To Russia (And Back) With Love

Kindergarten, Here I Come!

2008-08-26T21:57:00.001-04:00

Two Years Later...

2008-07-04T10:15:00.000-04:00

Every few months, I'll get a message from a random Internetizen asking something like, "Why don't you update your blog?" "Is everything okay?"

Sure, I promised nearly two years ago that there would be more to come. Then I thought about it some more.

This is a blog about our Russian adoption adventure. In the eight months between the time we brought Zoe home and I stopped actively blogging on a regular basis, I realized that more often than not, the blog was reaching for anything to do with Russian adoption. No longer was there a legitimate Russian-specific angle. No longer was there an adoption-specific angle. And I wondered why.

And it came to me. In eight months, our daughter was no longer an adopted Russian child. She was a typical, assimilated American three-year-old, fully bonded with her immediate and extended family. With typical American three-year-old attitude.

Now she's a typical, American five-year-old headed to kindergarten in two short months. With dozens of five-year-old girlfriends filling her calendar with playdates and birthday parties. Ballet, gymnastics, soccer and swimming classes behind her. A trail of broken-hearted boyfriends left behind in pre-school and summer camp. High School Musical 1&2 posters adorning the back of her bedroom door, and parents wishing to drive an icepick through their own skulls as they cater to her demands of repeated listening of the HSM soundtracks in the car.

On America's 232nd birthday, our birthday wish for you is that your dreams come true, just as ours have.

The Endless Summer

2006-09-06T13:54:00.000-04:00

Yes, we're still here. I'll be backfilling the last two months over the next week or so. Promise.

Thanks for bearing with me. And call off the dogs, will you?!

S dniom razhdjenia, America!

2006-07-06T05:54:00.000-04:00

God Bless America (with the apparent exception of Alaska and Hawaii) on Zoe's first Independence Day!

July 4th was marked with the usual food, fun, fireworks, the flag--and a fifth "F," a new friend--another little girl, almost three years old. Born in America, of Russian descent and bilingual. With a natural preference (along with her mother) for speaking Russian.

The Russian language isn't formally taught to children in the orphanages. Upon evaluation by an international adoption professional here shortly after arrival, we learned Zoe's Russian language skills were typical of a three-year-old Russian orphan--that is to say, well below her non-institutionalized three-year-old Russian peers. The Russian she knew was little more than a few basic phrases essential to her care, feeding and playtime in the orphanage.

From the moment the plane took off from Moscow, Zoe jettisoned her Russian vocabulary in favor of English, which she has picked up at a rapid pace. Over the last eight months, we've experimented with feeling out her Russian whenever we happened to find ourselves in the company of someone who speaks the language. Her reactions upon hearing the language seemed to range from fear and contempt in her first days home to confusion and shyness.

On a recent trip to the beach, we enlisted the aid of a few of the summer workers (largely Russian and Eastern European college students) we met at the shops and restaurants to see how she would react. Zoe's reaction was one of shyness, but she seemed to understand what they were saying, even though she didn't respond.

Getting back to July 4th...Zoe and her new friend Sasha hit it off right away and spent the entire time giggling, playing and chasing after each other, which wasn't surprising. But what was surprising was how they were communicating with each other...in Russian.

While the words and phrases coming from Zoe's mouth while playing with Sasha didn't exactly flow like a Dostoyevsky novel, they were familiar from our days in Russia. "Da" (yes), "nyet" (no), "spaseeba" (thank you), "eye-eye-eye!" (don't do that!), "kreseeba" (pretty) to name a few.

We enlisted Sasha's mother, with whom Zoe had also grown comfortable over several hours, to do a more thorough evaluation. Zoe clearly understood the complex things she was saying. Her responses in Russian were short, but appropriate.

Many adoptive parents seek out formal language classes in an effort to maintain their childrens' heritage. We realize the importance of maintaining heritage, but plan to do so emphasizing the Russian culture rather than the language.

Zoe is a huge Dora the Explorer fan, even picking up a few bits of Spanish from the show and accompanying storybooks. Given where America is heading in the not-so-distant future, I'm thinking Spanish will be a lot more practical and am tempted to give that a shot.

