Step 28: Attack of the green-eyed monster

Having one child is a lot of work. Before this adoption, I suppose I assumed (and we all know what happens when one assumes...) that having two children would mean twice the work. In my delusional state, I even believed that perhaps - just perhaps - my older child could help with the younger one at times, thereby making life easier for everyone. After all, my younger brother was born when I was nine years old and the next eight years of my life involved much babysitting, bathing, soothing, storytelling, entertaining, etc.

Silly me. What was I thinking?

I love Bean. Really, I do. And I knew that the adoption of Pearl would be an adjustment for him. He is a smart little boy and even a few months ago, he knew enough to say that he didn't want to share the attention and love of his parents with another child. I tried to tell him about the fun parts of having a sibling: a partner for board games, hide and seek, and Mario Kart; an instant playmate when no one else was available; a small disciple who would idolize his every move and laugh at all his jokes. Bean was not swayed. As I said, he is a smart boy and he astutely countered my arguments with his own:

She is too little.

He doesn't want a three year old hanging around him all the time.

She won't even understand his jokes since she only knows Mandarin.

He already has friends and he doesn't want a sister.

He doesn't want any less attention from Mom and Dad.

His life is just fine the way it is.

So, what is a parent to do in the face of these arguments? At six years old, Bean is too young for me to tell him what I know to be true. Siblings mean a shared history, a conspirator, a confidante. A brother or sister is someone who can tell you whether or not your memories are real or fabricated, whether your childhood was idyllic, dysfunctional, or something in between. Siblings are a window and a mirror.

As a physician, I see how siblings come together to support each other and care for ailing parents. Or not. I see how, when parents die, children are the ones who live on. There is nothing wrong with being an only child, but when siblings have good relationships, they can lean on one another and share the burdens of caregiving and grief.

As a sister, I know that siblings are a pain, but they are also blessings. When that same younger brother I referenced previously died nearly one year ago, I realized just how it feels to be unmoored from that shared history, that intertwined family story. I grieve for who he was and who he will never be, but I also grieve because I am now the only one who will carry my mother and stepfather's legacy forward in time. I won't ever be able to call my brother on the telephone and say, "Remember when our mom said...?" or "Remember that time we skipped stones at Schoolhouse Beach and...?". If I am fortunate enough to live a long time, I alone will be the one who has to tell my stepfather that his eyesight is too bad to continue driving, or sit my mother down and break the news that it is time for her to move to an assisted living facility.

These are things that I cannot share with a six year old child, even one as precocious as Bean. He just has to accept that his parents decided that adopting Pearl is what is best for this family, even if he
doesn't understand or agree.

It has been a hard adjustment.

Trouble started from day one, when we met Pearl and our family of 3 upgraded to version 2.0, i.e. - Windows Family IV. Tantrums, jealousy, regression, petty rivalries (that were pretty much imagined on the part of Bean since Pearl has been happily oblivious to his scowls and angry English words). She toddles after him while he tells her to go away. She repeats "No!" and points her tiny finger back at him when he scolds her, believing it to be some delightful game. Bean repeatedly asks us, "Why does she get to (insert innocuous verb here)?"

Examples include:

"Why does she get to eat?" This is usually said when Bean himself is eating.

"Why does she get to sleep in your room?" Um, ok. Never mind that Bean spent his first six months in our lives swaddled in a pack and play next to our bed.

"Why does she get all the attention?" Right... So the hour I just spent painstakingly applying decals on his latest Lego creation was imaginary?

I think that the pinnacle of jealousy was reached yesterday, when Pearl had her first appointment with the pediatrician. Poor Pearl had the good fortune to have her ears irrigated five times in an unsuccessful attempt to dislodge impacted wax. She received three shots in her legs. She had blood drawn from her right arm. Flu Mist was squirted into both nostrils. This was all in addition to the general examination and the poopy diaper that resulted from a Miralax dose given to treat constipation. As the poor girl wailed pitiably, Bean grumbled and yelled, "Why does she get everything?"

If there had been a syringe lying unattended, I would have stabbed him with it myself at that very moment just so he wouldn't feel so left out. That is how much I empathized with my poor, neglected firstborn child.

The thing is, though, that I do empathize with him. His life right now is noisier. His schedule has changed. The routines are disrupted. His parents are distracted. The attention is split. Believe me, I get it. I remember thinking to myself (and sometimes saying aloud), "I never asked for a brother!". I remember wondering why my good life had to be ruined by a screaming baby, a messy toddler, an annoying preschooler, a child who always seemed to get away with everything while I was taken to task for everything.

The green-eyed monster and I were no strangers. It's no surprise that he and my Bean are fast friends.

With time, my hope is that Bean will delight in Pearl the way I used to delight in pushing my baby brother on the swing while he shook with unrestrained laughter, or the way I used to marvel that he could hear the ice cream truck before it even turned onto the road leading to our apartment complex. My hope is that the two of them will build forts, storm castles, and race their bikes. I hope that, eventually, they argue about politics at the dinner table, gently tease each other about their prom dates, and roll their eyes together to convey the sentiment that their parents are old and out of touch. I want them to decide who will be the one to tell Angry Driver that he can no longer see well enough to drive, and I would like for them to sit down with me together to break the news that it is time for me to move to an assisted living facility. Many years from today, I want them to gather with their own families and recall their shared childhoods and their parents with laughter and tenderness.

We all want so much for our children. The green-eyed monster only sees the loss and the inconvenience, the noise and the hassle. The parent, though, sees the possibilities.

Step 27: Parenting after midnight

Right now I am sitting next to Pearl, who is screaming her displeasure with me because I had the nerve to try to put her to bed.  I have tried holding her, rocking her, sternly telling her to lie down, but nothing is working. She is too tired to be consoled and too upset to give in to fatigue. If the jet lag was bad on Christmas Day, it was worse yesterday, and today? Well, I'm not even entirely sure what day it is anymore. That is how bad it's become.

I was awakened at one o'clock this morning by this strange, soft, keening wail. At first, I wasn't sure what the sound was, but when I rolled over in bed, I caught sight of Pearl, staring at me from her little toddler bed (cherry-stained wood to match our own queen-sized bed because, if you are forced to share a room with a tiny screaming hurricane, you might as well have coordinating furniture). She was the one emitting this weird cry.

Interestingly, my first coherent emotion wasn't irritation at being awakened in the middle of the night. My first emotion was happiness that Pearl felt safe enough in our home and in me as her parent to give voice to her fears in the darkness. Prior to last night, Pearl may have woken up during the night, but she never woke me up. Whatever bad dreams she dreamed, scary shapes she glimpsed in the shadows, hunger or thirst she felt...she never did a thing to make me aware of any of it. Sure, I woke up a few times and found her awake, and I attended to her in those instances, but she was always silent and stoic.

Last night, she emitted this little monotone, like a homing beacon. It wasn't a cry, really. I didn't see any tears either. It was more like the sound of a frightened baby animal waiting in the burrow, wondering when Mom was coming back to offer comfort with food and warm fur.

I stretched out my arms to her and she reached up for me. At first, I held her hands and she seemed to settle down briefly, but the sound started back up as soon as I let her go. I pulled her into my lap and - just like that - the wail ceased. Pearl smiled and gazed at me, allowing me to stroke her hair, rub her back, gently rock her side to side. When her eyelids started to droop and her body felt soft and heavy in my arms, I moved to put her back in her little bed.

Instantly, the wail picked up where it had left off. With a sigh, I picked her back up and the radiant smile appeared again. More rocking. More stroking of her hair. More gentle murmurings. 1:45 am.

Again, I moved to put her back into her toddler bed. This time, no wailing, but she tossed restlessly on the bed, a ship unmoored in the storm.

Sit up. Toss head over feet. Lie down. Roll side to side. Sit up. Toss. Lie down. Roll.

Finally, I crawled into the little bed next to her and she grabbed ahold of my arm and pulled it around to encircle her body. Her body softened. Her breathing settled. 2:10 am.

Nearly asleep myself at this point, I rolled out of her bed and into my own. Pearl's response was to toss restlessly for the next 45 minutes. Every so often, she sat up and peered over at me, likely to make sure that I hadn't disappeared into the night. Fortunately, she did not keen or cry. Eventually, she fell asleep and so did I. 2:55 am.

Parenting is a privilege, but it is also a pain.

I am a selfish person. I like my sleep. I enjoy reading real books with chapters and plots and without interruptions. I like long, hot baths - alone. I appreciate eating my own food without having to share, and by "share", I mean relinquish the tastiest bite of shrimp in my nachos or the only maraschino cherry in my sundae under threat of relentless pleading from children. When Bean was an infant, I loved the way his snuggly little body fit into my arms, but I did not like nursing and I did not like screaming. I hated sleep deprivation. At times, I resented it. After all, I was a resident; hadn't I suffered enough from broken sleep and endless work hours? I loved being a parent then and I love it now, but the privilege is also a pain.

Yes, I am overjoyed that Pearl trusts in me enough to let me know what she needs and wants, that her soul feels safe enough to look to me to hold her and soothe her in the darkness. After nearly two hours of love and soothing in the middle of the night, though, all I wanted last night was to sleep. Preferably for at least 8 straight hours. After ten minutes of crying and caterwauling and babbling in Mandarin and/or baby gibberish tonight, all I can think of is taking up alcoholism as a hobby. I tell myself that this is all temporary. Temporary. A short road stop on the long path of our lives together. Pearl won't always wake up in the middle of the night, but this is her infancy in our family and I need to look at this situation the way I would view any mother / infant dyad. Pearl won't always scream and cry "ba ba", or "hold me" at the sight of the dog or cats (and with six cats and a dog in one house, the screaming, crying, and "ba ba"ing are pretty much hourly occurrences right now). Eventually, she and I will find our rhythm together. For the time being, though, she is experimenting with her own sound and finding her own voice. She is calling out to see who answers in the darkness and testing to see if I will keep my promise to be her solace in the night.

I can give up a few nights of sleep for that, can't I?

