Ugh.

Ugh. The adoption is getting messy. Ukraine is asking for some new paperwork and they want it all right away. Plus they want all our old paperwork updated...right away. Most of it will be OK, just a little stressful and pricey to get again (e.g. our THIRD blood tests in 18 months). However, there are one or two things that might not happen. Our Virgina background checks won't be done in time.

And there are one or two things for which they'd like an "official" letter from East Asian government. Like, they want proof our daughter would be given a visa. Anyone who has lived or traveled here knows you can't just walk into a government office and say "Here's a form I made up in which you promise to do something. Will you sign it and give it an official stamp?" Um...yeah.

So we're trying to figure out if there's any way around some of these things.
The really hard thing is that if we can't work something out (and get our background checks on time), the adoption will be at BEST delayed a year or so. More likely, it will fall through.

So after already being in this process a year longer than expected, we're really discouraged right now. It's hard to get motivated to walk into another East Asian office and face another inevitable blank stare. Why is it that getting a child can come down to a piece of paper?! We're trying to still believe in God's sovereignty and goodness in the midst of this. For those of you that have been praying for this...thank you. And if anyone has some secret contact in the Ukrainian court system who owes you a big favor...can I get a phone number?

Summer Musing

As the air-conditioner repairman stood on the edge of our 26th floor balcony yesterday, it occurred to me:
Air-conditioner repairmen have one of the worst summer jobs. Wherever they go, the air-conditioner is broken.
And people are probably pretty crabby.

How I Spent My Evening (Rob's thoughts food)

It's been a while since we posted here- it's just been a very busy few weeks. So tonight it was nice to be able to relax, catch up on some e-mails, and make tortillas.

When I first moved to East Asia, I had pretty much resigned myself to living without some of my favorite foods, or else spending exorbitant amounts of money to get them ($12 for a box of Capt'n Crunch, anyone?). My wife, however, doesn't give up so easily.

So in the past year, we have (for example) made our own sour cream, egg-free pancakes, Auntie Anne's pretzels, homemade bagels, granola, and Catalina salad dressing. We've even pitted our own olives. And now we make our own flour tortillas. It's a lot of work, but if you've had April's chicken fajitas, you'd understand why I think it's worth it to spend a few hours mixing, rolling, frying, and cleaning.

It's a little exciting to imagine what hard to find culinary treasures we may add to our list in the coming year. English muffins? Doughnuts? Granola Bars?

I do know for sure what's next on my list- homemade pierogies!

Adoption Update- A Father-to-Be's Thoughts

No, nothing's changed. We're still slated to go sometime this winter to pick up our little girl. And that's what's so hard- the waiting.

The child that in a half a year will be ours is living in an orphanage somewhere around the world. She's probably already old enough to hobble a few steps and say a few words. Even though we haven't been matched with a child yet (and we won't be until we arrive there), ONE of those little girls is ours.

And there's nothing I can do about it.

Over the past year of paperwork, fund-raising, and preparation, my heart has steadily grown to take in this child as mine; and now it makes me so angry and upset that my daughter is living in an orphanage, that I can't swoop in and rescue her. I'm not even allowed to meet her yet.
I never imagined I would so much love her before she even joined our family, and now that love just makes the waiting hurt so much.

Things That Go

I love public transportation. Most of my American friends would rather have a car, but I can't imagine life without subways, light rails, 500 bus routes, and abundant taxis (not to mention my bike!).

Here's me a few months ago with one of our little friends here. His fascination with cars, trucks, and trains makes me wonder if my love of public transportation isn't partly due to the toys of my youth...

Remembering, again (Yes, April is a difficult month)

Today would have been my mom's 53rd birthday. I have friends who are older than that, which helps me understand why losing my mom feels so strange. She was 19 when I was born, and I made an easy transition into adulthood, relating to my parents more as peers.

