Sunday Photos Sunday was a great day. It started in Grandpa's hammock, and ended with Uncle Gary and Aunt Dian's Halloween block party.

It was Linus in the "Peanuts" comic strip who once said, "Never jump into a pile of leaves with a wet sucker." Of course, this only becomes an issue if the sucker were to actually leave your mouth.
A week later, cousin Emmy still holds Zoe's interest.  ¶ 11:35 PM 0 comments

  The Great Chiquita Intervention Disclaimer: Yes, I'm well aware of the obvious Freudian implications of this post. Rest assured that sometimes a banana is still just a banana.

The "Papa issue" reached a fever pitch on Friday. Zoe was particularly difficult all day, ignoring and refusing food from me as she had done all week (but accepting the same food when Sari handed it to her). She finally went down for a nap at 4 p.m., with nothing in her tummy since lunch.

We're still learning about Zoe's routines, but two things were pretty obvious to us while she napped. First, she would probably wake up around 8 p.m. Secondly, she would be pretty darn hungry. So we waited. And waited.

A little after 8, we heard the stirring coming from her room. Sari got her ready for dinner. And as Zoe started to lead Sari downstairs to the kitchen for dinner, Sari stopped her in our upstairs hallway and sat down with her. And I joined the intervention on the floor. With a banana.
Bananas are Zoe's favorite food, one she has never refused. One ripe Chiquita (flecked with brown, and having a golden hue) has served as her complete breakfast, lunch or dinner at various times over the last week. Tonight, it represented a lot more. If she wanted the banana, it would have to come from my hand. For a few minutes, I simply tried to hand her the fruit, and she refused to take it. Then things began to turn ugly.

The banana became my microphone, and after years of rehearsing for this moment in the privacy of my car, I suddenly had an audience, albeit a captive one. For the next 20 minutes, I serenaded the girls with my all-time Sinatra greatest hits medley, dangling the fruit ever closer under Zoe's nose with each doobie-doobie-doo. By the time I reached the "My Way" finale, I had peeled away the top quarter of the banana to enhance its scent and visual appeal. All in all, the intervention/concert took a half-hour, ending when Zoe finally yanked the banana from my hand like a bobby-soxer at the Paramount going for Frank's cufflinks.

Since the Great Chiquita Intervention, things have improved between Zoe and me. She doesn't refuse food from me as much just on principle. I've caught her smiling at me, but she quickly corrects herself when she realizes I've seen her. When I'm not in the room, she'll speak of me in glowing terms, point me out in photos, and ask about my whereabouts. I've even managed to get in a few pats on her back or head before she starts to cringe.

Things are looking up...  ¶ 9:27 AM 0 comments

  "She Looks Like a Zoe" There was never much debate about a name for our daughter. Sari always wanted a Zoe. About six months ago, the one friend she entrusted to keep the name secret remarked upon looking at her photo, "She looks like a Zoe."
The very same day, I called an out-of-town friend I hadn't heard from for a while to catch up. She told me about their new dog. The Labradoodle's name? "Zoe!" How did they decide on the name? "She looks like a Zoe." Sworn to secrecy, I had to restrain myself from laughing hysterically.

In Judaism, children are traditionally named for cherished deceased relatives ("CDRs"). But this usually only extends to the child's Hebrew name, which rarely comes up except at the child's bris/naming and bar/bat mitzvah. Once you get past the Hebrew name, pretty much anything goes in what you're really going to call your kid. If you don't particularly love the CDR's name or the child's gender is different from the CDR, you borrow the first letter to begin the child's English name. If the first letter doesn't lead to a name you like, maybe you'll use the second consonant from a nickname the CDR once had in a college fraternity. It's an often shameless stretch creating the guilt-paved Jewish documentation trail needed to justify giving your kid the name you really want to use.

The reason for Jewish stretch-naming is that most of our CDR's names wouldn't be all that trendy today. I suspect there aren't many kids running around on the playground named Shlomo, Pessie, Hyman, Leba, Ethel, and Abraham, the names of six of my great-grandparents. The other two--Jacob and Kate--have held up fairly well over the years. But remember that 1) she's a girl, and 2) she looks like a Zoe.

If you're still with me, here's our daughter's formal Hebrew name: Devorah Leah, bat (daughter of) Aharon Chaim (my Hebrew name) v'Sara Leba (Sari's Hebrew name).