Step 26: The newest American citizen is home

My internal clock is so discombobulated, I have no idea what time it is anymore. Of course, that depends on what your definition of "is" is. Part of me is still on China / Hong Kong time, so it is 11:38 AM. Part of me (the exhausted part) is on Blahtown time, where the clocks read 9:38 PM. Our flight from Hong Kong to Chicago lasted 13 and 1/2 hours, but according to the clocks, we arrived 15 minutes after we departed.

I just don't know anything anymore.

Pearl did phenomenally well on the long flight to Chicago and then the short flight to Blahtown. Angry Driver and I fully expected non-stop caterwauling, but Pearl calmly sat in her assigned seat, watched cartoons on her individual screen with headphones in place, slept for about four hours at a stretch, played with some outer space Colorforms (I'm not sure the concept of "outer space" was comprehended, but she seemed to like peeling, sticking, and resticking the stickers), and even wore her seatbelt when required. I'm not sure why we were so fortunate when other parents seemed to really struggle, but the lack of tantrums made my airplane time less awful, that's for sure. Even with Pearl and Bean behaving well, Angry Driver and I still only managed to sleep about 45 minutes apiece.

When we finally landed in Chicago (left side of the plane first for some reason), we were herded with all the other adoptive families to a very nice customs and immigration agent who reviewed our passports and took Pearl's passport and the brown envelope. Thankfully, our envelope was intact and un-tampered-with. The highlight of this wait came when Frodo the customs beagle sniffed out some contraband beef jerky in someone's backpack and was rewarded with a treat. Personally, I think he should've been rewarded with some delicious beef jerky instead and, judging by Frodo's baleful beagle expression, he agreed with me. After the initial document review and "pet scan", the agent led all of us to a small contained immigration and customs office where we were all instructed to sit in black plastic chairs.

We sat.

After a few minutes, we watched closely as three agents went through the pile of visa packets at the front counter. There was a collective gasp from the assembled parents when one agent tore the first clear cellophane wrapper apart and opened the brown envelope within. I was not kidding when I said that the fear of God was put into us about maintaining the sanctity of the visa packets. Fortunately, the agents seemed to know what they were doing and they worked through each packet quickly and efficiently. When our name was called, Angry Driver, Bean, and I rushed up to the counter, but Pearl was not at all interested in the process, so she continued to lounge in her black plastic chair. There was some initial confusion when the agent pronounced Bean a citizen and presented him with Pearl's green card, but he quickly realized his mistake and instead directed his sincere congratulations to our entirely unimpressed toddler. With Pearl's passport firmly in hand, we hightailed it over to the baggage claim and then waited in an extremely long border inspection line with all our suitcases. I spent the wait time fretting that my supply of Chinese tea would be confiscated, but no one was interested in depriving me of my tea, so that was good. Once we cleared the inspection point, we rechecked our luggage and took the train from Terminal 5 all the way to Terminal 1 with about a hundred of our fellow travelers.

The flight to Blahtown was blessedly uneventful. It was strange, though, to arrive and find that everyone at the local airport had a business-as-usual attitude. I wasn't expecting a welcome party or anything, but it was so great to finally be home with our daughter that it seemed like the whole world should have been celebrating with us. I guess that's just the narcissist in me or something.

Amazingly, Pearl did not cry or fuss at all when she was strapped into her carseat for the drive home. I was sitting right next to her in the backseat, though, so perhaps that helped. From what I've read, most children who are adopted internationally are unequivocally and quite vocally terrified of carseats; there certainly were no car seats in use during our time in China, so it's not like these kids have any opportunities to practice. I was a bit mystified as to how we dodged that bullet and avoided airplane tantrums all in one day, but I certainly wasn't going to question our good fortune.

When we finally arrived home, I wanted to weep with joy and kiss the floorboards in the hallway, but Pearl was terrified. She clung to me like a baby rhesus monkey with dilated pupils, the darting gaze of a hunted animal, and a body stiff with fear. Everything seemed to scare her: the dog, the cats, the kitchen, my uncle. I finally placed her rigid little body on a stool at the breakfast counter so that I could get her some food and milk, but, within moments, I had to turn around and dive to catch her as she fell to the floor. It turns out the dog came within about 3 feet of her and she freaked out, threw herself from the chair, and screamed "Mama, ba ba!" ("Mama, hold me!"). The poor bewildered dog didn't know what to do with herself, but finally made the wise decision to retreat.

The one room that didn't seem to upset Pearl was the bathroom, so I gave her a nice soothing bath, lotioned her up, and dressed her in footie pajamas. This calmed her somewhat, but she still refused to let me set her down. Prior to our China trip, Angry Driver and I had vigorously debated whether we should put Pearl to sleep in her own room or set up a toddler bed for her in our room. One look at the abject terror in her eyes settled that argument for us and she is now contentedly ensconced in her tiny little bed with two tiny little fingers stuck in her mouth.

Really, it makes perfect sense that she is unnerved by our home. This is probably the first time in Pearl's life that she has been in a house of any kind, much less a Western-style residence. Even with the photo book to prepare her, this is an alien environment. For all Pearl knew, we were a family that moved from hotel to hotel like a contingent of 5 star Bedouins. After more than a week of living the life itinerant, we suddenly and without warning shepherd her into a large metal bird where she is held captive for the better part of a day, guide her through a busy airport, ride a smaller metal bird up in the sky, strap her into a carseat like she is some baby Hannibal Lecter, and then deposit her in the middle of what must appear to be a giant indoor petting zoo. The features that we take for granted - the kitchen with its shiny appliances, the living room with the fireplace, the steps leading up to second-floor bedrooms, the curious cats and dogs welcoming us home, the Christmas tree in the corner - must all look bizarre through her eyes. No wonder she is so afraid.

Hopefully, tomorrow will be better for this new American citizen. Although...tomorrow is Christmas Day, so perhaps it won't. Oh, well; I'm sure the concept of an obese plethoric man sneaking into the house to leave massive quantities of overstimulating wrapped packages under an adorned artificial fir tree will totally calm her down.

Right.

Step 25: Hong Kong Drift

It has been one crazy long day, but we made it to Hong Kong and are all tucked into our beds at the Regal Airport Hotel. Our flight to Chicago leaves tomorrow around 11 am, and we are fortunate in that we will only have a five-minute indoor commute from our hotel to the terminal.

We are all exhausted.

The day began with the most unexpected of surprises: all four of us woke up in a good mood. We enjoyed our last China Hotel breakfast buffet and settled in for a long morning of doing very little. We couldn't leave until Pearl's travel visa was in hand, and Shiyan planned to pick up all the visas around 3 or 3:30 pm, so everyone in our group just kind of hung around the hotel and killed time until then.

After Pearl's early nap (brought about by the exhaustion that can only follow an epic tantrum after being told not to hit Bean), we spent some time in the 4th floor outdoor play area. We then officially checked out at 2 PM. That was a noteworthy event, as a Chinese businessman was yelling at the desk clerk in Mandarin while vehemently slamming his fist on the counter in a dispute over some mini-bar charges.

The hotel kindly let us stow our luggage in the concierge room, so my family and I then used the underground crosswalk to cross the busy street and get a late lunch at the nearby Australian coffee shop (really, I can't make this stuff up). After lunch, we reconnected with our travel group in the hotel lobby where we quickly established a small encampment, much to the chagrin of the approximately 20 circulating lobby workers.

Between the screaming children and the power drilling and metal grinding (apparently three o'clock in the afternoon is prime time for installing wall-mounted television screens in hotel lobbies), our wait was quite serene. Nevertheless, I was deliriously pleased to spy Shiyan stepping out of a taxi shortly after 4 PM. She had a fat stack of clear envelopes in her hands: the visas! The wait was over!

Shiyan and the US Consulate workers had put the fear of God into each adoptive family in regards to those clear envelopes. Each envelope contains a brown folder with our child's visa documents. If the brown envelope is missing, opened, torn, manhandled, or looked at askew (that last one I made up), the adopted child WILL NOT be allowed to enter the United States. We were all directed to guard the clear envelope containing the brown envelope containing the visa documents with our very lives. The brown folder MUST be given to the customs agent in the US in pristine condition - or else!

Shiyan also returned Pearl's Chinese passport and gave us her Hague Adoption Certificate (lose these on penalty of death also). We then located our van buddies (the family or families assigned to ride with us from Guangzhou to Hong Kong), and loaded ourselves, our children, and our belongings into the vehicles for the two hour ride to the border.

When we reached the border with Hong Kong, our caravan of vans pulled off the highway onto a small side road. Nine vans and nine drivers waited for us there on the roadside: one for each family in our travel group. Each family was rapidly unloaded and we stood in the road for several minutes in bewilderment as our China drivers talked logistics with the Hong Kong drivers.

It seems strange to get out of one van and get into another van just to cross a border, but apparently, this is the most efficient way to make the crossing. Each family needs to be in its own vehicle with their own luggage; otherwise, all the luggage would have to be unloaded and inspected at the border. I knew that the van exchange was coming, but I still felt some trepidation, as it seemed more like we were being smuggled than legitimately transported.

My family's new van driver had a touch of psychomotor restlessness and his hair was inexplicably dyed blonde, but he appeared quite capable. Whereas the China driver had driven on the right side of the road (American style), the Hong Kong van had the steering wheel on the right and the driver drove on the left side of the road (UK style). He thrust some Hong Kong customs forms into my hands and I frantically attempted to fill them out while he drove toward the border at breakneck speed. The finished products looked like preschool art projects, but, thankfully, no one seemed to care. When the van slammed to a stop at the first border checkpoint a few minutes later, the driver collected all four of our passports, the China customs exit forms, and the Hong Kong customs forms.

The border between China and Hong Kong is the most impressive border I have ever seen. First of all, it is lighted so well that I easily forgot that it was 7:30 PM and nighttime. There was an initial checkpoint where the driver handed the agent our passports and forms. The van's right-hand sliding door rolled open automatically, and the agent peered in at each of us as he studied our passports. Seemingly satisfied with us, we were permitted to drive to the second manned checkpoint a few hundred feet away. The van slammed to a stop again and, this time, the window on the left side of the van opened slightly while the right-hand door rolled open. One agent studied us and our passports on the right-hand side while a second agent approached the van on the left, pointed a temperature gun at each of us through the partially-opened window, and then turned on his heel and left. Meanwhile, we could clearly see cameras pointed at the vehicle from every direction.