But for next few years, English is priority one for Zoe.

Further complicating the language issue in our family is Zoe's cousin, of Hispanic descent, who begins tenth-grade foreign language class this fall. Her language of choice? Russian.

Yo quiero borscht!

Я хочу Taco Bell!

God Bless America.

A Sticky Situation

2006-06-28T06:42:00.000-04:00

So you're three years old, you've had your dinner followed by your bath, and you've brushed your teeth. Sounds like the perfect pre-bedtime ritual to me.

I made the mistake of promising Zoe dessert if she ate all her dinner. After leaving the table following completion of her entree for the aforementioned bath and toothbrushing under Mama's supervision, little did I suspect she would return to the kitchen--white t-shirt, wet hair and all--demanding I hold to my dessert promise. And, catching me preparing a highly-radioactive microwave s'more for Jesse, guess what she wanted for herself?

Years of formal legal training extracted from watching Judge Judy told me that Zoe's leaving the table constituted a breach of the dessert contract and I would ultimately prevail in court after a protracted, ugly, expensive legal battle...but how could I say no? Not when one of my favorite musicals is Oliver! and a former orphan is looking me square in the eye to ask, "Please Papa, I want s'more."

Next month, Zoe returns to the pediatric dentist for a checkup. Surprisingly, the dentist found her teeth to be in in remarkably good shape compared to what we were expecting to hear on her first visit shortly after bringing her home.

Six months later on a highly sugar-laden diet? Hmmmmm....

Going For The Gold

2006-06-10T22:34:00.000-04:00

Just in case the WNBA doesn't come-a-callin', there's always the balance beam and parallel bars. In a moving ceremony following the completion of another session of gymnastics, Zoe received another medal for the family trophy case while standing against a backdrop of an officially-licensed U.S. Olympic Committee beach towel. (Okay, so technically all the kids got medals...but Zoe really was the best.)

But as good as she is, she's no Vera Sessina, another native Yekaterinburger and rhythmic gymnastics champ.

Well, not yet anyway.

Hoop Dreams

2006-06-08T06:09:00.001-04:00

What could make a Papa prouder than to find out his child is a star athlete in training? The thought that she might one day discover a cure for cancer or bring world peace suddenly goes out the window when she picks up a basketball and displays a natural talent for the game.

I've harbored a lot of resentment towards Russians and basketball, going back to the 1972 Olympics, when the gold medal dreams of a nine-year-old American boy were shattered by the most blatantly biased refereeing ever witnessed on the hardwood.

Paybacks are hell. You'll get yours in 2024.

Reading...well, sort of...

2006-06-04T22:13:00.000-04:00

Reading is now part of Zoe's bedtime ritual. At her insistence, Mama reads to her every night, sometimes two or three books. Jesse and I are also allowed to read to her on occasion. And now, she also reads to herself.
No, the words aren't really leaping out at her yet at age 3-1/2, but the letters are mastered and she has been exposed to the stories enough times that she will talk through a fairly close synopsis of each page.

A Memorable Memorial Day Weekend

2006-05-29T23:28:00.000-04:00

The nice thing about blogging is I can be incredibly lazy for a few weeks, then date a post I should have done weeks earlier with a timestamp of, say, May 29 at 11:28 p.m. so that it looks like I've been doing my job. Those who stumble onto the blog in the future are impressed that I'm always so timely, while regular readers are left scratching their heads wondering "Now how the hell did I miss that for two weeks?" Let's not forget to clear your cache every now and then, folks!

That having been said, we just wrapped up a great Memorial Day weekend!

Zoe got a major taste of family all weekend as all branches of Papa's Scherlis clan descended upon Baltimore for the first Family Reunion of the new millenium. Zoe met cousins from all parts of the country as we honored our ancestors who came from Russia to begin a new life new life in America over 100 years ago. So in addition to charming the crowd of 60, her presence was especially meaningful.

The weekend continued with a barbecue at Cousin Sharon's. In addition to meeting more new cousins (this time from Mom's family), Zoe--somewhat exhausted by 48 hours of Scherlis shenanigans, was content to just kick back and kibitz with Pop-Pop.