Devorah is Sari's Bubbe Doris' Hebrew name. Now for the English stretch-name: Doris' maiden name was Zubin. That's now the Z in Zoe.

The Hebrew middle name, Leah, was my Nana Eleanor's Hebrew name. But here's where it works out nicely:

Zoe was born with the Russian name Elena. Very close to my grandmother's real English name (Lena). Eleanor, Lena and Elena are all variations of the same name (the Greek root Helen). So, in addition to honoring my Nana, it was also nice to keep Zoe's Russian name to honor her own heritage.

Finally, the name Zoe means "life giving" in Greek. Our grandmothers were so full of life and giving of themselves, we can think of no greater honor to bestow on this child who has given new meaning to our lives.

  ¶ 10:33 PM 1 comments

  Basket Cases We never really got all caught up with the laundry after our two-week trip last month. Now, with two kids, it's a never-ending battle to get it all done. The baskets are all over the house.

It's not quite as bad as it looks. For those out there about to call Social Services, Jesse is shirtless by choice.  ¶ 4:08 PM 0 comments

  "Brrrrring, Brrrrring...Ahllloooo?" In our three trips to Russia, we were hard-pressed to find a native who didn't have either a cell phone or cigarette in their hands at any given time. So it came as no surprise that the phone was Zoe's favorite toy in the orphanage. With role models like Jiana, our translator in Yekaterinburg, Zoe came to us well-trained in telephone etiquette.

So we wondered how much of this phone addiction would be retained in her new life in America. Apparently plenty. From the moment she saw us turn on our cell phones after landing, she was hooked. If she gets one in her hand, it's nearly impossible to get it out. It's now a 50/50 shot that you'll find our landline phones in the house are off-the-hook.

She definitely knows the difference between the toy and real phones, so that trick doesn't work. We thought we'd outsmart her and give her one of our old cell phones, but she won't be caught dead with anything but the newer flip-phones we're currently carrying.

Last night, Zoe made her first phone call. She connected with her friend Laira in Chicago. They discussed a number of issues, comparing notes on their first few days in America. In exchange for telephone time, we're allowing her to do chores around the house, such as test-wearing some of Mama's laundry.

As for the phones that are constantly in her hands, we consider ourselves fortunate. Better a Motorola than a Marlboro.

  ¶ 6:05 AM 0 comments

  Food, Glorious Food To blog or not to blog...that is the question when there are no new photos and really nothing major to report. So I'll take a shot and apologize in advance for putting you to sleep.

The day started as it often does in our house, with Jesse entering our room at 4 a.m. Then--as has happened a handful of times before over six years--he proceeded to lose the previous night's dinner in our bed an hour later.

Zoe awoke with the commotion of our scrambling to tend to a moaning Jesse and get the bedlinens into the washer. By 5:45, at her insistence she was bathed and all dressed up for the day...with nowhere to go. No medical appointments. No playdates. Sick brother. Forecasted pouring rain all day. Clearly, today was an inside day.

So I did what any responsible father would do when faced with the opportunity to stay home with one kid vomiting and the other choosing to alternate between crying at him and giving him the silent treatment. I got in the car and headed to work for the first time in a week. But by the time I got to the office, Jesse had two more episodes and was asking for me. So back home I went.

When I opened the door, there was Zoe, by herself at the kitchen table, wolfing down a bowl of dry Froot Loops. She wasn't entirely thrilled with my surprise entrance, and started to cry. Sari came from her office to settle her down, and reported the following:

• I had interrupted her fourth bowl of Froot Loops.
• She had managed to relocate her step-stool from the bathroom in an attempt to reach the stockpile of bananas and rice cakes left recklessly on the kitchen counter.

Finally, the stories we were warned about were coming true. Children fresh from an orphanage have no concept of portion control, and if served something they like, they'll eat as much of it as is made available or is visible to them. Apparently, Froot Loops, bananas, rice cakes, and jelly sandwiches are now on Zoe's short list of acceptable foods.

Adopted Russian children also have been known to horde food and then hide it in places where it presumably won't be taken from them, like under their pillows. My ancestry is 100% Russian, and I can attest to doing the same with Reese's Peanut Butter Cups in my desk drawer. So far, Zoe has seen the Costco-sized supplies of rice cakes and bananas, and I think she realizes there are plenty of them...all for her.

