The tale of the mini-yolka

Now that Thanksgiving has come and gone, Christmas season is upon us in full.  The girls have been asking us about Christmas trees (which they call yolkas, after the Russian New Year's counterparts), and G replied "yes, next weekend we also will get a tree, and put it in the living room and decorate it".

Well, next weekend seemed to be an impossibly long time to wait for two girls, and they fell despondent.  The crushed joy of Christmas hung in the air. Depression loomed.  G then quickly followed, in an upbeat voice--"but we DO have a small tree we keep in the basement that we can get out, and it has many lights!"  Bright eyes again.

We then forgot about this until we got home, when it became clear that Vika had far from forgotten about it.  She went into the basement, and started randomly rummaging about (or so I imagine...) to find aforementioned tree.  This then was followed by a request for a parent, and the mini-yolka was found.

We plugged it in, and ..... nothing.  Sad but true, neither of the two strings of lights worked.  A quick check of fuses resembled this was not part of the problem.  So, I deferred, saying I would try to find the burnt out bulb later (knowing that this is hard to do).  Well, after about 4 reminders through the day, the final request came.  So, trying to keep my and the girls spirits high, we took it to the kitchen for a systematic evaluation.   This is where you remember G's statement of "many lights".  Many is right - I didn't count them all, but at least 100, and possibly double that in this little, 3 foot high tree.

Vika, Diana (a.k.a. "the bumblebee, Napoleon, or the randomizer") and I first started on the task of removing all of the bulbs and placing them on the countertop.  Vika and I could pull them off with our fingernails, while Diana used a small screwdriver, as her fingernails were optimized for scratching people, not removing bulbs.

This gave us a huge pile of bulbs sitting between us.  Then, in a great show of magic and capability, Dad produced a beeping ohmmeter to test them, each and every one.  I even showed the kids how to do it.  We tested and tested, resulting in a large bowl of "good", and a smaller bowl of (exactly) 17 bad bulbs.  I was a bit worried that we could find 17 replacement bulbs in the basement, but Vika and I went downstairs to look.  In the end, we found a non-working string of bulbs that seemed close, and removed 17 bulbs, with an extra two in case some of THOSE were dead.

We then came upstairs, and found a happy, giggly Diana, beaming, and proudly showing us how she had tested the bad bulbs AGAIN, found them to be all "OK", and placed them in the good pile!!!  The randomizer had struck again! ARRRGGHHH,  sighs, and "NO DAVIDS" were heard, and we refocused on the task of testing once again.

Much testing and recounting later, we had our bulbs retested, with the same dead count.  We then tested the "new" bulbs, and sure enough, out of the 19, 17 worked.  We added the good ones to the pot, and now knew we had as many bulbs as we started with.  Perfect!

Now the bulb restuffing began.  Stuff, stuff, stuff.  After a while, it looked like all the spaces had been filled in, but there were still about 10 bulbs left.  Search, find, search, find - 8 times. This got harder and harder, until we only had 2 left.   We looked, and looked, and looked.  They HAD to be there somewhere - didn't they?  Then inspiration - wasn't it two bulbs that had failed in the new lot?  Yup, you guessed it - the randomizer, twice in a day, and a clearly non-learning Dad!

Well, it was not likely to begin with, but sure enough, the tree did not work.  It was time to give up.  We took it to the living room, and all agreed that we had tried, at least.

But ... this story is not quite over.  Vika the resourceful apparently went spelunking in the basement once again, and had found a box of brand new lights.  She took them out and plugged them in, and ... one hundred points of light!  Joy, dancing, chanting - the lights are going, the lights are going ('edyot')!!  So, the girls spread the string through the living room, and Christmas is coming once again.

Let the holiday season begin!

I would love to know....

When searching for "electric kettle" at the Target site, it found some hits, but also had some "related" searches to help me along...

We found 51 matches for "electric kettle" at Target

Related Searches: kettle, shirt, cordless electric kettle, hot pot, coffee maker

What is the world is "shirt" doing in this list????