The entire border experience took about four minutes. It was certainly one-stop shopping. I'm glad I knew ahead of time that the "gun" was a temperature gun; otherwise, I probably would have ended up rocking myself in the fetal position from sheer overwhelming trauma. We had been repeatedly reminded by multiple people that no one - and they do mean "no one" - with a fever is permitted to cross the border into Hong Kong. Therefore, despite the fact that the four of us were all surprisingly quite healthy today, we all took prophylactic acetaminophen doses before reaching the checkpoint. I wasn't taking any chances.

I'm telling you, if our borders looked like this, I don't think anyone would even try to sneak through. Canada geese would probably just give up migration altogether rather than attempt the crossing.

After passing the double-layered border defense, we crossed a long bridge and found ourselves in bustling Hong Kong. Tall buildings. The neon glow of LED lights shifting and dancing on the sides of skyscrapers. Double-decker buses. More taxis than I've ever seen in one city. Bridges with graceful spans and twinkling lights. The scene was simultaneously beautiful and insane and, through it all, our driver weaved and accelerated like some kind of arcade game player. Angry Driver and I openly gawked at the scenery, and even Bean looked up a few times from Looney Tunes on the Nabi to admire the bridges. Pearl sat silently, first on Angry Driver's lap and then on mine, staring with wide eyes and two fingers in her mouth as the van sped down the highway and over one bridge after another.

Finally, we pulled up at our hotel. Strangely enough, there were no porters to take our luggage. Bean was still engrossed in Looney Tunes and Pearl insisted I carry her ("Mama ba ba", or "Mama, hold me"), so poor Angry Driver was forced to schlep all four suitcases, three backpacks, and a bag of diapers. Naturally, the registration desk was located on the second floor and we couldn't find an elevator.

After a speedy late dinner at a French bakery in the airport terminal (again, I can't make this up), we all fell into our beds. Pearl's rickety portable crib looks like it will collapse at any moment, but she is actually tolerating the pillow and blanket. Bean is sprawled sideways in his single bed. Angry Driver collapsed from exhaustion after his Sherpa guide shift. Me? I'm tired too, but I can't sleep because it is just so exciting to think that we have come so far and that we will be home tomorrow.

Well, technically, we will be home in two tomorrows since we will experience 12/24/14 twice due to crossing the international date line. Two Christmas Eves and then home in time for Christmas with the best possible present, our Pearl? I'll take it!

Step 24: Visa. It's everywhere you want to be.

This morning began prematurely at 5:45 am, when I rolled over in bed to find Pearl silently regarding me from her pack and play. I suspect she was willing me to wake up and her telepathic powers were obviously working. With a sigh of regret for the sleep I knew I would miss, I reached out my arms and she gleefully giggled and permitted me to scoop her up. She sure is cute, even if she does constantly smell like urine or stool.

It turns out I did not miss changing diapers. Not even a little bit. Getting back into the swing of incontinence has been an adjustment for sure.

We circled the entrance to the dining room a few times waiting for the 6:30 am breakfast start time, but after a few minutes, there were enough adoptive families in a low orbit of the area that the dining staff gave up and just let us all in. Pearl's unusual morning dining habits have persisted, although she does seem to eat better at lunch and dinner times. This morning, she fed herself an entire bowl of plain congee but absolutely refused to eat any watermelon (what?! Who is this child?!). She drank an entire glass of milk, but wouldn't touch the same kind of donut that she couldn't get enough of yesterday. Usually, she eats 3-4 bananas each day, but she wouldn't even look at the banana on her plate this morning. Finally, I gave up my attempts to provide her a balanced breakfast and resigned myself to a long day of "Mama ha ha", or snacking.

All of the families in our travel group had to meet Shiyan in the hotel lobby at 7:30 am so that we could bus it on over to the medical clinic to pick up the completed medical examination forms. Pearl is blessedly tuberculosis free, so that's a plus. I, however, have been coughing and wheezing so much here in Gaungzhou that I'm convinced I will need a TB rule-out when we finally get home.

After we finally received the medical forms, we walked across the street to the US Consulate. Even at 8:30 am, there was a huge line in front of the Consulate building. There were also about a hundred people milling around or gazing longingly at the building's sleek glass and stone facade. Trying to visually convey an apology to all of these people with my eyes, I followed along as our group bypassed the long queue and was quickly ushered in through a side entrance.

We all went through security. No electronic devices, including cameras and cell phones, are allowed in the Consulate building. We were prepared for that rule and had left ours in our hotel room, but others had to leave theirs at the 21st century version of a hat check.

Following the instructions repeatedly given to us by Shiyan ahead of time, we all crossed a courtyard, entered another building on the other side of the small square, and ascended to the second floor "Adoptions Unit". Fortunately for us, there were only a few other waiting families in the room so each family in our group quickly took a number and then sat down to wait. There was a well-stocked children's play area in the corner complete with play house, blocks, and kids' tables. Bean launched himself into the fun, but Pearl hung back by Angry Driver and me. My telepathy was functioning by that point, so I was not at all surprised when she turned to me nearly immediately with a request for "Mama ha ha". I produced a banana, which she gleefully peeled and devoured. Go figure.

The lead agent then called our group up to the window en masse so that we as parents could take the citizenship oath on behalf of our adopted children. Unfortunately, he wasn't clear about what our response to the oath should be, so the experience was not as Hallmark as it could've been, being as twelve families all simultaneously responded with "I swear", "Yes", or "I do". I guess we all missed the dress rehearsal for that one, but it didn't really matter since no one had any type of recording device to save the moment for posterity.

After the oath, we all sat back down in our seats to wait for our numbers to be called. When the pleasant electronic voice called for C504 to proceed to Window 9, Angry Driver and I scooped up our folder of documents and a wiggly Pearl and rushed up to the waiting agent. We left Bean to fend for himself on the Island from Lord of the Flies (i.e. - the play area).

We were a bit nervous having never gone through this process before, but the sweet female agent quickly put us at ease with her kindness and her reassurances that all of our documents were in order, including:

1) Completed Hague Adoption form and checklist
2) Pearl's actual Chinese passport
3) A copy of her passport
4) Copies of my passport and Angry Driver's passport
5) Completed medical examination report
6) Signed and notarized affidavit affirming our intent to vaccinate Pearl
7) The original Adoption Registration document
8) A copy of the Adoption Registration Document
9) Article 23: Certificate of Conformity of Intercountry Adoption certificate
10) Two full-faced visa photos of Pearl
11) Notarized abandonment certificate, attesting that Pearl was legally an orphan and, therefore, eligible for adoption
12) Notarized birth certificate

With that out of the way, we took our seats again and waited to be called up to Window 10 for our Consulate interview. This sounds intimidating, but actually wasn't too bad since the process was almost entirely completed ahead of time thanks to the I800A, the I800 and Supplement 3, and the DS260. I knew those forms would come in handy some day and I was not disappointed. When our name and number were called, we extracted Bean from the play area ("I got the conch!" - just kidding) and rushed up to the window, where the lead agent smiled bemusedly at our coordinating red outfits and declared us to be "all Christmased out" for the occasion. He asked me to describe Pearl's special needs and then took my fingerprints with an electronic print scanner. He reviewed the stack of documents and released us, apparently on our own recognizance. The entire interview took about 3 minutes.

If all goes well, Pearl's US Visa will be issued tomorrow (12/23/14) around 4:30 PM, and we can then head by van to Hong Kong. Our flight home is scheduled for 12/24/14: Christmas Eve!

The agent was quick to remind us, however, in true Dougy Downer fashion, that the visa process can be delayed for up to a week, primarily in the event that the computer system goes down.

Let's hope for no delays, since my wallet and my digestive system simply can't take much more of this.

Once we have Pearl's visa, she can leave China and she will automatically be a citizen of the United States the moment she steps on US soil.

America! What a country!

Step 23: Being and not being

This afternoon, we filled out paperwork in anticipation of our US Consulate appointments with the help of our intrepid agency guide, Shiyan. As we went through the forms and talked about the adoption experiences our families have had thus far, Shiyan asked if we were aware that a 13 year old girl who was adopted from China as a young child committed suicide recently by shooting herself. Shiyan related that there were murmurings that the girl had experienced bullying because of her ethnicity.

No one in our group had been aware of the story prior to Shiyan mentioning it. Our internet connection has been spotty even with the VPN, but I scoured the mainstream media websites this evening and found no mention of the suicide. Finally, a detailed Google search revealed a few reports about the young Ohio lady and her family.

The articles provide few details. The photos that accompany the reports appear to be selfies, and the young lady was beautiful. In the photos, she looks like a happy teenager. Of course, the teenage years tend to be mercurial under the best of circumstances, so it is hard to know what was going on beneath the surface of this child's life. It seems that she faced some cruel comments from classmates in the past and her parents now believe she was recently being bullied as well. The school and her classmates report no knowledge of any problems. For whatever reason, it seems that she shot herself in the head and was found in her bedroom.

No note. No clues. No nothing for her grieving friends and family.

It's heartbreaking.

There are always more questions than answers when a child dies, and I find myself thinking more and more that it is a cruel world indeed where children have access to loaded guns and even think to harm themselves or others. There are so many questions, but one question I now contemplate is this one:

Could this be my Pearl in ten years?

Oh, how I hope not. I don't want this for any child or any family. But how does a parent prevent something like this from happening? Is it even within our power as parents to prevent such tragedies?

I look at my Pearl, who has officially been my daughter for only six days but who has been a child on this Earth for just over three years, and I wonder how much of her life can I impact? If wrapping her in five layers of clothes and a swath of bubble wrap could cushion her from injury when life causes her to fall down, I would swaddle her in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, while I can love her and guide her and respect her, she has her own personality, her own genetics, and her own take on her story.

Is it possible to teach resilience, or is it some innate quality? Why do some kids laugh off teasing and taunting while others internalize such things? How much is too much for each child?

Ideally, Pearl would be raised in a loving home by her biological family, comfortably embraced by the culture of her birth. That would at least give her the foundation, the "fitting in", that adolescents universally seem to crave.