Zoe and Jesse took time out to enjoy the spacious grounds of Chateau Rabinoroll, the San Simeon of Reisterstown.

The "art shot"

For Aunt Har and Cousin Sharon, who've never made the blog.

Where you been?

2006-05-21T23:01:00.000-04:00

No, I haven't forgotten about the loyal legion of fans out there. We've just been mired down in the typical routine with the kids around here. Preschool all week, gymnastics and birthday parties on the weekends. And chicken pox.

Last weekend, Jesse had a few spots on his upper body. I thought to myself...couldn't be. Dr. Mom, of course, had the gut instinct that we were looking at chicken pox. Wait a minute, not possible...he had the varicella vaccine years ago. At the doctor's the next morning, we learned that the vaccine isn't fullproof (85% success rate) and we were looking at a mild, but very real case of chicken pox. So we scrambled to arrange coverage for Jesse all week since school wasn't an option. So where did this put Zoe? As longtime readers may remember, Zoe had the real deal when we first met her, almost jeopardizing that first trip to Russia. So she wasn't about to catch them again. I had them when I was about Jesse's age. And Sari had the varicella vaccine, which seemed to hold up to do its job for one of us anyway.

What does all this have to do with anything? Not much, but it's the only lame excuse I have for a lack of vigilence to blogging detail.
So we've been somewhat homebound without many photo ops of late. But we finally got out today to celebrate cousin Lila's birthday at a brunch thrown by Grandma & Grandpa. Pancakes are now near the top of Zoe's dietary staples--she craves them for breakfast, lunch & dinner and is eating a lot of them. I suspect it's not so much the pancakes as it is the syrup, just the latest in a long line of sweets that have fallen into favor. We'd probably get the same enthusiasm if we offered corrugated cardboard topped with a little Log Cabin.

Uncle Gary taught Zoe some of the finer points of the game of cribbage. And she put them to good use by hammering the birthday girl.

Rest assured, we're still out here working for you. Look for more bloggable material in the days to come.

Lazy Weekend

2006-05-08T06:09:00.000-04:00

With nothing on our typically busy weekend schedule Saturday afternoon, we took an impromptu ride to the mountains and hiked the Appalachian Trail. Not the full 2,174 miles, but a fairly exhausting 1/4 mile portion of it in Washington Monument State Park.

This was not the only monumental occurrence to come out of our Saturday in rural Maryland. Zoe spied a little girl holding a new puppy outside the entrance of a store in which we were shopping. She led me to the dog, but kept her distance. "Sweet Pea" was adorable, but not to the point that Zoe would allow herself to pet her, but she was clearly tempted and got within two feet. Instead, Zoe grabbed onto my arm and maneuvered it, like a robotic device, to pet Sweet Pea on her behalf.

The moment lost some of its charm when Sweet Pea's heavily-tattooed, Red Man cap-wearing owner arrived and tried to encourage Zoe to pet her. "She might nip at you a little, but it's okay...she's just teething." Zoe, of course, refused. As much as I love dogs, family allergies and irresponsibility have always been obstacles to ownership and, as a consequence, I don't know a whole lot about them.

"What kind of breed is this? I don't recognize it," I asked, continuing to stroke Sweet Pea in an effort to encourage Zoe to follow.

"Oh, she's a mix. Half beagle and half pitbull."

As little as I know about dogs, the thought of Sweet Pea's pitbull half locking her jaws onto one of us brought a quick end to this canine Kodak moment.

Yesterday turned into just another lazy Sunday.

Uncle Gary, Aunt Dian and cousin Emmy came early to take some of our old unisex baby clothes and other assorted baby stuff off our hands. Next weekend is our annual community yard sale; the remainder of the "under 3" stuff up in our attic will be finding new homes at that time, as well.

A visit from Bubbe, Pop-Pop (dubbed "Poppy" to easily distinguish his name from "Papa") and other relatives for a dinner barbecue highlighted the day.

Zoe charmed and performed for the audience. This time she did Twinkle, Twinkle and totally nailed it. The inevitable comparisons to Peggy Lee, Celine Dion and Mrs. Miller were made. Matches were lit as the crowd demanded an encore, but the tempermental star simply walked offstage, in need of chocolate milk and a potty break.