Early English Language Output

Over the last month, we have seen quite a bit of "English" emerge in our kids speech, especially Diana's.  First to be heard are ready-made phrases, but now we occasionally hear an attempt on a self-constructed sentence.  These are pretty basic, and often amusing.

The event of this weekend has been getting about 25 cm of snow, which is just enough to go sledding in.  While we have gone several times to the local school, were they have nice cleared hills, much of the sledding is in our yard.  Our yard has a few flattish areas, but also some trails that go careening off into the woods, on some pretty steep trails.

This afternoon I went to check on the kids.  Diana ran up to me, smiling and giggling.  She than froze in serious thought, looked in the face in her best, "am I saying this right" expression, and said in a halting manner:  Papa!  Me ouch... sled.... tree!

G kid progress report

Didn't you expect this behavior? Two weeks -- one might say rather hellish weeks, at least at times, have passed. One friend asked me recently, "Didn't you know to expect these behaviors?" and the answer is "Yes, we knew with our intellects... but that is far different from living it every day."

Yesterday was another 'takes two to get Vika to school day.' On Monday of this past week, Diana, who has been adopting her sister's best practices for being difficult, decided to try outright refusal to attend school. She went to school in her nightgown, and I think she's decided that the consequences aren't worth it to her. We will be glad when Vika makes the same decision.

Perspective: To give some perspective on our situation -- about which we are cautiously optimistic -- here are some comments from adoptive parents who have survived the first year and now mostly have 'normal' problems with their children:

....."For the first year, I wanted to hang a sign over their heads that said, 'ADOPTED'."

....."My son was really hostile to me for the first year, but now I feel really close to him."

....."Later my daughter told me that I'd been really mean to her the first year she lived with me. I asked her what I'd done, and she said, 'You made me say please and thank you.' I must have succeeded, however, because now she says them naturally and gracefully!"

And one comment from a kid who was adopted 5+ years ago:
....."At first I swore at my parents in Russian (using foul language), but then I began to understand what our pastor was saying..." And now she is very close to her parents and wants to become a missionary to the former Soviet Union.

Fetal Alcohol Exposure (FAE) and Fetal Alcohol Syndrome (FAS) This week we had our first meeting with a psychologist who does a lot of work with adopted children and their parents. He has worked a lot with children adopted from Russia, and remarked that it is almost impossible that our children, with their background, escaped all consequences in utero exposure to ethanol. This is called, in its full-blown state, fetal alcohol syndrome. Prenatal exposure to alcohol messes up the sequence of development of the brain, both anatomically and the brain's response to development, pruning and the environment. Since Ludmilla Yurievna, their bio mother, is reported to be a confirmed alcoholic, we were naive to think that such lovely children escaped FAE unharmed.

The psychologist commented that alcohol use in Russia is about 5x (or maybe 10x) that of alcohol use here in the States. I hope that is per capita and not total consumption, as the Russian population is about half of ours, I think.

The psychologist was supportive, encouraging, and we are off working on a new round of behavior modification and therapy books!

Good times: Are there good times? YES! But the good times are often short, very sweet, and hard to capture. Oddly, one good time in my life is getting Diana up to go to the bathroom before I go to sleep. (She's had several accidents in the last week, so I'm back to doing that.) She is warm, and drowsy, and very clingy, and sweet.

She is usually sweet, by the way, and we have great fun tickling each other , giving each other raspberries, playing silly games, etc.

We have established a new routine for after dinner. It has destroyed kitchen clean-up but has been very good for bonding and for learning. We clear away the dishes and immediately start doing 'homework.' Sometimes this is real homework that the teachers have assigned, but more often it is some kind of math or word play that we do with the kids. It is amusing to watch Vika supervise her sister's counting! Vika doesn't realize how much SHE is learning from the repetition of Diana's work!

One game involves an egg carton and 78 pennies... Last night I put the pennies in the carton randomly and asked Diana to check my work. After checking a couple of places, she 'decided' it would be easier to dump out all the pennies and count them from scratch! 1, 1..2, 1..2..3, etc...

Vika is now reading -- with SUCH PRIDE AND ENTHUSIASM -- the first series of Bob Books!