In addition to adding some new favorite foods to her diet, Zoe is exploring, and has discovered desk drawers. And kitchen drawers. And bathroom cabinets. We quickly discovered where we had left all our old childproofing apparatuses.

And so ends another day. G'night.  ¶ 9:20 PM 0 comments

  Life in the 'Burbs Zoe's second full day in America was fairly uneventful. She woke up around 7, insisted on her morning bath, and then followed our directions to wake Jesse up for school. She had breakfast (rice cake and a banana), then we took our first family walk to the school bus.

After dropping Jesse off, the girls headed to the family pediatrician for a first look-over. Everything went well and she had no problem with the (male) doctor, but she'll be returning soon to get blood drawn for the upcoming thorough evaluation by the International Adoption Center. Height: 36" (29th percentile). Weight: 31 pounds (56th percentile). She's solid.

Next stop: the offices of our agency, International Children's Alliance, to drop off paperwork and let the staff ooh and ahh. We sat and talked for an hour. Zoe demonstrated her fine-motor skills for them, using a screwdriver to replace the battery cover on a toy. She warmed up to some of the ladies, shyed away from others. But none got the looks of Wes Craven-inspired terror reserved for Papa. I heard plenty of "war stories" of other families who went through this sort of thing (and it's not always the Papa).

Some more practical advice ICA provided: Drop our feeble attempts at Russian and go straight to English (although I'm reserving the right to use "Nyet!" when immediate danger is at hand). At this age, Zoe's receptive skills are strongest. Through inflections and context, she clearly understands more simple English than we'd expect of an almost three-year-old who's been in the country for 48 hours. And while we thought we'd be calling her "Zoe Lienna" to transition her name for several weeks, she seems to respond to just plain "Zoe." Old habits apparently don't die so hard.

We then headed off for a quick lunch and some shopping. Mama misjudged Zoe's size on our September trip to Russia (or we missed a major growth spurt in the ten days spent back home), and much of her wardrobe is a bit on the small size. The backseat of Mama's car is stuffed with bags of 3T clothes from various retailers, all of which will now require a second trip to exchange for 4T's. I had to use my own cart and leave the girls on their own, since I must have appeared even scarier to Zoe in the claustrophobic confines of the Wal-Mart.

Finally, we went to pick up Jesse and head home for a dinner of...rice cakes and bananas. Followed by her bath. One day doesn't make a routine, but it seems like we've been doing this forever.Jesse agreed to lay down with Zoe on the floor of her room to get her to sleep, which took all but a few seconds.

Life is good.

  ¶ 11:29 PM 0 comments

  The First 24 Hours We didn't know what sort of mood Zoe would be in or how receptive she'd be to being attacked by a horde of well-meaning strangers waiting for us at the airport, so we sort of wanted to keep our reception there low-key. But that didn't stop a handful of family members and a friend who lived nearby from greeting us. Zoe was delighted by the small crowd.

Like the last trip, we shuttled back to our car at Uncle Gary's house and saw baby cousin Emmy.

With Zoe in such a great mood, we decided to join my family for dinner where we'd be picking up Jesse. My sister Marji was coincidentally visiting from Seattle this weekend, so our quick return through Moscow made it possible for her to meet both new nieces.


An exhausted Zoe fell asleep on the way to the restaurant where my family was eating, so we figured we would plant her in the stroller and wheel her into the restaurant sleeping so everyone could ooh and ahh. But true to form, she woke up. Cranky? No way. She met Jesse (whom she knew from photos) and within seconds they were laughing, smiling and playing with each other. When she wasn't playing, she sat at the table with her best orphanage table manners and charmed her grandparents and assorted aunts, uncles & cousins.

We thought that taking her home would bring an end to an incredibly long day, made even longer by the eight-hour time change from Moscow. Once again, she fell asleep in the car, but again rose to the occasion when we brought her into her new home. Following a brief orientation session, she wanted to take a bath. Then it was finally bedtime and she went down fairly easily assisted by Mama, making the transition from orphanage crib to full-sized bed without hesitation.

At 3:30, I took a break from blogging (which knows no schedule) and heard rustling coming from her room. I walked in and the crying started. The call went out for Mama, who settled her down in a few minutes and got to share a few hours of sleep in the new bed.