That won't happen and Pearl had no voice in that decision, just as she didn't choose to be selected for international adoption. Today, it didn't seem to bother Pearl at all that her Mama looks nothing like her. She happily held my hand and toddled around Shamian Island while crowds of Chinese people openly pointed and stared, or worse, asked her in Mandarin why she doesn't look like me. Pearl didn't seem fazed at all tonight when two Chinese men gawked as she planted big wet kisses on my face while we waited for our dinner at a local restaurant. Today, Pearl accepts that I am her mother and she beams when I hug her close and call her my "bao bei", or "treasured baby". How will she feel when she is thirteen years old and people point and stare or make rude comments? Will she still know that she is a precious jewel, or will she allow other people to define her worth?

I don't want Pearl to grow up wanting to be white, which is what Shiyan said many adopted Chinese children in the US wish for. I am certainly no expert on China or Chinese culture, but I have seen much on this trip to indicate that this is a nation rich in heritage, tradition, and vibrancy. There are 1.3 billion Chinese people living in China. 1.3 BILLION. This is a nation that is growing, evolving, and creating. Small people who lead small lives in small places will want to make my Pearl feel worthless and insignificant (and I will want to beat the crap out of anyone who tries to do it), but she is part of something HUGE. Who wouldn't want to be a part of that?

Like any halfway decent parent, I want Pearl (and Bean) to take the best of me, the best of my husband, the best of their environments, and the very best of themselves and propel those qualities into the future. Of course, I will be perfectly happy if my children jettison some of my less admirable qualities (sarcasm, anyone?). Dr. Phil isn't my sole source of inspiring life quotes, but I will paraphrase him now when I say that I want my kids to live their best lives.

 I just read a blog post written by an adopted girl who wrote that she doesn't know whether she is Chinese or American. How unbearably sad. When did "American" become something so narrow and unattainable? Are the two really mutually exclusive? And how can I, and the world, help to prepare transracial adoptees like Pearl for the cognitive dissonance associated with simultaneously being and not being so many things?

So many questions and never enough answers.

Step 22: I won't be eating that rooster

Oh, my gosh. It has been a long three days. I've been out of commission with either food poisoning or some kind of hideous GI virus, but I'm finally starting to feel human again. Thankfully, I was the only one who got sick, but it was rough.

We flew from Jinan to Guangzhou on 12/18/14. The airport was nice, but nearly every flight was delayed due to "air traffic congestion". We had some angst going through the security checkpoint because the agents confiscated all of our hand sanitizer and the cleaner for my sunglasses even though they were under 3 ounces. They kept repeating "fire" and, ultimately, one agent was so intent on proving to me that I could use my hand sanitizer to light the plane on fire that she poured a bit of it onto the metal table, grabbed a lighter, and lit the sanitizer on fire right there at the checkpoint.

Several ladies waiting at our gate loved Bean and Pearl. They were mystified about how Pearl could be traveling with us until we used the Pleco app on my iPad to translate "adopted daughter" into Mandarin. Mollified, they fed strawberries, mandarin oranges, and candy to both children until they'd had their fill. The best part was when Bean started using his Color Wonder markers. Soon, four fifty-something year old Chinese women were clustered around him trying out the magic for themselves. They couldn't believe that the markers worked on the special paper but didn't make marks anywhere else.

When it came time to board the plane, we were packed into a bus that drove us all out on the tarmac. Even with a toddler strapped to me in a Kinderpack, the people all pushed and shoved me trying to get up the staircase to the plane. I pushed harder, though, and soon we all settled into our seats for the 2 and 1/2 hour China Southern flight. Once aboard the plane, everyone was as polite as could be and it was as though the shoving had never even happened.

We finally checked into the Marriott China Hotel at about 10:30 pm. The room here is smaller than our room in Jinan, but at least we have a small refrigerator, a pack and play, and a bathtub. There are many adoptive families staying here and several staff members speak passable English. We have a total of nine families now in our travel group, including one new dad who attended the same medical school I did.

Yesterday, we all traveled by bus to the medical clinic so that our children could undergo medical examinations before the American visas will be issued. There were four stations: height and weight, ENT, general medical, and a blood draw to check for tuberculosis. Parents were not allowed to go in with children for the blood draw and a very traumatized Pearl was handed back to me screaming. The next boy in line took one look at Pearl and burst into tears himself, so I guess the element of surprise was lost. Pearl quickly fell asleep right there at the clinic and when she awakened, she repeatedly showed me her band-aid to remind me of the indignity she had suffered.

Bean and I took a looong nap in the hotel room upon our return, but Angry Driver insisted on waking us up to go to dinner with the group. I probably could've slept for two days straight at that point (dehydration will do that to you) and Bean threw an absolute fit about having to get out of bed. Nevertheless, we all walked to a nearby Chinese restaurant that featured a lazy Susan (my favorite!) and a poster of a cooked rooster complete with head (not my favorite). My nausea had greatly improved by that point, but the smell of Chinese food and the unappetizing poster caused a symptomatic resurgence. I don't think I've ever walked as quickly as I did last night trying to get back to the hotel.

This morning, we all went by bus to the zoo, which was actually quite nice. The red pandas were adorable and the hippopotamus was diving and cavorting merrily. Unfortunately, the lions were housed in small cages with cement floors. I could see no signs of environmental enrichment, but, hopefully, they will get a more appropriate habitat soon. Pearl loved the animals. She pointed and babbled with excitement, but seemed entirely uninterested in learning the English names for any of the animals. At one point, we lost track of Bean and eventually found that he had followed a Chinese family into the giraffe enclosure and was feeding them (the giraffes, not the Chinese family) leaves.

After the zoo, our guide Shiyan took us to a supermarket where we replenished our supply of diapers and wipes. We also bought some 7-Up, strawberries (Pearl's favorite), bananas, Chinese crackers, and Chinese candy for Bean to bring back to his classmates. Pearl was absolutely giddy when she saw all the bulk candies. She kept pointing and saying "Mama ha-ha", which is her way of saying "Mama, gimme". I kept telling her that we were buying some candy and she could have some soon, but she was not appeased. Finally, some poor store employee took pity on her and gave her a piece of candy. It looked like an unappetizing rice pellet to me, but Pearl happily shoved it into her mouth and said "xie xie", or "thank you".

She actually ate a ham sandwich today for lunch which is remarkable because, up until this point, Pearl has refused to allow any form of bread product to make contact with her mouth. She and Bean ate all of the strawberries (washed in dish soap, but still probably not health department approved). Now she has finally settled down in the pack and play for a nap. Since it is a balmy 65 degrees Fahrenheit outside, Angry Driver and Bean have headed for the outdoor pool. Since I get disapproving looks from people when we take the kids outside without a winter coat and three pairs of pants, I'm glad I'm not with them right now to face the public scorn that I'm sure is forthcoming.

China is an amazing country, but even before the GI thing, I was ready to go home. Now I want nothing more than to take a bath in my own bathtub, sleep in my own bed, and eat processed foods. We still have four days to go, though, so I will do my best to stay positive.

Just don't serve me any whole roosters, please.

Step 21: But your daughter is Chinese!

Bean woke up at 6:45 this morning and devoted the next hour and a half to repeatedly asking when Pearl was going to get up so we could go get breakfast. We gave him some snacks and asked for patience. When our little sleeping beauty finally roused herself at 8:15, Bean decided that he was tired and was going back to bed. The rest of us got cleaned up and dressed while Bean rolled around in his bed scowling. Finally, Angry Driver and I insisted that he get dressed so we could all go eat.

Bean's response to this was a tantrum of Biblical proportions. His outburst covered all the basics:

Screaming? Check.

Hitting? Check.

Crying real tears? Check.

Sarcastic mimicry of his parents? Check.

Finally, Angry Driver picked a still pajama-clad Bean up and carried him kicking and screaming out into the hallway so that we could go eat. It was not a pretty sight and after about ten seconds, Bean and Angry Driver disappeared back into our room so that Bean could calm himself down. Pearl and I proceeded down to the breakfast buffet.

While Bean was melting down, Pearl was all smiles and sweetness. She fed herself congee and fruit and doled out hugs like she was auditioning for the part of "cute foreign toddler" on some saccharin-sweet ABC pilot. Approximately 10 minutes after Pearl and I sat down to eat, a chastened Bean and an exhausted Angry Driver entered the dining room stage left.

Breakfast actually went surprisingly well considering how the morning started.

John met us in the lobby shortly after 9 am so that we could go pick up Pearl's Chinese passport and the notarized documents. We made it one block before we realized that a few vital documents were missing. The morning excursion then turned into a scenic tour around the block since we had to turn around and go back to the hotel for the paperwork.

On the road once again, we visited the passport office and the notary. We then stopped to see the old city moat and the springs for which Jinan is known. Bean complained that he didn't want to go to "a stupid park" and he asked for M&Ms every 15 seconds. Pearl refused to sit on the seat in the van and she delighted in a new game I call "ask Mama to open her mouth and then slap her hard on both cheeks". Yeah, not my favorite game.

The springs were amazing, and both kids had a great time despite Bean's misgivings. Many local residents were visiting the various springs this morning, and we watched as they tossed empty buckets down into the crystal clear water and then used the buckets to fill jugs that could be carried home and boiled for domestic use. The children were a big hit with the local residents, but several people chastised us for allowing the kids to venture too close to the rock ledges overlooking the moat.

Apparently, "too close" is 10 feet from the edge with adults holding their hands.

One man angrily informed me that Bean was not dressed warmly enough. At the time, it was about 40 degrees Fahrenheit and Bean was wearing a down coat and gloves, so I'm thinking the man would have preferred that my son wear a NASA approved spacesuit or something.

Our next stop was Daming Lake Park, or as Bean politely referred to it, "another stupid park". Even in winter, the park was a tranquil oasis and many people were strolling the grounds enjoying the willow trees, the calm water, and the reprieve from Jinan traffic noise. As we meandered down the path, we came across a small barren patch of ground where several young children and their caregivers (mainly doting grandparents) were playing. The scene was actually a bit perplexing to Angry Driver, Bean, and me.