Both of the children adore the dogs and the adoration is mutual. Tango the tooth is also Tango the incredibly patient with kids tugging and pulling and generally man-handling him. His teeth are all directed at paper and garbage, never intentionally at kids.

This week after school, both kids have been decorating some Home Depot moving boxes that I bought for storing things away. They paint the sides with tempera paint, and the results are rather cool! And it turns out that at 67 cents per carton, I am getting a good deal economically as well.

Last night we had a long session with the dollar bins at Target -- and their allowances. Got to teach them about money somehow, and this is a good start.

When they make the school bus, they get a smiley face on the allowance chart and they get their allowances. Missing the school bus results in a TURTLE on the chart, and forfeiting the allowance.

This week I was in Diana's class twice, for Math Action. I got to help kids do really simple Tangrams! My favorite! What fun that was!

Next week, I do Math Action with Vika's class.

A couple of weeks ago I did Science Action with Diana's class. These activities are REALLY FUN for everyone!

This week, I introduced Vika to a book on puberty. She is fascinated and we have spent some very sweet times together in Chuck's and my bed, looking at the book and discussing the issues that she finds compelling. And she refuses to let her sister look at the book, because there are pictures of 'naked people' in it! foflol

So, we are surviving, holding on, praying a lot, and being tired a fair amount, too.

Please keep praying for us!

G

B+ for effort....

Those who follow chocolate know that at the very high end of the market, strange things happen to chocolate - you can find it in herb flavors, with meat garnishes, all sorts of strange and exotic things that, frankly most would (and probably should) shun.

Well, tonight Diana has made her entry into this area of master chef.  True to her Russian heritage, she likes to chop and slice things.  And she also like to help prepare dinner, and often tries to make up a side dish.  Well, tonight, she skillfully chopped (mashed?) some apples with a plastic knife.  She spread them out rather artfully (OK, for a first grader) on a plate, and then put on the finishing touch..... fresh ground pepper!

G kid progress approach

I started this a couple of weeks ago, but was OBE (overcome by events), as Chuck likes to say.  So relative dates are now relatively meaningless.

Milestones for the children

I love you:  In the last week, Vika has told me that she loves me -- at least three times.  And, once, when she was very angry with me, she said, "I don't love you." instead of the "I hate you." that I expected.  And Diana has chimed in with her 'I love you." They have also told Chuck that they love him.  This is a big change from the days when they only loved the dogs!  ;-)

Neater eater:  It has been several weeks since we routinely tucked a napkin into the neckline of Diana's shirt, as a bib, when she eats.  She just was managing (with fingers, but that's another step) waffles very neatly.  "With your fork!" is our cry, much as other parents say, "Use your words!"

English and reading:  Last night, Vika read to me in English.  We read Thank You, God, some of The Princesses' Manners, and Goodnight Moon!  Today she and Chuck spent a long time reading together.

Seat belts for the baby dolls:  Although the first-ever seat belt meltdown happened last Sunday, after church, when Diana took hers off and refused to put it back on (which proceeded to kicking and throwing things), this past week also saw one stuffed animal latched carefully into the middle seat belt of the car, and great concern that their babies not be pushed in their strollers until their seat belts had been fastened.

English:  At dinner the other night I noticed that Diana has replaced the Russian 'и' with the English 'and.'  And Vika's English Language Learning teacher, Mrs. Brown, reports that Vika told her IN ENGLISH that we have a tent, that we go camping and that all of us -- including dogs -- sleep together in the tent.  Diana's teacher reports that Diana has begun talking to the class in English, single words, but trying to communicate.

Last Sunday the kids went to Sunday school and church for the first time ever.  Between that and Halloween, I think they were way overloaded, but they held up amazingly well in church!

No change in routine goes unpunished.  Chuck says that no change in routine goes unpunished.  [BTW, the 'punishment' can last as long as 3 or 4 weeks... but it always, always follows change.]  

To wit, he went to volleyball on Thursday night, and the kids were really, really difficult.  I finally called and asked him to come home early.  

Actually I said, "If you want live children and a wife who is not in jail, come home now!"  