By 8 a.m., Zoe was up and ready to go. She started looking for clothes into which to dress herself for the day (which in our house is sort of unusual on a Sunday, where we can be in pajamas up until halftime of the first game). She wanted and got another bath in the morning, then completely stripped herself a few hours later to let us know that she wanted a shower (but was turned down). Breakfast--and later lunch--consisted of bananas and...well, more bananas. Jesse got the day off from Sunday school for quality time with his new sister, and a few family members came by to visit. Zoe explored her new home, played and demonstrated her artistic prowess with crayons, which will now require our keeping them safely under lock and key. And more stuffed animals showed up. For hygienic reasons, they don't have have them in the orphanages. So while they're new to Zoe, they don't hold her attention. The bulk of her interest goes to the multitude of electronics available in the house that beep and light up. Cell phones. We've tried the toy cell phones, but she much prefers the real ones.

All was going smoothly until 2:30 in the afternoon. Sari, who has been shadowed by Zoe 24/7 over the last four days, was totally exhausted and decided that they both were ready for a nap. Zoe wasn't quite so ready and decided to finally leave Mama's side to explore the house on her own. Which left me with the plum assignment of watching Zoe one-on-one for the first time. Sari and I agreed that no matter what sounds were heard coming from downstairs, she would stay put. Would this be the quality bonding time needed to address the "Papa issue" we've been experiencing throughout the last month in Russia?

I saw trouble coming as I went downstairs. Zoe stood in the foyer. I sat in one corner to watch her, she backed herself in the opposite corner and sat there, no toys in hand or nearby, refusing to make eye contact. After a few minutes of just looking at her and making gentle conversation, I approached with her favorite cell phone. She refused to take it and started sniffling, then began screaming and crying uncontrollably.

Remembering the agreement with Sari, my only option was to try to comfort her. So in spite of Zoe's defensive maneuvers, I managed to pick her up, hugging her and rubbing her back while she continued to cry and fight for her release. I figured eventually she would cry herself out, but after what seemed like an eternity, it just wasn't happening. I brought her up to Sari (who obviously hadn't started her nap) and announced all bets were off. The crying stopped, and both were asleep by 3 p.m.

And so ended Zoe's first 24 hours in America. Seven hours later, they're both still asleep.

Papa's day will come. Sweet dreams.  ¶ 10:25 PM 0 comments

  Coming to America

After our 3:45 a.m. wake up call, we headed for the airport. We feared we had seen a sneak preview of things to come on the short flight to Moscow, but still held out hope that things would be better on the longer flight segments home...three hours to Frankfurt, then a five hour layover before the eight hour homestretch flight to Washington.

We and the Wolfes made the conscious decision to sit apart from each other for the flight to Frankfurt, as Zoe and Valeria (a.k.a. Laira) had worked each other into a frenzy during the flight to Moscow.

On the Frankfurt leg, Zoe was a champ and entertained herself with sticker books while Laira slept several rows behind us. The only challenge we faced--one which would continue to plague us throughout the day--was the natural weakness in her gastro-intestinal system brought on by the rapid changes in diet, sleep and anxiety, leading to the first of many clothing changes.

In addition to our being step-by-step with the Wolfes throughout our adoption journey, our girls have been inseparable in their two years together in the orphanage, and that continued after their "release" on Thursday. In the airports, Zoe would try to break away from us to be with Laira, even when we were separated in security lines. We had no idea what would happen in Frankfurt when we would have to go our separate ways. With U.S. geography providing an obstacle, how much did Zoe understand that this would be the last time she would see her best friend for a while? We certainly didn't know how to communicate this to her.

The flight to Frankfurt arrived late, leaving the Wolfes rushed for their connection to Chicago and only time for us to say a quick "goodbye, we'll call you later." We were sure there was going to be a major scene with Zoe running past security to be with Laira, but there wasn't. In the chaos, the girls simply waved goodbye to each other and yelled something I couldn't understand due to the airport noise (not to mention that it was in toddler Russian).

We visited the airport McDonald's during the layover and made good use of their playplace. Then we boarded the final leg to Dulles. Zoe was understandably exhausted, and the incredibly helpful Lufthansa flight attendant looked the other way to allow her to sit on Sari's lap during takeoff rather than forcibly holding her down to wear a seat belt.

Zoe was wide awake as we taxied down the runway. Then a miracle happened. As the sound of the jet engines reached a deafening roar to begin takeoff, Zoe's eyes started to close and she was out cold ten seconds later by the time we lifted off. Thanks to some great work by our travel agent, we got the clutch bulkhead seats with about four feet of legroom in front of us. We put it to good use, making a "nest" for Zoe, where she slept for five hours, until some minor turbulence required us to take her off the floor.
But she slept for another hour in her seat and again kept herself entertained for the remainder of the flight.

