It's hard to believe it's been 6 months already. Or is that, it's only been 6 months?! I had great intentions of updating every month or so so people could keep tabs on how we're doing. Obviously that plan went great. I think, to be fair and not miss anything (sorry, that's for my benefit, not yours!), I need to back up. Waaaaay up apparently.Let's see. The first few days home were a blur. A jet lagged, feverish, ear-numbing fit throwing blur. Everyone (with good intentions I'm sure) told me most people get a nice honeymoon period and then the fun stuff starts. Usually that's a couple weeks after you get home. Nope. We dove in the 3rd day we had her in Russia. Her first car ride was less than fantastic. She started throwing a fit and, just like that, we entered stage 2. Apparently stage 2 has a lot of tears and screaming. And that was just me.
For us, stage 2 came with what we're fondly calling Russian malaria. It turns out, when we picked Esther up she was just starting to get sick with, what we suspect now was a type of influenza. She was also getting her 2 year old molars. And these nice Americans come and take her away from the only life she's ever known. Ha. You know how toddlers are a little bi-polar on a GOOD day? You should try them in a I-don't know-you-you-don't-speak-my-language-my-gums-are-bleeding day. She dealt with it by giving me strep. 3rd day in Russia. So sick I can't move strep. The Russian, homeopathic meds we found helped and after a few days, I was at least standing. Enough to move to Moscow. By that time the influenza part had hit Esther so we spent the entire time there with said sick, teething, I-think-I'm-being-kidnapped toddler. Luckily we had brought a few child medications along and were able to find a pharmacy and decode the Russian equivalent of infant tylenol. Those were the good days. We left Moscow at some ridiculously early hour of the morning in the cold, pouring rain. We made it to the airport in good time since there was relatively little traffic (oh my word traffic in Moscow is crazy! You just can not imagine the traffic in a megalopolis). Which was great. Since Esther screamed the entire way. And when I say scream, I mean ear-piercing, head and hands and feet thrashing, good-oldfashioned fit. The whole. way. Except when she feel asleep. Then there was blessed silence. Until she woke back up. Note the exhausted-sick-can't-move-cause-she-finally-fell-asleep look on my face.
We spent 4 hours in the Moscow airport waiting for our flight. That was a great time. (Please read that with the appropriate amount of sarcasm). That lovely fit...the whole. time. You want to see dirty looks? Stand in a line with a toddler who is alternating trying to hit and kick and bite you with screaming bloody murder and dripping with sweat from the adrenal reaction. You have never seen so many people fervently pray they don't end up seated near you! 4 hours. 4. Excruciating. Hours. I think the biggest pet peeve I have now is people who, when I say "fit", nod sympathetically and refer to there own children. I want to shout and hit something. They DO NOT get it. You know the stories you hear about how in moments of pure adrenaline, a mother lifts her car to free her trapped children? That super human strength happens in a child that has had really bad things happen. A lot of really bad things. I can't explain it. And unless you have been there and actually seen that...little Johnny throwing a fit ain't seen nothing. The concept that a toddler can somehow keep that intensity for that amount of time -- literally exhausting the adult trying to keep them from harming themselves or others is beyond incredible. 4 hours. To say I was exhausted by the time we hit the gate is a gross understatement. Turns out we weren't seated by each other. Bryan looked at me and suggested...maybe...I should sit with Luke and he would sit with Esther. Maybe. Honestly, I might not have gotten on the plane with her at that point, so, that was a pretty good plan! She flipped out (more) when he took her (she only wanted me at that point), but once we got separated, she did awesome (well...minus the pooping episodes. All 3 of them. Let's just say she and Bryan went through all their spare clothes...). People around me even had the nerve to talk about the cute little girl who's dad was lifting up her up to play with the air vents. The nerve.
We landed in JFK and went through customs -- apparently the adoption card is the magic card to play to fly through customs. They ushered us through the massive line and we were on our way. Til we hit border control. My brother Jacob had one request. A big Russian furry hat. It took some doing, but we got our hands on a few. One of the items you must declare is fur. We waited and waited. And pulled out one hat. It was looked at and then we waited. And pulled out the other hats. Two of which were mink. Oops. And waited. And a supervisor came and looked. And then we waited. With the jetlagged toddler. And waited. FINALLY (like 45 min later) the man who had decided this whole thing was ridiculous (apparently we don't look like fur smugglers) talked to his supervisor and came and asked us if they were for us or if we were going to sell them (emphasis on FOR US). Bryan said..."Gifts..." at which point he cut him off and said, "So they're FOR YOU." We finally got the message (hey, we were jetlagged...), nodded and were allowed to leave. Welcome to the U.S.
By the time we hit...somewhere..it was that much of a blur. We were beyond exhausted. We literally all passed out the last leg of the flight. I think. I don't really remember anything. We fell into bed in Rapid City and instantly were asleep. Except Luke. Who apparently took the time to take pictures of us sleeping. Creepy find on the camera later...
We headed home the next morning with only a mild fit in the car and arrived home to a sweet welcome home party with a few family and friends. The only thing I really remember (other than the sweet banners and decorations and things the boys had made) was that the electric piano was a definite hit. Looking back, I wish I remember more, but my brain was so incredibly fried at that point that I'm surprised I remember any!
The first month, actually was a blur. That crack about "Russian malaria" (Bryan named it. Holy cow were he and Luke sick!) Not so funny. By the time we got home, Esther was pretty much over her bout of whatever Russian germ she had. The first 3 weeks we were home we all got, I kid you not, everyone of us got sick. Not just sick. I mean SICK. Like strep, influenza, double pink eye sick. EVERYONE of us went to the doctor. Everyone of us was on multiple prescriptions. My strep...not so much gone. It came back in full force. We looked rough. I mean really rough. Like, the first day back to school, Luke was sent home because he "looked terrible...". Looking back, it was kind of a blessing in disguise. If you've been to our house you know with 4 highly active boys things get a little, well, loud and crazy. They also are all in school so "normal" activity in our house rises and falls and they come and go. Instead, for her first month home, we were more subdued, more at home and more quiet than ever before. The boys all stayed home from school (school frown on exposure to Russian malaria...especially with the double pink-eye. That's a great look.). Bryan stayed home from work. And everyone laid around and rested. Except her. She, being more recovered than the rest of us, threw fits, bit Ben, broke anything she touched and found more lost pens in our house than I knew existed. But that's a whole 'nother story. Meanwhile, when you have to catch up on 6 months of memories...it gets a little long. I'll pick it back up another day. And add pictures. I really want to add pictures.
Her first time in the snow...
Having coffee with Uncle Caleb. She loves coffee.