Russo-American Idol!

2006-04-24T21:01:00.000-04:00

You've seen the pics...now, thanks to the wonders of YouTube, almost live, here's Zoe's multimedia debut!

As you can see, a YouTubed video loses a little in the translation--mostly the sound getting out of synch with the video. But it "don't cost nothin'," so I'll be retrofitting the rest of the blog with video clips of Zoe's journey so far.

Reunited (And It Feels So Good)

2006-04-24T12:17:00.000-04:00

We were dressed to the nines for Zoe's second synagogue appearance in three weeks. Six months to the day after arriving in the U.S., Zoe was given her formal Hebrew name in a synagogue naming ceremony this past Saturday before a few close friends and relatives. In an emotional ceremony attended by a few close friends and relatives, Zoe was formally welcomed into the Jewish faith.

Adding to the tears of joy was the return of Zoe's friend Laira, who we last saw in the Frankfurt airport on her way home to suburban Chicago in October. Laira and Zoe were inseparable, just as the anxious parents were during our three trips to Russia together.

What would they remember of each other? From their first few moments together in the synagogue foyer following the ceremony, it didn't seem like much; they expressed little interest when we brought them together. Then Laira simply took off like a rocket, running through the halls of the synagogue. And Zoe took off after her. For the next hour, they continued to chase each other, held hands and hugged before moving on to the celebratory luncheon.
Also in attendance was Marilyn, another of the girls' orphanagemates introduced to this blog last month. Trying to get a great pose out of just one excited three-year-old girl is a daunting task. Multiply that by three, and...believe it or not, this is the best of several shots.
The Wolfes' visit moved to our house and, aided by big brother Jesse and Laira's big sister Stephanie, quickly evolved into the mother of all playdates. Toys we hadn't seen in years came out of hiding, finding their rightful place on the floor wherever four young children decided they belonged. Today, it just didn't matter. When all was said and done, the long-anticipated reunion lasted eleven hours.
And just when we thought the emotions couldn't run any higher, we got a call from Debbie, our agency director, who happened to be in the neighborhood. Debbie took time out from an otherwise busy week for her family to visit, ignoring numerous cellphone calls from the national media in favor of quality time with our girls.

"This is what I'm working for."

A labor of love. Nice work, if you can get it.

Down-de Ooshun, Hon!

2006-04-17T05:43:00.000-04:00

The promise of nice weather and a last-minute vacancy provided the perfect opportunity for a long weekend getaway, and Zoe's first visit to the family compound in Ocean City, or "down-de ooshun" if you've been practicing your Bawlmerese. From her first steps following Jesse onto the sand, she was hooked. Another beach baby!Zoe insisted on having her breakfast served al fresco every morning. Even the presence of numerous dogs out for an early-morning beach walk didn't seem to phase her...not when you're having chocolate milk and oatmeal in paradise.

The combination of Passover and Zoe's limited diet proved to be a challenge. Bread and oatmeal are two of the staples of her diet; would she enjoy matzah (if we presented it to her as a gigantic cracker, one of her other staples)? She rejected it earlier in the week at her first seder, refusing to even take a bite.

Out of respect for the holiday, we brought two boxes of matzah along for the weekend. This time Zoe actually took a bite before concluding "I don't like that." We tried feeding it to the seagulls, but they wouldn't get near it, either. I myself had two bites and thought to myself "Hey, this brand is really good," without realizing that I was actually eating the cardboard box.

We think that even He would understand our need to also have bread available during Passover to accomodate Zoe. A Fractured Prune donut, however, might be a different matter entirely.

The weather on the beach was warmer than we anticipated when we packed, so Saturday found us at the Wal-Mart buying Zoe her first bathing suit. She took instantly to the beach, running on the sand and helping to bury Jesse's legs. Mama taught her how to wash the sand off her hands using the tail end of an incoming wave; she lost her balance in the process of leaning over and took a tumble into the chilly Atlantic surf. But even after this minor slip and the repetitive dunking at the mikvah a few weeks ago, she still seems to love the concept of getting in the water to bathe or swim.