As we drew closer to Dulles, we brought out Old Glory from the big bag of toys and snacks. At 3:54 p.m., Lufthansa Flight 418 touched down on American soil, and Zoe Elena Tublin formally became an American citizen.  ¶ 11:37 PM 1 comments

  Mission to Moscow This being late Thursday afternoon, we were told we would be out of Moscow absolutely no later than Tuesday, since U.S. Embassy processing only takes place on weekdays and normally takes two working days. If we were very lucky and everything fell into place, we could be finished up before the weekend and on our way back home Saturday. But, as our agency director put it (even before the fiasco which delayed Sari's travel), "The way your luck has been running, I wouldn't count on it."

The way we looked at it, we finally were in a great position--we'd either be home quickly, or we'd spend a long weekend in one of the world's great cities with no obligations other than to have fun with our new daughter.

So off we went to the airport for the flight to Moscow. How would Zoe do on her first plane ride? This one was rough, but it was just a two-hour flight. She cried a lot and wouldn't sit in her seat. Fortunately, the Ural Airlines flight attendants took pity on us and talked with her, walking her around the massive interior of the Brezhnev-era plane.

After arriving at our hotel at about 10:00 that night, we tried to get Zoe to sleep, but she was screaming and crying. Even Mama couldn't comfort her. (I resigned myself to finally watching some good American TV in the other room. It's one of those times when it's not a bad thing that your daughter only wants to deal with her Mama.) Making matters worse, we were told to expect a housecall from an Embassy-affiliated doctor for Zoe's medical exam...tonight!

The doctor, Boris, arrived at 11:30 p.m., a time better suited to a booty call than a routine pediatric medical exam. Zoe was finally calm and close to getting to sleep, so Boris humanely put the exam off until a "decent" hour--6:30 a.m.

In the morning, Boris found Zoe to be in perfect health. He was especially impressed with her speech development--she was talking up a storm for him (in what seemed to be complete sentences), something we really hadn't heard before.

What followed the exam was the expected chaos of running all over the place with our facilitators dealing with paperwork and medical lab tests.

Finally, we caught a break. Zoe's medical lab results made it back to the embassy by their 11:30 deadline allowing us to get our embassy interview (and have Zoe's visa processed) that same afternoon! We and 35 other families were finished by 3 p.m., cleared to take her home...in big metal bird...to America!

While half of me was disappointed that we wouldn't be able to spend substantial time in Moscow, the other half (the one that learned that the nightly rate at the Marriott was something approaching our mortgage payment back home) welcomed the early exit.

But, there was still Saturday. Surely, we'd have time before heading to the airport to do some last-minute souvenir shopping on Arbat Street, set foot in Red Square or maybe even munch on a Big Mac from one of the world's largest McDonald's.

Wrong again. At 7:00 Friday evening, we were told to be in the lobby with our luggage by 4:15 in order to make the 7 a.m. flight out. Sari and Zoe were having a much-needed extended nap at the time, but we needed to eat and pack. So we and the Wolfes had our final Russian restaurant meal...at the American Bar & Grill.

Our total time in Moscow: Under 36 hours, all devoted to adoption business and grabbing whatever sleep we could. We'll save the tourism for the next trip.  ¶ 11:41 PM 0 comments

  Freedom! Sari arrived in Yekaterinburg uneventfully last night and we both got our first night of sleep in a real bed. Birth certificates in hand, we and the Wolfes headed to the orphanage this morning to claim our girls.

Following a tearful ceremony (one which leaves no doubt as to their current religion, if there were ever any doubt), the girls were turned over to us. Zoe was very shy with both of us at first, but knew full-well what was happening. More tears were exchanged with caregivers and other orphanage personnel, and we hopped into the van.

First stop was lunch. We're technically in Asia (by about ten miles), so we thought maybe we'd get some decent Chinese food. Wrong again.

Zoe's first taste of freedom: Egg-drop soup.

The girls came back to the hotel for a nap with the Mamas, but really ended up just playing and trashing the hotel room. The dads finalized passport and travel arrangements for tonight's flight to Moscow.