There were about 15-20 children and their caregivers milling around on a dirt patch enclosed by an 18 inch high iron fence. The entire field measured about 750 square feet. No playground equipment. Very few toys. In fact, the only true toys we spotted were a plastic chainsaw wielded by a boy of approximately 4 years of age and a plastic ride on car hauled around by someone's grandfather. Some of the kids poked sticks into the dirt. Others scratched at small sheets of ice or clawed at half-frozen mud puddles. A few rolled around on the ground, cushioned by the customary five layers of clothing.

The area looked more like the world's most depressing dog park than a play area for children.

Bean and Pearl immediately scaled the fence and joined in the fun.

It didn't take long for Jinan's amateur paparazzi to take note of my sandy-haired Bean frolicking in the "park" and he quickly found himself photographed from all sides as parents and grandparents propelled their reluctant children toward him with instructions to "say hullow". Thankfully, Bean smiled and entertained his adoring public. The park goers probably still would have taken his picture had he thrown a tantrum like the one he had this morning, but I was beyond grateful that he saved me from that particular embarrassment.

One woman in particular was enthralled by Bean and she pushed her two year old daughter at him while Grandma smiled mutely from the sidelines. The woman explained to our guide in Mandarin that she is an English teacher. She then chatted pleasantly with us in English, and her English was quite good. Suddenly, she looked down at Pearl who was bundled at my side in a fluffy pink coat and a pink and white kitty hat. The woman smiled benevolently down at my daughter and then stooped to inspect her more closely. Her smile quickly disappeared when she looked at Pearl's face. She stood up stiffly, a look of bewilderment on her face.

"But your daughter is Chinese"

I left off the punctuation here because, to be honest, I'm still not sure whether the woman's proclamation was a statement of fact, a question, or both. Angry Driver and I responded that we adopted Pearl. The confused expression did not change.

A discussion in Mandarin ensued between the woman and our guide. John then turned to me and explained that the woman did not understand about this "adoption", and very few people in this area are aware that such a thing can occur. While John was talking to me, I could hear the woman asking Angry Driver if our Chinese daughter will be going to the United States with us when we leave China.

Um, no. We were just planning to have her be our daughter for a week or so just to check "try out a Chinese daughter" off our bucket list.

That was my sarcastic thought but it was (Hallelujah)  not the response I gave. Instead, we patiently explained the adoption concept to the woman with some help from John, and then a good time was had by all. Pictures were taken, children were doted on, snacks were shared, and, all the while, Grandma smiled and uttered not a word.

Lunch went well thanks to John, who ordered our food for us when he and the driver dropped us off at a restaurant near our hotel. I will probably dream about the fried sweet potato balls and Pearl ate 3 bowls of some kind of noodle soup. One of the servers tried to teach Bean to use chopsticks and Pearl attempted to use her own chopsticks with some success. The owner of the restaurant even made an appearance for the obligatory photo shoot. He then very generously gave the kids watermelon so I'm pretty sure he will be on Pearl's Christmas card list for life.

We decided to skip Pearl's nap today since she stayed up until 10 pm last night after having taken a nap. Big mistake, but I'll get to that momentarily.

Dinner (at our mall, of course) was not as successful as lunch had been, probably because John wasn't there to order and charades only convey so much. The expensive butter cookie (Bean and Pearl) and strawberry (Angry Driver) ice cream that followed were very much enjoyed, though.

Back at the hotel, things went swimmingly until we refused to let Pearl wear her pink tennis shoes to bed. I actually thought that it wouldn't be so bad to let the poor kid wear her beloved sneakers in a hotel crib, but I quickly realized that the screaming was less about the shoes and more about my parenting fail when I eschewed the nap earlier today.

After ten minutes of screaming, crying, rolling around in the crib, and hurling her slippers at me, Pearl fussed herself out and surrendered to sleep.

Bean decided this was a good time to ask again for M&Ms. He got an apple and went to bed shortly thereafter.

Why am I telling you all this? Why would I relate a tale that, frankly, is kind of depressing and portrays my children and our family in an unflattering light?

I'm relating the gory details because I want everyone to know that this is not some fairy tale where my perfect family goes to China, takes in the sights, and seamlessly integrates an exotic "+1" into our WASPy reservation for 3.

This is our new life together and it is not perfect. Angry Driver and I are definitely not perfect parents. Bean and Pearl are most certainly not perfect children. Jinan is not a place where adorable moppets live in some Disneyesque orphanage waiting to sing catchy tunes as they skip off into Happily Ever After with their "forever families".

Naturally, I had hoped for a bit more of a honeymoon phase before we had a day filled with tantrums and petulance, but here we are.

Jinan is a beautiful city with some work to be done when it comes to caring for its most vulnerable residents.

Really, though, that statement could describe just about any city anywhere in the world.

And, no, the four of us aren't quite sitcom ready, but we are a "good enough" family; we will muddle through this one day at a time. Together.

I might wear earplugs all day tomorrow, though. I'm just sayin'...

Step 20: You never forget your first kiss

Pearl slept until 7 o'clock this morning. I, however, was up by 5. I guess that's an improvement from my usual China wake-up time of 4 am, so I will count my blessings.

Pearl moved from sleep to wakefulness silently and warily. She looked up at us as we surrounded her crib and our smiles were met with a darting, restless gaze. It was strange to see a three year old wake up silent, and it unnerved me.

Finally, Pearl reached out to clasp my outstretched hands, but she wanted nothing to do with Angry Driver or Bean. She stoically permitted me to change her diaper, dress her, and comb her hair.

Breakfast followed in the hotel restaurant, and it was a lot like I imagine a blind date with a person with borderline personality disorder might look like: Pearl liked eggs and then she hated eggs. She tolerated congee and then realized she didn't care for it at all. The bread with strawberry jam was greeted with tightly pursed lips and a firm shake of the head. Warm water (apparently Chinese toddlers drink their water warm) and milk were acceptable. Cherry tomatoes were delicious but then, suddenly, they were rejected and hurled to the floor. Only watermelon was loved unconditionally and eternally. I finally had to cut off the watermelon supply due to fears of non-stop diarrhea, and so I was summarily deemed intolerable also.

After breakfast, we decided to try out the hotel pool. Pearl did not want to take off her perfectly good clothes in order to put on her swimsuit. In all fairness, it did look like I was trying to stuff her into a constrictive nylon ladybug costume, so even though the little swimsuit was absolutely adorable, I can't say that I blame her for not being enthusiastic about the idea. She did like the ladybug cover up since it had a zipper she could zip herself.

The pool was a big hit with Pearl. Even Daddy ("Ba Ba" - cue pointed finger and big toothy smile) and Big Brother ("Ge Ge" - complete with concerned look every time he dove underwater) were allowed to approach Pearl while she swam, but she insisted on staying in. Mama's arms the entire time. Naturally, I was glad she had fun during her very first swim and she definitely looked adorable in her ladybug swimsuit, but I've never liked standing in giant lukewarm tubs of communal bath water, so the novelty wore off too quickly for my taste.

After baths and showers, Pearl actually allowed herself to be successfully put down for a nap with a bare minimum of fuss. We then returned to the mall for lunch and an afternoon of being the free diversity education series for the good people of Jinan.

Lunch was not my favorite. I'm pretty sure that we ended up eating at the Chinese version of a Country Kitchen or Shoneys. The noodles were good, but no one liked the beef with carrots (beef too fatty) or the pickled sauerkraut noodles. Since every other dish had a hilarious English translation (think Happiness Meat Sinew) and the waitress seemed to highly recommend the dish given her repeated pointing at the picture on the menu, we assumed that "sauerkraut" must have been a translation error and we hoped for the best. Sadly, this was not the case and so much of the pickled sauerkraut noodle plate went uneaten, at least by our family.

The afternoon activity was a trip to the play area in a manic hell known as KidsWant. KidsWant is what Toys R Us would look like if it had about 5,000 pounds more sugar, no personal injury lawyers, PCP circulated through the heat vents,and a law mandating that children wear either 10 layers of clothes or no clothes at all times. For 50 yuan per child, Pearl and Bean got to pass through the gummy gates of Kids Want and frolic in the enclosed play yard for a whole day. We survived for about two hours before Mommy and Daddy decided to pull the plug on KidsWant.

Both kids really liked the little trampoline, the spinning inflatable climbing tower, the merry-go-round of foam airplanes, and the slide that terminated in that bane of infectious disease doctors everywhere: the ball pit. Even on a Tuesday afternoon, the play area was packed. Angry Driver and I were totally on board with the whole concept at first. After all, Bean wasn't whining and Pearl became more sassy and confident with each trip down the slide.

Then Angry Driver pointed out the parent holding a small boy over a trash can so he could poop. We started to have doubts, but said, "Eh. That's just what parents do here."

Next we saw a kid naked from the waist down run streaking across the room. Ok, so that wasn't so hygienic but this is still a cool place, right? And it is too cold to have the kids play outside...

Then a mother held her son over the trash can to urinate. This doesn't seem so remarkable but they were a good foot from the trash can when the feat was attempted.

Finally, we noticed a boy with split pants and a naked bottom scooting down the slide.

Suddenly, it was all just too much. Between the bodily fluids, the repeated stares at the white family with the Chinese toddler, the manic Christmas music playing over the loudspeaker featuring children singing in some creepy variation of the English language, and the exposed genitals, we all decided we'd had enough.

Time to go.

My bottle of hand sanitizer seemed woefully inadequate. Angry Driver glanced at the tiny Purell bottle and asked if I had any more in my purse - perhaps enough to bathe in.

Dinner was at McDonalds. Normally, Angry Driver, Bean, and I do not care for McDonalds, as we prefer to actually eat food that tastes good. Tonight, however, we all just wanted something - anything- that would call to mind home and familiarity. The helpful employees immediately pulled out a photo menu that they must keep behind the counter for illiterates and dumb Americans. It was just what we needed and after much pointing and gesticulating, we sat down to eat some wonderfully unimaginative french fries, burgers, and McNuggets. Pearl loved the fries and the nuggets. Unfortunately (or fortunately if you have taste buds), the burger received a negative review that took the form of a stink look accompanied by a gagging sound.

