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.
Wednesday, December 24, 2014
Tuesday, December 23, 2014
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!
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!
Sunday, December 21, 2014
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!
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.
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.
Friday, December 19, 2014
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.
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.
Wednesday, December 17, 2014
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'...
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'...
Tuesday, December 16, 2014
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.
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.
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