Zoe is warming up to Papa, albeit by playing mind games with me. I got up at the restaurant for a few minutes, she curiously looked around for me...then made a point to ignore me when I returned. We call that "progress."

Next stop...the two-hour flight to Moscow. No movie on Ural Airlines...time to break out the DVDs...  ¶ 6:09 AM 1 comments

  Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork After arriving in Yekaterinburg at 6 a.m. local time, I was thankful to be taken to our hotel where I could shower and change out of the clothes that have been my outer skin for the past 36 hours. After the obvious changes to our original flight plan, I survived the long but uneventful flights and layover in Frankfurt, albeit without any sleep to speak of. I met up with our traveling partners, the Wolfes, in the airport and we spent most of the ten hours in an airport lounge chair.

Paperwork began at 9 a.m. with a visit to City Hall, where I got a copy of Zoe's new birth certificate and certificate of adoption--today is really her official Adoption Day! As a nice contrast to other recent Yekaterinburg civil servicedom (is that a word?) we've witnessed, the official issuing the certificates was very friendly, wishing me and the Wolfes well with our daughters. Then we began on a mad dash throughout Yekaterinburg doing any number of other paperwork exercises, signing my name about a dozen times at various places around town. Waiting in the back of the van with the Wolfes, catching a few minutes of sleep at a time before being nudged to sign another paper.

All of this concluded just a few minutes ago. We pick up Zoe's passport tomorrow afternoon and are off to Moscow tomorrow night. We'll definitely be there through the weekend, until Tuesday.

And Sari's passport issue? Tuesday was spent in Washington, where (with the assistance of my brother) she managed to get the Russian Consulate to provide a letter allowing her to pass through United's check-in personnel. No sooner did Sari arrive safely in Moscow this afternoon that she was whisked to another airport to fly on to Yekaterinburg to join us here for the rest of the festivities. Just how festive she'll be when she finally arrives at 2 a.m., I'm not sure. Don't count on any photos.

So, I'm taking a pass on visiting the orphanage tonight in favor of some much-needed sleep--not only just to avoid the much-feared solo reunion. And Sari will be in attendance at tomorrow's pickup ceremony.

Sweet dreams...  ¶ 6:13 AM 0 comments

  Flying solo There´s no doubt that Zoe is Sari's little girl. There is nothing she looks forward to more than the sight of her Mama when she enters the playroom at the orphanage.

A year ago, on our first trip, a jealous Papa (notably me) suggested a brilliant experiment. Sari would be hiding in a nearby hallway so that Zoe would only see me, encouraging her to pay me some much-needed attention. Wrong. Zoe screamed and cried until Sari appeared and comforted her.

A similar experiment on our second trip a few weeks back also failed miserably. Things improved, but only to the extent that I was ignored, rather than villified.

This time around, it's not an experiment--it's for real. A previously-undiscovered technicality with Sari's passport found at check-in last night left us with a difficult decision--delay Zoe's pickup for the better part of a week, or send the parent with the good passport--me--to make the pickup.

After the unsuccesful but heroic efforts of the United check-in crew to find a loophole and with departure time closing in, we made the decision. We scrambled to repack luggage and get me on the plane. Sari is working out the passport issue in Washington and will hopefully be able to join us in Moscow on Thursday. A quick kiss goodbye, and off I went.

We used to laugh at some of the stories we heard. The best--a father making the pickup forced to wear a white lab coat the entire trip so the child would think he was a helpful doctor rather than adoptive parent.

All funny at the time, but not quite so amusing when you're flying across the Atlantic to take a child from the only comfort zone she knows--a child expecting her Mama.

I can only think of the Richard Benjamin character at the end of Westworld...sole survivor of the amusement park...head in hands, the Westworld ad plays in his head..."where nothing can go wrong...go wrong...go wrong..."

What awaits in Yekaterinburg? Will Sari make it to Moscow? Stay tuned...

With love from Frankfurt....  ¶ 5:39 AM 0 comments

  Taking Care of Business Back Home Well, we're at the midpoint of our waiting period back home while Zoe (formerly Elena) waits for our return to Yekaterinburg next week. The trip home was predictably long and uneventful, giving us a lot of time to think about the next one, accompanied by an almost three-year-old who has rarely left her comfort zone at the orphanage. Will it be an exciting new adventure to Zoe, or will it be 14 hours of sheer terror at 30,000 feet? Our sources say it could go either way.

Our first stop after arriving at Dulles was to visit our new niece, Emmy, who was born while we were away.