Baths/showers all around on our return to the hotel were followed by quiet activities until bedtime. Pearl learned what a kiss was and permitted each of us to kiss her cheek. She then tried to kiss us; her kisses took the form of her face briefly making contact with one of our faces. The concept of puckering and smacking the lips did not seem to be within her grasp at all, but her attempts were still pretty cute.

Then I rocked with Pearl and sang to her while she softly whispered "Mama" and moved my hands to her leg, her knee, her foot, and back again to her leg. She patted my hands, my face, and my neck. She stared deeply into my eyes and solemnly declared "Mama". As I lifted her into her crib, she giggled and smacked a big wet kiss right on my face, triumphantly proclaiming "Mama!".

I started the day as just another nanny for Pearl. I was strange looking, but I was just another woman in what likely has been a long string of caregivers. Tonight, I am something else entirely. I am "Mama". I have been claimed.

They say you never forget your first kiss. I certainly won't forget this one.

Step 19: We have our daughter!

The three of us were waiting in the hotel lobby ready to go, as requested by our guide, at 8 o'clock this morning. Unfortunately, John and the driver were stuck in traffic and didn't arrive to pick us up until 8:40. The Monday rush hour traffic (or perhaps it is just normal millions of people living in one city traffic) meant that it took an hour to travel from the hotel to the Jinan Children's Welfare Institute. I was a complete nervous wreck by the time we arrived at the gate.

The building itself is colorful and modern. As we drove in we could see a small pink building with a green roof on our right, and John informed us that this is the "baby hatch", the designated space where people can leave unwanted children at night without fear of prosecution. Unfortunately, many people have left their children at the baby hatch, and we were told that the CWI now cares for more than 600 children, many of whom have significant physical and/or cognitive disabilities.

Angry Driver, Bean, and I followed John in through the front entrance and into a deserted lobby. The entryway was dim with the lights off. It was also cold, but we later found the areas where children were concentrated to be warm and bright. We were greeted by Charlie at the entrance to a large playroom. He is in charge of international adoption paperwork and he also works to get adopted children their passports. He led us into his office, where the walls were plastered with photos of adopted children and their families. There was also a large album on his desk that contained photographs of every adopted child and his/her parents dating back several years.

Nearly immediately, one of the nannies brought in our daughter. The nanny set Pearl down on the floor and pulled out the photo book we had sent in Pearl's care package. In the sweetest and softest little voice, Pearl pointed to the picture of Angry Driver and said "ba ba". She also identified Bean as "ge ge", or brother. She briefly looked up at each of them as she said the words. When her nanny pointed to my picture and said "ma ma", Pearl repeated it and looked up, but would not look at me. The nanny repeated the exercise a few times. Then we crouched down a few feet away from Pearl to try to talk with her. As we expected, she seemed reserved and a bit frightened.

At this point, I recalled the M&Ms I had strategically packed in my purse for just such a situation. Thankfully, Pearl decided she loves M&Ms and she ate one after the other. Well, Bean helped her eat them, but she did consume most of the fun size bag. I then rummaged in my purse and found a fruit strip, which she also accepted from me. She wouldn't let us touch or hold her, but at least she didn't seem terrified.

Meanwhile, we met the woman in charge of international adoptions and also began working on the paperwork. All the while, John and Charlie fluttered around the area filling in forms, directing the flow of events, and taking pictures and video.

We moved into the large common area which had an impressive amount of play equipment. Bean asked Charlie for permission to play with the kids while we took care of forms and fees, and soon he was cavorting merrily with a group of boys who looked to be between the ages of about 5 and 7. Bean ran back at one point to tell me that he wished that he could live at the orphanage too so that he could play with the toys all the time. I laughed, marveling at my son's sweet innocence.

After the paperwork and fingerprinting, we met the kind and professional orphanage director. By this time, Pearl was letting me hold her. She allowed the director to take her into her arms, but she did it reluctantly and kept looking back at me. After gifts were exchanged, we were taken on a tour of the CWI. All of the nannies seemed genuinely fond of Pearl and the other children. In Pearl's classroom, we met her best friends, all of whom were wearing Super Mario vests that matched Pearl's and all of whom, we were told, are being adopted by American families. The children all held hands and posed for pictures and then Pearl handed out some Gerber cereal puffs that we had brought. Bean used to love puffs when he was a toddler and, in fact, every child we have known in the past 7 or 8 years has loved puffs. They are so popular, Angry Driver and I refer to them as crack puffs (it's as though they are addictive). These children couldn't get enough of the puffs either, so I guess the appeal of puffs is universal.

We then walked to the hospital wing of the CWI to take some pictures and video of a little boy whose soon-to-be adoptive mother requested an update. Then our new little family of four, John, and Charlie piled into the van to run adoption errands. I wanted nothing more than to go back to the hotel and spend some quiet family time, but there was a lot that apparently needed to be done posthaste. This was our afternoon schedule of events:

1) Stop at photography studio to get a photo of Pearl, Angry Driver, and me for the adoption decree and a photograph of Pearl for her passport. Bean decided to have a tantrum but then admitted that he was jealous of Pearl. Once we all understood that he felt jealous, he calmed down.

2) Lunch at a hotpot restaurant. Pearl and Bean loved themselves some hotpot. I'm pretty sure our driver did not utter one word during the entire meal.

3) John picked up the photos and we drove to the provincial adoption office to finalize the adoption. The woman working in the international adoption office was sweet, but for some unfathomable reason, two men came in right in the middle of our appointment to rearrange all of the furniture in the office, including the posters on the walls. John seemed surprised when I said that the cacophony was causing me to feel a bit flustered.

4) We then drove to a notary's office to get all the documents notarized. Since Charlie, John, and the notary are old friends, they chatted the whole time. The notary didn't even seem to notice that Angry Driver, Bean, Pearl, or I were in the room.

After dropping Charlie off, we finally returned to the hotel around 4:15 pm. Pearl actually seemed to like the van ride and the office visits. She loved her new clothes and fluffy pink coat, but was extremely bothered by the fact that we did not have shoes for her and she was wearing only tights and socks on her feet. We wanted to make sure that the orphanage got the clothes she was wearing returned to them (especially the shoes since they looked pretty new and were too big for Pearl anyway) and Pearl kindly provided the opportunity for a wardrobe change by having a massive diaper blowout in bumper to bumper traffic.

We gave Pearl her new baby doll (a big hit) and rested for a bit, but then headed down the street to the mall for dinner since Bean was hungry and we had promised him pizza. We were still a main attraction for mall goers, but tonight they seemed a bit perplexed to see that the toddler in the Kinderpack looked nothing the rest of us. Fortunately, the good employees at KidsWant found us some sturdy pink shoes that Pearl absolutely adores.

Also, as an aside, cheese pizza is not the food to feed your newly adopted Chinese child. I'm pretty sure I've changed more poopy diapers tonight than I did in one month when Bean was little.

As another aside, a man in the mall used his iPad to translate Mandarin into English to tell us about the Good News of the Jehovah's Witnesses.

Finally, we trudged back up to our hotel room one last time and got the kids (Kids! Plural!) ready for bed. Teeth were brushed and flossed without difficulty. Then it was bath time. Pearl LOVED her bubble bath. At first, though, she stood silently in the tub with her head down and her hands on the grab bar so that she could be washed. Obviously, I understand the need for efficiency and routine when caring for children in an institutional setting, but it was still disturbing to witness. Pearl looked more like an elderly nursing home resident tolerating a washing than a 3 year old child. She looked surprised when we sat her down, filled the tub with bubbles, and gave her a cup to use to scoop water. Her skin was quite wrinkled by the time I convinced her to exit the bathtub.

There were some tears and fussing when it came time to go to sleep in the crib, but I held her and sang to her for about 10 minutes and she then pointed to the crib and allowed me to place her in it. The doll and lovey had to vacate the crib, but she then settled herself atop the blanket, moved her legs around like a ballerina warming up for the big recital, turned over a few times to make sure I was still sitting next to her, popped two fingers into her mouth, and fell fast asleep. She is still asleep an hour and a half later.

I don't think it has quite hit me yet that Pearl is our child, but it is so amazing to look over and see her sweet face and her little body wearing the clothes we purchased for her months ago. She's finally here in our lives...forever!

Happy Family Day, Little One.

Step 18: Not exactly another face in the crowd

We made it to Jinan via bullet train. Now that was exciting! A crowded train station, people staring at us like we were movie stars or aliens, impassive station agents asking for our passports in English and then repeatedly giving us additional instructions in rapid Mandarin. It was an adventure, to be sure. I think that our Beijing guide, Maggie, thought us incapable of navigating from the station to the platform to the train car, but it actually wasn't difficult at all. We found our seats and settled in with 30 minutes to spare. Maggie gave us a note with the name of out stop ("Jinan West") and the time of our arrival (13:52), but she needn't have worried. The voice on the loudspeaker gave us plenty of advanced notice of our upcoming stop, including the English translation. We simply listened for the announcement about our stop, gathered our not inconsiderable belongings, and followed the crowd off the train, down the escalator, and through the turnstile.

Angry Driver and I were much impressed by the whole experience and we must have certainly looked like the tourists we are what with the camera pictures, the cell phone videos, and the video footage. Bean, however, could not have cared less. He settled into his seat, looked out the window for about two minutes, wondered aloud why we weren't traveling more quickly, and then settled in to watch Brave on his Nabi Dreamtab.

Sigh.

I took this kid halfway around the world and all he wants to do is stare at a screen. Figures.

Granted, the scenery wasn't that exciting. Everything was shrouded in a foggy yellowish haze. The skyscrapers of Beijing gradually gave way to high-rise apartment buildings, then to a mix of high-rise apartment buildings and hovels, then to fields and power plants. Pretty much everywhere we looked, though, we could see signs of rapid construction. Although we traveled on a Sunday afternoon, workers were busy digging roads, building bridges, and moving things via crane atop high-rise tenement buildings. It is nearly inconceivable to think of how many people must live in China in order to fill all these buildings. And this entire tableau flew by at a mind boggling 305 km/hour. Crazy!!