Zoe and Jesse had a blast and kept each other laughing all weekend. They are really starting to click and enjoying each other's company, constantly asking where the other is when they're apart, looking out for (and squealing on) one another.

Zoe's at an age where we can take her to an arcade and she'll jump onto the various machines to watch the demo, thinking she's actually playing them. Jesse caught on to this ploy about two years ago, so in exchange for his silence in not telling his sister that she really wasn't operating the machines, he was rewarded with $10 in quarters.

We probably won't be back to "The (Real) O.C." until later this summer, but three days was just the break we needed for now. And now we're back to the daily grind...

Let's Get This Party Started

2006-04-10T06:18:00.000-04:00

This weekend marked Zoe's first major family event--the combined celebrations of Uncle Bobby's big birthday and cousin Jamie's bat mitzvah.

On consecutive nights, she partied late into the evening. Even a poorly-timed flat tire couldn't stop Zoe's debut on the bimah in synagogue. A recap of photos from the weekend reveal her being held by no fewer than ten different friends and relatives. Here Bubbe Esther shares a hit with Mama.

While the DJ didn't have Zoe's classic medley of "Twinkle, Twinkle/The Alphabet Song/Baa Baa Black Sheep" available, Zoe took to the dance floor a few times. Here she is busting a move to "Shout!" with Mama. Now wai-ai-ai-ait a minute!

Tuesday In The Park

2006-04-04T20:04:00.000-04:00

Just Checking In...

2006-04-02T22:48:00.000-04:00

Blogging comes with its own set of challenges. Sometimes you've got a story, but your camera's nowhere in sight with which to document it. Occasionally you've got pictures, but no real story. And, if the regular visitors to this blog don't see some sort of update, they worry that something is wrong, or that I've gotten lazy or complacent.

Nothing incredibly monumental has happened since my last posting. In anticipation of a heavy spring social calendar beginning with an adoption welcoming party for a fellow Yekaterinburger (I'm not sure if this is the right term, but in case you're planning on opening a Russian fast-food restaurant, I've got dibs on the name), Zoe made her first visit to Mom's hair maven, Deedee, and got a complimentary once-over. Tomorrow morning, we get evaluated by the county for speech services.

We're in major spring cleaning mode. And nearly six months after returning home, we're still playing catch-up with any number of tasks on our to-do lists.

On my list: digitize the hardcopy package of photos of Zoe we received from the orphanage, documenting her stay there. Zoe arrived at Yekaterinburg Baby Home #2 in February 2004, after having spent her first 15 months in the hospital. Healthy as a horse, but there isn't always room at the orphanages and there was nowhere else for her to go.

I finally completed the massive scanning chore and there's now one item crossed off my list. And with that, here's the earliest photo we'll likely ever have. From March 2004: 16 months old, and six months before meeting. Zoe's baby picture.

Welcoming Zoe To The Tribe

2006-03-23T15:02:00.000-05:00

Our princess awoke this morning Orthodox (Russian). Tonight, she goes to sleep Conservative (Jewish).

This afternoon marked her religious conversion to Judaism through the process known as "tevillah," performed by Sari immersing her three times in the mikvah with accompanying prayers. Depending on your frame of reference, the mikvah is either a very small swimming pool or a very large bathtub--a "Jewcuzzi," if you will.* The ceremony was supervised by the bet din (a triumverate of clergy).

We had various discussions with our synagogue's rabbis about the process. The first question posed to us was which of us would do the dunking? We decided that it would probably be best if Sari did the honors. We based that decision largely because at the time (long before this week's PLG Day), we didn't think the plausible perception of attempting to drown Zoe would have particularly helped endear her to me.

The rabbi was, of course, delighted to perform the ceremony, but I think he wanted to save us all the trouble and asked if we were certain Zoe wasn't already Jewish (i.e. had a Jewish birthmother). We frankly don't know, but with the overall Jewish population of Russia at perhaps 1/10th of one percent, we felt this probably didn't warrant additional investigation.

