops and their demeanor changes as soon as they hear me talk. Either that, or I call attention to myself and mark myself as American by saying excuse me too often--being too openly friendly.

All of these feelings were brought back to me in the London Transport Museum on Sunday. This wondeful museum is largely geared toward children, so I was pleasantly surprised to see a very distinguished-looking elderly gentleman viewing the exhibits. Later on as we finished the museum, I caught up with Steve and the kids in a room with a fake train light flashing overhead. Two little British girls were running back and forth, trying to stay in the light, and Ruby joined in. I was confused to hear a loud voice yelling, in a perfect Oxford English accent. I suddenly realized this disembodied voice was yelling at us, at the children. Then this same distinguished gentleman appeared at my back, yelling even more, "ignorant, ignorant! If they do that now how do you what do you think they're going to grow up to be??" Not wanting to offend the man, but not being able to get a word in edgewise to apologize, I opened my mouth and said, "Come on, guys. Let's go." I forgot I would be so recognizable with so few words. The old man began berating us with renewed vigor, this time about Ignorant Americans, and how of course we think it's OK for our children to run around and behave like that here, in their country. Sure, as long as it's on somebody else's turf.

As we walked out of the museum I was crestfallen--almost on the verge of tears. I knew it was silly to let this one encounter get to me. I guess it just brought me back to reality. There were a lot of hard times in London. It was often cold and grey. I often felt like an outsider. No matter how comfortable I became, I was still an American living in England. I knew this all along. I didn't ruin my experience, and it doesn't ruin my memories. It's just every chapter of our lives: good and bad, black and white, sunny and grey, happy and sad, inside and outside.

London, Old and New

Five good days, and I was off the wagon. That's not even enough to get to your first weigh-in--if you're starting a diet, like I have so many times. But I had a good excuse for not posting for the rest of our time in London. AT%T went out of its way to let me know that I was paying a fortune in data fees for using the Internet on my phone. I knew phone and texting rates were different, but I didn't expect my data plan to be so drastically affected by being overseas. So, no more blogging from the iPhone. There is a great little Internet cafe in our old neighborhood, but we kept ourselves so busy I never had a chance to get there. Maybe I'll just give a few snapshot updates.

.................................

Much to my relief, our visit to London was lovely. I was very worried it would be a huge disappointment, because I've waited so long and gotten carried away with my memories of it. Perhaps I worried just enough to temper my expectations.

Our days were a natural mix of visiting our old haunts, and exploring some new ones.

Highlights of the Old:
-Walking to our old flat
-Visiting Jasper's old school
-Shopping at our crowded old market
-Playing at Coram's Fields and the Pirate Ship Park

Highlights of the New:
-Visiting the old Clink Prison Museum
-Visiting the Transport Museum
-Eating at a bustling, hip Brunswick Centre, which used to be the blight of our neighborhood

No Comment

As an Internet user, I am a taker, not a giver. I always feel a bit guilty about this, but--obviously--not guilty enough to change.

I depend on online help forums to help me solve problems and answer questions about everything from computer issues to adoption issues. But I never go back and answer any questions, or post a thank you. Similarly, I have never been one to post comments on blogs. I enjoy reading them, but something stops me from posting a comment online for everyone to see.

I'm learning my lesson. I'm very grateful to all of you who take the time to leave a word of encouragement, or just to let me know you get what I'm saying (or don't). Especially now. Thanks.