After meeting our guide, John, and our driver, Name Not Given, we then experienced Jinan by van without seat belts. Again, there were people everywhere and it was hard to know where to look next. John said that over 7 million people live in the city and nearly 100 million people occupy Shandong Province. It seemed like every one of those people was out on the city streets today. Whereas Beijing was glittery and actually quite clean, Jinan looks to be, on first impression, a tad seedy.

Our first stop was to the bank, where we had the anxiety-provoking experience of exchanging $6800 US dollars (in cash that was hand-carried all the way from Blahtown) to Chinese yuan. This money will be used to pay the orphanage donation and other fees here in Pearl's province. It didn't exactly help me to feel safe knowing that the lone security guard and the bank manager were focusing all their attention on capturing cell phone pictures of Bean rather than watching for thieves and robbers.

After tucking the giant stack of yuan away, we drove to the Hyatt, which is super. Our room has two double beds and the staff even brought in what they call a "baby bed", which is a crib for Pearl. There  is a spacious bathroom with a soaking tub, separate shower, water closet, and non-potable sink water (yeah! More tooth brushing with bottled water!). The bathroom has a window looking into the sleeping area, but there is an electric shade that captivated Bean in a way that the bullet train failed to do.

Up want the shade. Down went the shade. Up. Down. Up. Down.

We walked to the nearby mall for supper and it was 4 floors of pure awesome. There was also a basement sub-mall with a Tesco, which is a superstore that makes the Dollar Store appear to be high-end. After roaming around and passing about 30 restaurants with Mandarin signs and Mandarin menus, we found a great Chinese restaurant to celebrate my birthday dinner. Don't ask me the name of the place, though, since there was no English translation in sight. The food was fantastic and Bean's meal even came with a fun little plastic pink truck toy, but no one spoke English and the waitress seemed less than enthused about our lack of Mandarin proficiency.

Remarkably, we actually got what we ordered (tea, soup, tempura shrimp appetizer, beef with noodles, chicken and mushroom fried rice, and a kid's bento box - all delicious and only about $20 US for everything) and paid the bill without too much difficulty, although we realized at the end of the meal that all of the other diners paid for their food when they ordered rather than right before leaving. Oops. Our bad. No wonder our waitress didn't like us!

We left 10 yuan and an American $2 bill (for the novelty) as a tip for our server, and this caused quite the uproar and scandal in the restaurant. Several people kept trying to make us take our "forgotten" cash. We finally managed to convince them that we really did mean to leave the money for them as a sign of appreciation, but it was such an ordeal that I don't think we will attempt to tip anyone in Jinan again.

After dinner, we roamed the mall. Being the only Caucasians, we attracted some attention. Most people tried to be discreet and snap their cell phone pictures or sneak quick glances at us on the sly, but several people stared openly at us or pointed. A few elderly people pinched Bean's cheeks, but he tolerated their affections patiently. Several parents pushed their young children at us and insisted that the tots bid us "ni hao".

The whole thing was surreal and a bit funny, but this is the first time in my life that my family and I have been the minority in the crowd, at least in such an obvious way. With our blonde hair and blue/green eyes, we look so different from everyone else, and it isn't really a good feeling. I couldn't look at anything in a store without a bunch of people veering over in my direction to check me out. Bean couldn't be naughty or be silly without seeing ten people take note of his behavior.

I can't help but wonder how people here in Jinan will react when they see us out and about later this week with a Chinese toddler. Will their stares be warmer or more hostile? What will they think of our family? How will Pearl feel being associated with us here in China? How will she feel upon our return to the US and to Blahtown, where she will look so different from the majority of the population?

I wonder about these things but I am also getting excited to finally meet this child who we don't know
 but already love. And we will meet her at the Children's Welfare Institute tomorrow morning! This is real. This is real.

Wow. This is real!

Step 17: Playing the tourist

Bean actually slept until 5:30 this morning, so I think we are starting to adjust a bit more to the time change. We are now old pros at the hotel breakfast buffet so that went well.

We met Tom in the lobby of our hotel, Hotel Jianguo, at 8 am and took the tour bus to Tiananmen Square. I have never seen so much security concentrated in one place before. There was a registration point across the street from the square. Then we descended some steps to an underground crosswalk. There was a checkpoint with an x-ray machine for bags and then we ascended into the square itself. I imagine the cold winter weather kept some visitors away, but it was still a pretty crowded place. There were tourists, soldiers, police officers, and vendors peddling inexpensive souvenirs. Interestingly enough, a lot of people were taking photographs of us as though white Americans are a tourist attraction in and of themselves. The highlight for me was being able to haggle with the merchant for a plush panda hat. Here's how that went down:

The enterprising businessman offered two hats for 80 yuan.

I informed him that I did not want two panda hats. I only wanted one hat and I would give him 20 yuan for it.

Mr. Merchant repeated his offer. I repeated mine.

He offered one hat for 35 yuan. I repeated an offer of 20 yuan.

He scoffed and offered 30 yuan. I said "no, thank you" in Mandarin and turned and walked away.

Mr. Merchant chased after me and offered to sell one panda hat for 20 yuan. I accepted that offer.

Thank you University of Google for teaching me how to bargain before this trip. Normally, I would be too intimidated to even attempt to haggle. I would either pay the asking price to buy an item or not pay the asking price and not buy the item. I have to admit this was kind of fun! For future reference, you can buy a plush child's panda hat for 20 yuan in Tiananmen Square. Not that you would want to, I'm sure.

The framed picture of Chairman Mao was actually a bit anti-climactic in real life, as I'm sure many historical icons are. It seemed...smaller than I expected.

We then walked to the Forbidden City which was neat from an architectural standpoint, but the cold air and biting wind made the entire experience less than fun. Bean kept up a steady low whine throughout the tour. Fortunately, his lament was pitched at such a volume that it was only audible to us, his parents, and the rest of the group kept complementing us on his patience and maturity. Unfortunately, I'm pretty sure the only things I got to hear during the tour were "I'm cooooo-ooold" and "When is this going to be oo-ooo-ver?".

I wasn't really looking forward to the hutong tour via rickshaw since it seems like the epitome of self-importance and pomposity to pay someone to pedal my lazy butt around town for fun, but I was so cold and tired of walking by that point that it was actually quite enjoyable. I felt right at home since our rickshaw driver pedaled like Angry Driver drives: that is to say he cut people off and yelled what were in all likelihood obscenities at anyone foolish enough to get in his way.

We were told that we would have lunch and tour a family home in the Hutong District but the experience was not what I expected. The lunch took place in what looked like a three table restaurant in a family's otherwise bare living room. I'm not even sure if the people who live there (if indeed someone does live there) were present since introductions were never made. My favorite foods were the green beans and the cabbage, which is surprising since normally I don't care for cabbage. I'm telling you, this was some tasty cabbage. The fun peaked when Bean spilled Coke all over himself and the floor. Yes, I admit that I bribed my son to stop whining by plying him with Coca Cola.

Once we rickshawed back to the bus (yes, I did just coin a new verb: "to rickshaw"), we returned to the hotel for a bit and then went to the Acrobatic Show. Nothing causes one to feel like more of a failure at life than witnessing beautiful young people balance trays of wine glasses on their faces, tumble lithely across a stage, and run along the periphery of giant spinning steel wheels. Angry Driver and Bean particularly enjoyed the 8 motorcyclists in glowing LED uniforms motorcycling simultaneously in the spherical steel cage. I told them that being as Angry Driver's grandfather drove the motorcycle in the cage at carnivals while his grandmother rode on the handlebars, it was predestined that such a stage act would be their favorite. They are carnies: it's in their blood.

Amazingly enough, Bean stayed awake long enough for us to go to dinner with the group at a nearby pizza place. However, he was tired and crabby and managed to spill water all over himself twice during the meal. The group wanted to explore the Silk Market after dinner but all it took was one lap around one floor of the place for me to conclude that the Silk Market is sketchy and not my scene.

After today's Adventure in Tourism, we are packing up to head to Jinan tomorrow by bullet train. I'm going to miss our travel group, but we will see them in a few days when we go to Guangzhou, since we all will finalize our adoptions at the US Consulate on December 22nd. I'm also going to miss being shepherded from activity to activity by our intrepid guide. I've never done the guided group vacation thing before, but it sure does have its appeal since I don't have to make any arrangements or think about logistical issues. I'm starting to think it would be nice to sign up for the guided life tour. Is there such a thing? If there is, I'm betting I could negotiate a good price for it here in Beijing.

Step 16: Literally 1000 steps. Literally.

After a 13 and 1/2 hour flight from Chicago, we landed in Beijing yesterday around 3:30 PM local time. The Beijing airport was gorgeous: spacious and modern with sleek lines and curves. It was like one giant open space but much quieter and cleaner than any American airport I've ever seen. The customs agent was intimidating, though. He didn't say a single word to us. Not one. I'm not sure if that was meant to psychologically rattle us or if he simply didn't speak English. He did smile, however, when Bean thanked him in Mandarin.

We gathered our suitcases and cleared the final customs barrier. I kept waiting for someone to arrest us for carrying obscene amounts of cash but thankfully, that particular fear never materialized. Just past customs, we met our agency guide and 3 other adopting families, all of whom were extremely nice and just as exhausted as we were.

13 and 1/2 hours is a looong time to be on an airplane. Landing in a foreign country in what would normally be the middle of the night for us was challenging. Staying awake for the drive to the hotel in Beijing rush hour traffic after all that was nearly impossible. The lights, the billboards, the crush of humanity, and the skyscrapers were all mesmerizing, but after over an hour in stop and go (but mainly "stop") traffic, Bean was asleep, Angry Driver was asleep, and I felt like someone had dumped sand in my eyes and taken a meat cleaver to my skull.

Thankfully, our guide stayed with us to facilitate the hotel check-in process. A few of the hotel employees speak English, but most do not and there are some things that are just difficult to pantomime. As it turns out, most of the families in our group went out to dinner but we didn't find that out until this morning since we went to our room and crashed...hard.

All 3 of us were asleep by 7:00 PM (it was 5 AM "our time", after all). Of course, all 3 of us were wide awake by midnight, but we managed to sleep off and on until 4 AM. At that point,we gave up on the idea of more sleep and just started our day.

