Gotcha Day

One year ago yesterday, we stood in a Russian court room and pleaded our case to a staunch judge and a young prosecutor with a reputation for not playing nicely with American families. We were not only given custody of J and L but a region that NEVER waived the ten day waiting period, did for us. And so began the journey. We rushed from the courthouse to the hotel with orders to get something to eat and pack while Olga began frantic translations so we could be on the 11pm train for Moscow. I have no idea what favors she had to cash in to get people to stay late and push our paperwork through. We were picked up by a driver and a "friend" of Olga's and drove in the dark to the orphanage. We arrived at dinner time and in less than 30 minutes, had signed a few papers, watched food be shoveled into J and L and seen their clothes changed into the outfits we brought. We realized J had a grid like burn mark over half his back, but protocol dictates we not ask questions. The twins were thrust into our arms and hurried into the waiting car.

Both J and L were terrified at the newness all around them. They had rarely been out of the orphanage, let alone at night or with strangers. We flew down tiny roads with little signage to arrive back at the hotel with orders to wait until Olga arrived for the trip to the train station. We did our best to entertain and comfort the new little people we had prayed for so hard. We wanted them to be happy and for that few minutes at the hotel, seemed pretty content with us. It didn't hurt that we had neat trinkets and a non stop supply of vanilla wafers.

Around 10:30, the car with Olga and our paperwork arrived to take us all to the train station. Children in orphanages are put to bed early- think 7 or so. We were long past bedtime and taking them into yet another strange situation. The snowsuits J and L were wearing were too warm for the evening and slippery against our coats. We were carrying diaper bags and luggage. L didn't trust me and instead of snuggling into me was pushing back as hard as she could, making people stare and the trip up and down in front of the train looking for our car seem like miles. We were all four hot, sweaty and nervous. Finally we reach our car and Olga left us. She was coming on a later train. Russian trains are very similar to those pictured on Little House on the Prairie shows. This night it was hot. The twins are very fussy and exhausted at this point. Brian keeps assuring them "Mama has soft blankets to sleep on." Having no Russian, I could only hope the sing song of his voice was comforting.

The trip to Moscow, as all train trips in Moscow are, was long and bumpy. The twins slept fitfully while we watched their every move. We were beginning to realize we had not brought the items L would need. We arrived in Moscow in the dark, and with no translator, were left on our own to find our driver. Thankfully we had been through this stations many times by now and Brian at least acted confident to steer us through it. We arrived at the Mariott at 5am and were met by the embassey docotor. How thankful we were for Michelle's donated rewards points to stay in a western hotel this time. We stepped into our beautiful room with a bathtub, running water, a soft bed and 2 cribs. We closed the curtains and put all of us to bed for a blissful 6 hours or so.

Moscow is very different from our first trip nine years ago. Brian was able to find Sbarro pizza for supper one evening. J was impressed. We took stuffed dogs for both J and L. J was saying "WOOF" before we got home.

We arrived home on Saturday night. We were exhausted, but delighted to see B and H. H chose to stay at a cheer competition until Sunday, but B cam running out of the house in her pajamas, jumping up and down and grinning from ear to ear. She had ballons tied to chairs and toys all set up. She was an absolute joy to watch.

Sometimes we allow the what-ifs to over take us. What if we hadn't gone? What if we stuck to our plan on age and ability instead of allowing God to decide? What if we had listened to the doubts and fears? But then I wipe the tears and thank God that He spoke louder and Brian listened, and we have the most precious children in the world. They make our life meaningful and our hearts full. Happy Gotcha Day J and L!!

Who is this woman yelling in the stands?

Most of you reading this are well aware that I am not an athlete. Never claimed to be. I also would not call myself a sports fan. Okay, I don't really even have a mild interest in anything sports. At a FH party before we were even dating, Brian asked if I was attending the game tomorrow. "What game ?" I asked. He responded "The UK vs LSU game." I think Brian almost wrote me off at that moment. I am not sure his family has ever gotten over the introduction of a band geek.