They would not do anything they needed to do to get ready for bed:  wash their faces, brush their teeth, put on their pyjamas, etc. They wouldn't go into their bedroom, even.  Well, I guess I finally got them into bed, but then they kept turning the light back on, so they could play.  

The next morning, it took two of us to drive Vika to school, covered in mud and very angry, because she refused to get up and get dressed to catch the bus.  Fortunately, the school nurse and psychologist are very skilled, and Vika has a toiletries kit at school because this has happened numerous times.  They got her cleaned up and reported that she went off to class with a big smile.  

She certainly came home all bouncy and smiling, except for the persistent question, "Mama, why did I go to school today?"

WHY?  These "why" questions are particularly difficult because they are obstructive in the same way that children who do not want to go to sleep may ask for more water or to go to the bathroom one last time.  At this point, I often answer her question with a question.  My question either takes the form, "What do you think?" or "What would be a reasonable answer to your question?"

I think I've written about this before because often the question and her inability to understand an answer has more to do with lack of life experience and lack of agreement on cultural values.  It has just dawned on me that they really have no idea why I would want to keep their teeth healthy or why I would object to activities that damage the furniture.

FERAL CATS!   I've been trying and trying to think of a metaphor that would help others understand life from Vika and Diana's perspective and from ours, and I think I've got it.  Our children are like feral cats.  
.....They were found in miserable conditions and bad health.
.....They were removed to Lollypop Farm (our local ASPCA) to be gotten healthy and socialized enough that they could be adopted.  
.....They've been adopted by committed loving people.
But now that they are adopted, they are shy of everything new, they are difficult, they don't share our values, they don't understand why they aren't free to roam the world at will, as they did before the Russian government stepped into their lives.  

Even though their lives with us are much richer in experiences than their lives in government care, they are also more supervised!  In care, they watched a lot of television.  Here, television is a privilege that they don't get every day.  Before living under government care, Vika essentially never attended school.  Remember, she is now 11 years old.  That is a long time to evade school, and it is a difficult mindset to modify.

MEDICAL FUN:  We -- and the dentist -- discovered that Vika's gag reflex is so strong that the dentist thinks she will have to do Vika's dental work under general anaesthesia.  This week, I also noticed that the arch of Vika's soft and hard palates is very high and narrow.  We've been doing research about this because her teeth are misaligned and misshapen, and she is a mouth breather, hence the gagging.  Now we really do have to get her back to the ENT because this can be fairly serious.  Such fun.  She is so terrified of everything medical... at the moment she won't even take Tylenol and she objects most nights to putting the acne cream on her face.

Diana, on the other hand, found the cartoons on the dentist's monitor compelling and was very happy and relaxed while breathing her 'strawberry air' which really was nitrous oxide.  

The first big meltdown in public:  That is, Diana was relaxed until she understood that she really couldn't have pizza after the dental appointment, due to the xylocaine.  We had a lovely full-scale meltdown in the sub shop at the Perinton Wegmans, where Vika was eating pizza and Diana was refusing ice cream, yogurt, mashed potatoes, pumpkin pie, pudding, and soup...  

People kept saying things like,
..... "Can I help?  If I can help, I'm right over there..."  [ans:  "Thank you for your offer."] and 
..... "Should I call the store manager?"  [ans:  "No, thank you."] and 
..... "Is she having a seizure?"  [ans:  "That describes it very nicely."] and, 
..... when she had finally started to calm down, "Would she like to color with these pencils and paper?  That always calms my son."  [ans:  "Yes, thank you."] and then, 
..... "She can keep them if she would like."  [ans:  "No, thank you, I've already told her that you are lending them to her.  The last thing I want is for her to learn is that throwing a fit in public gets herpresents."]

Eventually Diana gave the picture she drew to the lady who lent us the drawing tools, and Diana even managed to say, "Thank you."

I took them back to school after that, even though it was 2 PM and school gets out at 3, because I needed a breather before starting in again at 3:45 when they get home from school.