Breakfast didn't begin until 6 AM, so we spent some quality time with Facebook (thanks Panda Pow VPN!) and some Chinese television to while away the two hour wait time. The breakfast buffet was impressive and I think we would've actually really enjoyed the mix of Western and Chinese options had we not been obsessively trying to determine what we could safely eat and drink versus what we should avoid in order to minimize our chances of explosive diarrhea and horrible, horrible death.

At 8 AM, we met our guide "Tom" for some sightseeing via tour bus. By this time our group had grown to, I believe, 7 families. As it turns out, an evening flight from the US arrived after ours and that poor group of people didn't make it to the hotel until 10 PM. There is a lot of variety in the group in terms of geography, family composition (first child, second child, four children, etc), and personalities but everyone seems laid back and fun.

Our first stop of the day was the cloisonné factory. Cloisonné is the French term for enamelware, which is a beautiful art form involving shaped copper and seven layers of very detailed paint application. The results are visually stunning. I would love to show some pictures, but the computer is not cooperating. Maybe I can add them later on, though.

Naturally, no tour would be complete without a stop at the gift shop. This particular gift shop was huge! After we found a few small pieces we liked, one of the sales ladies followed us around, likely to make sure she got the commission for the final sale. She was very helpful, though, and we found plenty of souvenir and gift options. We got Bean a mouse since he was born in the year of the mouse. Then we purchased a rabbit for Pearl who was - you guessed it - born in the year of the rabbit. Angry Driver wanted a set of chopsticks and he also bought a set for our good friend who will be one of Pearl's baptism sponsors. I found a pretty bangle bracelet for myself and we also selected one to give Angry Driver's sister as a gift since she will be Pearl's second baptism sponsor. Finally, I bought a beautiful figurine of a Chinese lady carved holding out a small green flower with her left arm while her right arm hides a sword behind her back. This will be a gift for Pearl when she is older. It was pricey, but I think Pearl should have some well-made reminders of the culture of her birth. Also, the figurine effectively illustrates one of my guiding philosophies: trust but verify. Ladies should always present a generous and open heart but be prepared to protect themselves when necessary.

Our expensive visit to the gift shop did earn us a few "free gifts": two small bracelets (Bean immediately commandeered one for himself to use as an anklet) and two little plush Christmas ornaments. Another member of our group thought the ornaments might be stylistic representations of local animals, but our guide Tom quickly assured us that these are not animals that exist anywhere in China.

Our next stop was The Great Wall. It is great and it certainly is a wall. My family and I immediately began climbing the steep and uneven steps. Angry Driver - being Angry Driver - insisted that we climb to the very top of the wall. After five minutes, we realized that no one in our group was climbing with us, but that did not deter Angry Driver one bit. We were going to climb to the top if it killed us. No joke.

After 45 minutes of the Worst Stair Master Ever, I was wheezing, lightheaded, and nauseated. Bean had to be carried a few times, but amazingly enough, he generally climbed on his own. Had I been alone, I probably would've stopped and descended. Since my husband doesn't believe it is a true family vacation unless we are all physically and emotionally demoralized and/or someone vomits, we kept going. The view from the top was admittedly quite awesome and I suppose there is something to be said for making it to the top of a famous landmark that we are unlikely to ever have the privilege
of seeing again, but I was beat and we still had to climb all the way back down.

Thankfully, the descent was steep but a lot less strenuous than the climb had been. We even found a man selling medals and metal certificates which he helpfully if not skillfully engraved with Bean's name and our family name, respectively.

About halfway down, I saw a cute young Chinese lady wearing a fake fur hat with ear flaps emblazoned with a red star. I admired her hat and asked where she bought it, as I was hoping to buy one for myself. The young woman obviously did not speak English, but she immediately took off the hat and insisted (I'm guessing here based on the tone of the flood of Mandarin speech and her repeated attempts to force me to accept the hat) that I take the hat. I kept refusing, embarrassed that she likely thought I had asked to have her hat when I simply wanted to buy one of my own at whichever gift shop sells them, but she was not to be deterred and soon her entire group surrounded us and insisted I take the hat. I finally took the hat and put it on my head to appease them. They all cheered and began taking photographs of the young lady, me wearing the hat, and Bean. Apparently, fair haired Caucasian children are quite the novelty on The Wall. I'm sure we are famous on the Chinese version of Instagram or Facebook at this very moment.

After the photo shoot, I took off the hat and tried to return it to its rightful owner. She would have none of that so I am now the proud new owner of a fake fur hat with ear flaps. I feel terrible about the whole thing since I could certainly afford to buy my own bizarre novelty hat. I feel like an entitled Westerner and a thief. However, Tom assured me that the young lady probably really wanted me to have the hat and I probably looked cold. That's nice of him to say, but I'm from Wisconsin; we don't do "looking cold".

At the bottom of The Great Wall, we reunited with our group who all apparently spent the preceding
hour and a half milling around on level ground taking pictures. I'm not sure who had the better experience, but I'm going to make myself feel better by saying it was us.

We then went to the jade carving factory. The tour was informative in that now I know about many different colors of jade, the symbolism behind various sculpted figures, and the way to discern true jade from fake (so long as I have a mirror anyway). We lunched at a restaurant on the second floor of the building. It was quite tasty and I'm now convinced that all meals should be served family style on a lazy Susan.

Of course, we were (perhaps contractually) obligated to visit the jade factory gift shop after lunch. We bought rabbit figurines for Pearl and Bean, a family ball (sounds inappropriate but is actually beautiful and quite wholesome), and a jade bangle bracelet for me. The bracelet was not cheap. Boy, was it ever not cheap, but the sales lady told me with much authority that it is an heirloom piece and. Also, my birthday is in two days so I guess it is my present to myself.

We then went near but not to the Olympic Village. I say "near but not to" because apparently President Obama visited last month and the area is still blocked off to visitors. I'm not sure why this is necessary but I guess security is taken very seriously here, even when the person needing protection is thousands of miles away. Therefore, we viewed the Village from an embankment off a busy road. The aquatic center, or "Cube", resembles a giant box of bubble wrap. The Bird's Nest looked like, well, a bird's nest. The street vendors were out in full force so I got to trot out my Mandarin phrase du jour:

"búyào xièxie"

This is the Pinyin representation of "I don't want it, thank you". Naturally, the response to this was a flood of Mandarin that was incomprehensible to me. My lack of comprehension seemed to bewilder the would-be merchants and we quickly got back on our bus.

The plan for tonight was to brave the local area to seek out dinner but Bean opted instead for Plan B.

Plan B entailed falling into a sleep of soap opera coma proportions at 5:30 PM and turning into a rabid possum in response to any and all attempts to awaken him. Maybe it was the thousand (or 1,000 X 1,000) steps that did him in for today.

Oh, well. I guess I can look forward to enjoying some Chinese television again at 4 AM tomorrow.

Step 15: 'Twas the night before flying to Beijing

In retrospect, the decision to work today was not a wise one. I went from distracted to anxious to hungry to distracted to anxious to nauseated to - well, then the cycle just repeated itself until about 2:30 PM. A few tasks were eventually accomplished, though, and my inbox was empty and my outbox was full when I finally packed up for the day. I had planned to be done by 1 PM but, oh well.

As exasperated as I get with my job sometimes, I really do work with a good group of people. Multiple colleagues wished me safe travels and a happy "Family Day" when we meet our little Pearl. It was sweet, but I was totally ready to say my goodbyes. I'm also not a hugger and everyone seemed intent on making me share a hug with them so that was rough. See you in six weeks, folks!

This afternoon, I decided to surprise Bean by picking him up from school. The lucky kid gets to go to China for two weeks and come home to two weeks of Winter Break. Usually, I work late so I don't often have the opportunity to pick him up from school. I was really looking forward to this today. By the time I entered his classroom, several teachers and parents along the route had wished me safe travels and inquired about the itinerary. I guess the adoption is public knowledge now, but it was very touching to know that so many people in our lives care for us and share in our excitement.

I suppose I thought Bean would be excited to see me, but his first words upon seeing my smiling face were, "Where's my Daddy?" This was followed a short time later by, "Does Daddy know that you picked me up today?" I guess it really has been a while since I picked him up from school...

After Bean's swimming lesson, Angry Driver and I finished packing our three suitcases and three backpacks. I hope we have everything, but at this point, I'm too exhausted to even think of anything we could possibly be forgetting. I hear they have Wal-Mart in China so we will probably be ok in any case.

My uncle arrived yesterday evening via airplane and he plans to be our house sitter for the next two weeks, which I very much appreciate. Do you have any idea what it would cost me to board six cats and a dog for 14 nights? I do and it is not cheap. The cost of his flight to Blahtown was a pittance in comparison.

Hopefully, he will not give the seizure medication to the wrong gray cat. If he forgets to wipe the orange cat's nose periodically, then he won't be able to breathe (The cat, not my uncle. Chronic nasal congestion - don't ask). I've requested that he count the cats at least twice each day since the tortoiseshell cat likes to run into closets and inadvertently imprison herself. I also keep reminding him to feed the hamster and close the cage door (six cats, remember?). I think he's getting sick of the constant reminders, but I have reason to worry: he has asked me three times already to clarify which name belongs to our adopted daughter and which name is the hamster's. Yikes.

Fortunately, he will be checked on frequently by two of the nurses I work with and our next door neighbors. I just have to hope for the best.

After tucking Bean in for the night, I took the opportunity to make one last inspection of Pearl's bedroom. I hope it's perfect for her. Our adoption agency has suggested that we keep decorations and toys to a minimum so as not to overstimulate Pearl, but I have to say that Angry Driver and I failed miserably in this regard. And, no, it isn't just my fault; he's the one who insisted on the lofted bed with the slide, remember?

Here are some photos for your viewing pleasure:

Totally underwhelming, I know.

With all luck, at this time tomorrow we will be soaring high above the clouds and over the international date line to Pearl's homeland. The plan is to meet her and become a family in six short days. The prospect is both exhilarating and terrifying all at once. After all this time, this adoption is finally happening. I've found that I usually have no clue before my life changes dramatically but, in this case, I know that all of our lives are about to change immeasurably. 

Let the adventure begin!

'Twas the night before flying to Beijing...and to all a good night!