Then there's the issue of nudity. Zoe would have to be au naturel, while Sari had the option of a bathing suit. Would Zoe be comfortable with everyone (clergy, brother, parents, grandparents, an aunt and uncle) watching? When you consider that running around the house naked fresh out of the tub seems to be one of her favorite pastimes, we weren't overly concerned. Sari, on the other hand, is a little more modest and opted for a one-piece.

Zoe had no clue as to what was about to happen and became visibly more upset with each dunk. There are very specific rules--she couldn't be held against Sari while dipped and we couldn't cover up her mouth and nose. And, as great as our communication is with each other, we couldn't convey to her that holding her breath wouldn't be a bad idea. So Sari's only strategy was to dip as quickly as possible. Zoe cried for about a minute when all was said and done, concluding "I don't like that bathtub."

The celebration moved from the mikvah to another institution for the area's Jewish community, with a family luncheon at the Parkway Deli. Faced with traditional choices such as matzo ball soup, corned beef and knishes, Zoe of course opted for her own traditional fare of applesauce, mac & cheese and chocolate milk.

Zoe's Russian Orthodox past is now forever part of our family's history; the inexpensive crucifix she received upon leaving the orphanage one of our most treasured pieces of jewelry. The blessings she received from a priest in Yekaterinburg have served us all well over the last five months.

Dos vidanya. And shalom.

*For my friend Michael Levy, an occasional contributor to neologism competitions worldwide: take that!

PLG Day!

2006-03-21T17:07:00.000-05:00

I am pleased to designate March 20, 2006 as the much-anticipated PLG Day promised to me since we met Zoe 18 months ago: the day Zoe officially became "Papa's Little Girl."

I entered Zoe's classroom at daycare for the pickup. Mama usually gets pickup duty and my appearance at daycare perhaps once a week has been greeted by tears and fears, running into the teachers' arms, refusing to hold my hand for the walk to the parking lot. This requires the assistance of a teacher, playing temporary havoc with their ratios.

On PLG Day, Zoe saw me at the classroom door, got up from her arts & crafts project, and ran into my arms. She put her coat on and reached for my hand and led me first to Jesse's classroom to get him, then to the parking lot.

Mama is home, but bogged down with strep and a fever, begs for privacy to keep the infection from spreading. I try to pay some bills and get in some computer time, but Zoe is all over me like a cheap suit, climbing into my chair with me, pleading to look at family photos on the computer.

I give her dinner; she smiles and thanks me as each item is delivered to the table. Then she and Mama have a much-needed hot shower, immediately afterwhich--hair still soaking wet--she asks me for a bath.

Then it's time for her favorite bedtime ritual--being picked up by the armpits and made to fly horizontally in the air while I'm supporting her from the floor. A vertical puff of breath sends her hair in all directions. I get a tickle in and bring her down to earth as she laughs hysterically. And, in bringing her down to earth, she gets a little peck on the cheek.

This has been going on for perhaps a few months. But on PLG Day, Zoe answered back with a peck on Papa's cheek. Not blowing a kiss after much prodding, but the real deal. Then a kiss for Mama (now sufficiently loaded with antibiotics).

This morning was fairly typical (and I'm still considering it part of PLG Day, which is a 24-hour period regardless of what the calendar says), finding Zoe in our bed in the early hours after having wandered into our room for her last few hours of sleep. I'm running late for work, but Zoe awakens and stops me cold in my tracks by dictating her breakfast order from the comfort of our bed. "Papa! Chocolate milk...hot cereal!" Work can wait--how can I say no to that?

Zoe finds her way to the kitchen, parks herself in her chair and wants to watch "artoons." I mix the chocolate milk and make her lunch while the oatmeal cooks, then park breakfast in front of her as I put my coat on.

"Papa work?" Yes, I explain, but I'll see her later. And as I've done every morning for the last few months, I planted one on her cheek on the way out the door, expecting nothing in response.

But on PLG Day, I stopped for a moment and turned my cheek. And got one back in return.

"Bye-bye, Papa!"

A car? Body piercing? Tattoo? Cell phone? A $200 pair of jeans? On PLG Day, they're all yours for the asking.

Seltzer?! U-Bet!