Does anyone out there remember using time-sharing computer systems?  When I was at Clarkson, there was a period late every Friday afternoon when the system was so over-loaded that the computer barely managed to poll each terminal in sequence and to say, "Yes, I know you're there.  I'll get to you when I can."  I suppose the modern equivalent is a denial of service attack.  Or maybe trying to play a video game on an old, underpowered PC.  Anyhow, I am like an over-loaded time-sharing mainframe computer.  Either there is processing and no I/O or there is I or O or I/O but no processing, but not all three!  

I've been in this state for months.

VoIP now working

Our VoIP transition is now complete - we no longer have any accounts with our local telephone company, or AT&T for phone service.  Our combined $55 monthly bill for very little phone use (and probably no less than $30 in taxes) is now replaced with about $2.50 per month plus an extra $6 of usage charges ($6 buys 333 minutes).  So far, we are happy customers.  I will post the details on how we did it (in case anyone wants to copy us :-)

Now, an update from Chuck's POV

It was three weeks ago when G wrote that last post-- a period of time that seems like an eternity at times. The overall flow and sense of time seems to have changed here, as we slowly adapt to our entirely different life. At one level, all the days blend into one another - the alarm clock (for us) at 6:50 am, the shades up in the kids room in anticipation of the alarm clock, the kids alarm at 7, the (often, but not always) fight to get the kids out of bed and to the bus stop, work (for me), return home a bit before six, dinner at 6:15, homework (or something else), the negotiation of bathtime at 8-or-so, bedtime (fight, meltdown), then book, then Goodnight Moon, then lights out.... and finally, two precious hours to myself before sleep and a repeat tomorrow. (On most nights G spends an hour or so holding kids while they babble and then fall asleep.)

At another level, I don't think I have every had three months feel that it is passing so slowly - or rather that the elapsed time seems much longer than the calender indicates has passed -- it really DOES feel more like 6 months. The main question I have is - at what rate are we aging??? :-)

This week has been (finally!!!!) back to "normal", following two weeks of absolute fight, real tests for us. During those two weeks, I traveled first to San Diego for 3 1/2 days, and then on the second week traveled to Washington DC for 1 1/2 days. For us, totally normal, uneventful trips. The effect on the kids and their behavior could not have been more extreme, especially in Vika's case. Absolute, positive refusal to go to school. Running away into the woods, throwing things, melting down, lots of anger. It took us a while to figure out what was going on, but I think G solved the puzzle, based on a short comment by Vika: at some unconscious level Vika was worried that I was not coming back, and that G was going to join me as soon as we had Vika and Diana packed away to school. Crazy... yes. But, fear is fear, and the results were telling.

Hopefully this period is behind us now - it was probably the hardest period we have had since adopting the kids. So far this week (knock wood) things have been going much better.

We continue to learn from experience all of the things we had known, been told, or read about in books on parenting adopted children. It is not that we even doubted any of them from the start, but truth be told, it is hard to totally restructure and reinvent one's life from scratch. Some things just have to be learned. G is doing an absolutely wonderful, even heroic, job of being the all-important [mostly calm] Mama, and I am trying to act as mortar to keep the pile of bricks standing as a structure. We observe, learn, discuss, and (try to) change.

At times it seems that we can't keep up, as the kids are changing faster then we can, while at other times I really feel like we are making progress. Either way, as a family, we are all "learning" each other.

At one level, we are having the same experience as millions and millions of other families - watching our children grow. But at another level, while analogous, our experience is rather different when compared with other "normal, bio" families.

Present in me is the continuous watch and anxiety on how my kids are progressing and "fitting in." Yet, at the same time, I have to keep reminding myself that while my older daughter is 11 years old, no amount of wishing will make her 11 for me at this instant. She was deprived of her childhood starting at age 4 or so (she cared for her younger sibling mostly by herself), and she has a full right, and a full need, to those missing years. So, we have thrown out most "normal" expectations for the moment, and instead are doing the best we can to "just" be loving, supporting, educating, guiding parents. From all this will come a rare present few will ever get to see - a complete 6 years lived in fast forward "real time" of only a few years.

And soon, just like the hundreds of millions of other families, there will come a time when we all wished it had happened much slower. We'll wonder how they grew up so quickly when we weren't watching.