I still care nothing for most college or professional sports. I follow UK from a distance, but I don't know players' names or even if UK is playing at any given time. I can't match teams to mascots or tell you where the Super Bowl is to be played. But..... When it comes to my own kids and Michael before them, it is a different story. I have yelled at referees and steamed over calls. I have felt personally effected by the outcome of games. I know details. I know rules. I have learned to catch a ball. I enjoy playing softball in the back yard and hearing the ringing sound as the metal bat in my hands connects with the ball firing from the pitching machine. I have heard the ball bounce off the window and corrected the bat swing instead of worrying about the window being broken. I think my mom thought I had lost my mind when I walked into her hotel room at Becky's wedding and corrected H's back handspring form instead of telling her to stop doing it on the bed. What has happened to me?

The worst has been over H's competitive cheering. Before joining this lunatic group, I did not understand and maybe even spoke badly of some of the things I have said, done and observed. Why would any parent put their child in this extreme world of 3 hour practices and long distance drives to competitions? Who wants the intense pressure of being scored and measured on a 2 1/2 minute routine? For us, the answer is simple. H would rather cheer than breathe. She has also been forced to develop discipline and a work ethic that no other activity has ever asked or required of her. She has learned to work through severe mental blocks. During one stretch, she seemed to lose all tumbling ability and could not manage the most basic flip. As I watched her break down on the floor, I fell apart on the arena concourse. This was not about winning or losing, but the mental strength we all need to push through the voices that are telling us we can't do something. She did it. She broke the vice around her mind and is now working on a back tuck. At an event shortly after Christmas, one of H's teammates over rotated in warm ups and cracked her knee on the floor. She hurt and wanted to cry, but the coach asked her for 5 more minutes. Give me five good minutes and then you can fall apart. She went out on the floor and filled her role as a base for every stunt before falling apart. How many adults still need to learn that even when we think we are at our absolute end, we sometimes just have to suck it up, hold it together and give more than we think we can do for 5 more minutes?

Athletics, (cheer, softball, football etc) is not about winning. No, it is not only fun if you win. It is not about making professional athletes although H says this is what she will do forever. It is not about giving parents or grandparents a way to live vicariously through their children. It is not about any one sport being better than another. It is about learning to stick with something no matter how hard. It is being trustworthy so that the girl you are throwing in to the air knows you will catch her on the way down even if you get hit in the face. It is about taking the hit for your teammate. It's giving more than you think you can and pushing yourself to a better you than anyone thought was possible. It's working for nothing less than victory, but playing by the rules and accepting defeat graciously.

No, I am still not an athlete. I still can't stomach the out of control parents who have caused some little league programs to demand silence at games, or whom think their child is heaven sent. I am however a true youth athletics fan. You can find me on Saturdays making a fool out of myself at cheer competitions, or basketball games or softball fields. I'll be the person with the cowbell in the blue wig. (okay, I haven't gone that far.....yet)

Christmas Morning

B and H were the first two up, but they did wait till there was a little daylight as per their parents request. We held them to stockings until J and L woke up. At the first whimper, B and H rushed upstairs and carried them down in total bewilderment.

I think this is an example of not needing to wear everything you get for Christmas at the same time! Brian would also point out that since I am the photographer and the blogger, no such pictures ever seem to exist of me!

J loves Thomas trains and attempted to build track all the way around the kitchen.

H was more excited about the contents of L's stocking than she was, but she was a very helpful big sister!

Pop Rocks

Let it be noted that Uncle Michael is completely responsible for intoducing J to pop rocks. J downed several bags at Halloween with Uncle Michael's help so when he discovered bags of them at Grandmother's, Uncle Michale was once again the man for the job. In order to not make a mess, he lays J back and pours them into his mouth. This looks very similar to the way they pumped charcoal into H when she took the claratin overdose, but they assure me it is fun for all. That is of course until a few fizzy chips land inside your nose! This is when Aunt Kassie is forced to come to the rescue and help J snort out the bubbling rocks.

Christmas Before and After

L's New Wheels

I couldn't bring myself to consider basic mobility part of Christmas, so this arrived a few days early. L has been very mobile and happy in a baby walker, but all the therapists are in agreement it has to go. It does not teach the correct way to walk and is not really helping her. In addition, she is just outgrowing it. This is a special gait trainer that provides her support, but makes her stand upright and place weight on her feet to move. It also allows the use of both braces. She is still struggling to catch on, but in the mean time, J is pushing her all over the house and bouncing off walls. Luckily, it extends far enough out that it is just the walls in danger and not L's head!