2006-03-15T17:33:00.000-05:00

It's the little things in life that can make a difference. And one of those things making a difference in our daily lives is a simple can of seltzer.
While many suburban couples are mixing equal parts of gin and vermouth, our version of the after-work martini is the egg cream, a concoction consisting of seltzer (carbonated water), Fox's U-Bet chocolate syrup, and milk. A twelve-ounce can of seltzer is sufficient for two egg creams, with about two ounces to spare.

Zoe has no interest in trying an egg cream, which is sort of surprising seeing as two of the three ingredients form chocolate milk, which she demands at every meal. But she nonetheless takes great interest in watching me mix them, laughing as the foamy white head rushes to the top of the glass while I plead with it to stop before it overflows. And she takes even more interest in the remaining seltzer.

She pleads for the leftovers, but this is one of the tougher words to pronounce. "Setzer, Papa!" The magical property of seltzer--its ability to induce a nice, healthy burp--is intriguing to her. She takes a swig, and before she can put the can down, lets loose with a barrage that would put the late Foster Brooks to shame. "'Scuse me!" We both laugh hysterically.

On an occasional egg creamless night, Zoe will request seltzer at bedtime. And there's no way I can refuse, seeing as 1) it's just water, 2) she's wearing a pullup, and 3) it makes for an incredible bonding experience as we take turns sipping, belching and hugging.

I somehow knew life with Zoe would be a gas. Little did I know that gas would turn out to be carbon dioxide.

Papa's Postscript: Less than 48 hours after posting, Zoe had her first egg cream, proclaiming "I like that!"

A Change Of Venue; A Change Of Seasons

2006-03-11T14:04:00.000-05:00

Yekaterinburg, Russia, September 2005

Six months ago, they were Elena and Zita...just two of hundreds of thousands of Russian orphans, frolicking in the leaves outside their orphanage half a world away.

Little did we know last fall while shooting photos of our future daughter along with her orphanagemates that these two would be re-united halfway across the world on a picture-perfect faux-Spring day for a playdate. Today, Elena and Zita are Zoe (right) and Marilyn (left), both comfortably situated in their American homes. Marilyn arrived home in February with her Mama and is doing great.

Zoe was the hostess with the mostest, even sharing some of her toys with Marilyn. The weather gave Zoe her first real opportunity to explore the backyard of the house, a place we've managed to keep secret from her since October.

There's no denying there's a resemblance between the girls, who are three months apart in age, leading us to half-jokingly speculate that they could be distant cousins. In fact, our neighbor experienced the Patty Duke Show effect when she saw Marilyn in our driveway. Part of it may be that they clearly share the same Yekaterinburg hair stylist.

So, you can lose your mind (when Russians are two of a kind), but looks are where the similarities end. A lot of the assumptions we made about some of Zoe's quirks and fears being rooted in orphanage life were disproven by Marilyn. Marilyn doesn't have a problem with dogs--Zoe is still terrified. Marilyn eats everything her Mama eats--Zoe is still largely on her limited diet. Finally, Marilyn doesn't seem to have the same issue Zoe has with men, as I was able to get a big thank-you hug at the end of this, our first playdate together. Zoe is just about at this comfort level with me after five months home, and only then because I'm her Papa.

Look for more Yekaterinburg reunions in the weeks and months to come.

It Ain't Over 'Til It's Over

2006-03-06T14:38:00.000-05:00

Zoe is home. Zoe is ours. But the paperwork continues.

Two major assignments we'll be working on over the next few months:

The first is Zoe's post-placement progress report, the first of which we're required to provide to the region within six months of her adoption. I assured the judge in Yekaterinburg that it would be with great pride that I would submit these to the ministry. And I meant it, although I'm in denial that time is flying by as quickly as it has.

With no real consequences to the adoptive parents once their children are safely on U.S. soil, some aren't taking this responsibility so seriously. Unfortunately, their agencies are getting "dinged" for their apathy and denied accreditation because of these unfiled reports. Which means those prospective parents currently in the process using these agencies are forced to wait...and wait....and wait.

The second assignment is the process of readoption, a formal legal "slam dunk" ensuring that Zoe has the same rights as if she were adopted in the U.S.

Rest assured, nobody is going to take Zoe away, and she is a U.S. citizen...not to mention a dependent on our 2005 tax return.