I often think about how different our lives were. My mom, who always wanted to travel, hardly left the East Coast (until her trip to visit us!), while I've been to more places than I can remember, and all I've ever wanted is to settle down in the suburbs. By the time she was my age, my mom had been married 15 years and had two teenagers and an 8-year-old. We're still paper pregnant with child number one.

But regarding personality (and hair), we were so much alike. My mom and I always had secret looks that we gave each other when people would use a word incorrectly. We both loved to read (and my Lord of the Rings addiction probably began when she read the series to me a few months before I was born). We were good with numbers. We both relied too much on reason and tried to hide from our feelings. And we both were much more affected by my dad's death than we ever realized or let on.

Losing mom felt like losing my last connection to my past. Who do you go to when you need to remember the name of your kindergarten teacher? Who else knows the name of distant cousins? Who else knows all the embarrassing stories of your youth?

Happy Birthday, Mom. We miss you deeply.

Alas, new gym, we hardly knew you

A little more than a year and a half ago, we joined a gym. After our one-year membership expired, we checked out another gym near us and decided we liked it better- the price was a little better, the yoga classes were free, the treadmills had fans, it wasn't in a basement, and they didn't have heat lamps shining on you while you exercised (OK, so gyms here aren't exactly like the ones in the States. We occasionally see people walking backwards on the treadmills. And one gym said they don't need toilets because "people can just use the showers").

So we joined the newer gym that had just opened, and we've been faithful members there for two months. And then our old gym bought our new gym so they could close it down.

This is a common phenomenon we've experienced here. Once you find something you really like, it tends to get shut down. Our favorite restaurant, favorite sauna, favorite you-name-it- once you make an emotional attachment, you can be sure it won't last.

Fortunately, all members of the new gym get their membership transferred.
Unfortunately, we're back under the heat lamps...

wash with like colors only...

Every now and then, as we go about our daily life here, we run into something that highlights just how different this country is from the U.S.

We bought some new laundry detergent this week, and as I (Rob) was reading the directions to figure out how much to use per load I noticed that the instructions weren't making a whole lot of sense. And then I realized- I was reading the hand washing instructions. Most laundry detergents have instructions both for hand washing and for machine washing. Many people still don't have washing machines, an item I never used to consider a luxury. Now imagine how we try to explain to our friends here what a clothes dryer is...

Remembering

Today would have been my dad's 60th birthday. I don't think I ever was able to imagine my parents in their 60's- they always seemed so young to me, more so as I grew older.

My father taught me the importance of childlike faith and the value of play. No one worked harder than my father did, but he also took every chance to laugh, relax, and enjoy every moment. He was always trying to figure out what would make someone smile, and I hope I've inherited that precious gift of making people comfortable.

As hard as it was to imagine my parents growing "old," it's been even harder to imagine my future without them. My children will never know them as grandparents. I won't have them to turn to when facing the compounding confusion of adulthood. Maybe most of my sadness is pretty selfish- maybe that's usually the case. I feel deprived of the future I expected. Even now I wonder what home-spun wisdom my father would have to say about all that (and what down-to-earth practical perspective my mom would give).


Happy Birthday, Dad.
We're celebrating in our own way here- a continent and a lifetime away.
Maybe we'll watch Oscar and eat popcorn with M&M's...
Love,
Rob and April

Rob's Confessions- Part 2 and 3

When hanging up my clothes, whenever possible I try to match the color of shirt with the color of the clothes-hanger. This presents some problems-
1) I have very few "metal-colored" shirts (solution: I hang black shirts on unpainted hangers, since black is the absence of color and a metal-colored hanger is unpainted)
2) One of our last hanger purchases was pastel colored hangers, and I have (almost) no pastel shirts.
3) I have more gray clothing than any person in the world should. Which leads to confession number 3:

When doing laundry, I have whites, colors, and grays. My wife (who ironically is maiden-named Gray) teases me about this. I just tell her gray is my favorite color...I felt so symbolic yesterday...