Eventually, we made it home to find Jesse still awake. We missed his sixth birthday during our two weeks away, and I'm willing to bet that he grew a half-inch in our absence. He's been wearing nothing but shorts for the last three months, and none of his pants from the Spring fit. This week's trip to Old Navy to finalize Zoe's wardrobe will include serious updates to Jesse's, as well.

With the addition of Emmy and Zoe, my parents doubled their grandchildren from two to four over the course of a week. Providing childcare services for Jesse for the unplanned extra week cut into their quality time with Emmy, but they, along with the help of a host of friends and family, took on the childcare challenge graciously.

And we're back at work for our very understanding employers...for a week, anyway.

Zoe's room is now serving as our temporary luggage staging area, but finishing touches are also being made, incorporating some of the souvenirs we've picked up over two trips to Russia.

But the matryoshka and porcelain dolls--relics of Zoe's heritage--won't mean nearly as much as what's waiting at her bedroom door...Jesse's artwork from his first day of school, after being assigned to draw a picture of our family.

We're ready. Let's bring her home.  ¶ 3:22 AM 0 comments

  Adoption Day!
At precisely noon today local time, we were granted adoption of Elena Andreevna Podogova (now formally known as Zoe Elena Tublin) by the court in Yekaterinburg, Russia.

As with all Russian court decisions, the adoption award is subject to a ten-day waiting period to take full effect. So we are coming home to the U.S. on October 7, then returning to Yekaterinburg and Moscow on October 17 to truly complete the adoption and bring her home about a week later.

Besides getting re-acquainted with Zoe (rhymes with Joey)'s big brother, I'll be providing more details, photos and back-filling of missing blog entries during our ten-day wait (not to mention catching up with work for my very understanding employer).

For the forseeable future, we'll continue to call her Elena (pronounced "Lienna") during the transition period.

The court hearing itself was all we thought it would be. From her reaction, it seemed the Judge had a bit of a sense of humor. But at times, some of the questioning was downright insulting. Olga, our court translator (pictured with us outside the courthouse), smoothed the way ensuring the questions and answers were easily understood. The court hearing is closed, so the specifics can't be made public.

Still, we somehow believe that the Judge has the best intentions of the children in mind. The documentation obstacle course she has set up over the last year is perhaps her way of finding the best parents for these children--those who can react quickly and calmly after their patience has been stretched beyond the limit, and are truly determined to get their children.

Unfortunately, other potential American adoptive parents have simply walked away out of frustration in the documentation process while waiting for a court date, and their children continue to wait...and wait...and wait.  ¶ 9:21 AM 1 comments

  St.Petersburg...the most beautiful city on earth... Four days in St. Petersburg was just the break we needed to salvage the extra week in Russia. It truly is the most incredible "old" city I've ever visited. (I haven't done the rest of Europe yet, but it will be hard to top this one.) Unlike Yekaterinburg, this one's more geared to English-speaking tourists. And there are a few channels of English television.

We had our own guide and driver to take us to all the palaces. And the food was somewhat better here than in Yekaterinburg. (But the waiter service throughout Russia is terrible.)

By our last day in St. Petersburg, we were somewhat exhausted and bored with touring all the different palaces (the interiors of which each required at least a mile of slow-paced walking among crowds). Frankly, they all started looking alike to us unsophisticated, ugly Americans.
So, with Rosh Hashana looming that evening and in recognition of our missing the holiday back home, we did the next best thing and visited the Edmond J. Safra Synagogue, one of the largest in Europe and certainly the most beautiful I've ever visited.

We don't spend a lot of time in churches, but St. Isaac's Cathedral is also a must-see for its sheer size and ornate decorations.

Our final stop in St. Petersburg was to meet Konstantin Tublin, a successful publisher. We believe Konstantin is a cousin whose family never left the "old country." On practically no notice and without the forthcoming DNA evidence confirming our relationship, Konstantin and his wife Natalia hosted a luncheon for us, the Wolfes and our guide. This truly was the best meal we had in our entire two weeks abroad. Even the leftovers after the meal made for a pretty picture. (Not pictured: Salmon with a creamy caviar sauce. We ate it all.)


So we're back to Yekaterinburg for Wednesday's court date...we think...

(Post-script...DNA results received October 19 indicate Konstantin is definitely a cousin!)  ¶ 11:32 PM 0 comments