Mr. Mom

2006-03-06T13:39:00.000-05:00

With Sari away for a weekend of frozen beach fun with her group of mommy girlfriends, I had the chance to play Mr. Mom. Separation was difficult, but Zoe soon got the hang of it Saturday morning as I took her to gymnastics class, jumping along beside her. She reveled at the miracle of watching Krispy Kreme donuts being manufactured right before our very eyes, taking a single lick off of three different varieties. She cooperated all weekend, held my hand in parking lots and allowed me to help her into her carseat. And, with no female alternatives available from the group of deserted husbands who went out to dinner with their kids Saturday night, she even requested that I hold her, as captured by the miracle known as the low-resolution camera phone.

Frequent phone calls to/from Sari were requested; each promising a special present for being a good listener upon her return Sunday. Zoe could speak of nothing else but the present all weekend, seeking affirmation that she was, in fact, a good listener. Nothing, that is, except for repeated on-demand listenings of the songs "Bananaphone" and "5 Little Monkeys" in the car. My understanding is that the CIA was using these tactics in Abu Ghraib to extract confessions until the prisoners began begging for bamboo shoots under the fingernails instead.

Zoe's persistence proved to be a blessing as well over the weekend. Whereas Zoe will get herself dressed without prompting or oversight, Jesse is now discovering the joys of sleeping in and isn't always entirely cooperative in the mornings. So, faced with the task of getting him ready for Sunday school, I simply deputized Zoe to wake him and ensure he got dressed.

Zoe locked onto the assignment like a pitbull onto a mailman's left calf, and within five minutes Jesse emerged yawning, but attired. Zoe is sincere when she says "I want to help" when she witnesses us doing mundane chores like setting the table or loading and emptying the dishwasher, all of which involves handling glassware and cutlery with which we're not entirely comfortable. So we've finally found the perfect assignment to keep both of them in check--sic her on Jesse. In short--she don't take no cah-keys from her big brother and is beginning to express herself when she feels an instance of juvenile injustice has been committed.

Mommy finally arrived home Sunday evening with Zoe's present: a "Daddy's Little Girl" cap. Immediately, Zoe was anything but Daddy's Little Girl, but wore the cap out of ignorance. I couldn't hold her hand or put her in her car seat once Mommy was around. But for 36 magical hours, she was--by default--all mine.

"Jesse Did It!"

2006-02-23T07:12:00.000-05:00

Zoe has been exploring her artistic freedom over the last few weeks, using (mostly) washable writing implements throughout the house on any number of media: important papers, furniture and walls. We've addressed these incidents with her as they've occurred much as we did with Jesse at that age and realize it's a phase. You deal with it, hope they understand and move on to a more appropriate medium.

So I was naturally upset, but not totally shocked to walk into our bedroom to find a green magic-markered zig-zag pattern on my nightstand the other night, while Zoe and Jesse were sprawled out on our bed watching television.

"Zoe, did you draw on the furniture?!"
"No," (momentary pause to think, then pointing an accusatory finger) "...Jesse did it!" While shocked at witnessing the first bald-faced lie to pass through her lips and the subsequent attempt to pin the rap on her brother, I was impressed with 1) the perfect English, and 2) the spontaneity with which the charge was redirected.

Stories like this make me realize that this blog is no longer about an adopted Russian orphan; it's now about a typical American three-year-old (albeit one with a really cool accent). How long this sort of thing remains bloggable, I'm not sure, but I'll keep plugging away for the time being.

Seaside Holiday

2006-02-21T09:23:00.000-05:00

The Miss America pageant may have left Atlantic City, but America's Playground is still a draw for us. Zoe joined Jesse for a long weekend in becoming the fifth generation of our families to enjoy the Jersey shore.

A.C.'s answer to the brilliant "What Happens In Vegas..." marketing campaign is "Always Turned On." In the middle of February, the only thing we could count on being always turned on was the gas fireplace.

In addition to seeing the ocean for the first time, Zoe took her first venture into a swimming pool, and loved it. We were comforted with the knowledge that she's not afraid of the water, knowing the big dip that awaits sometime over the next few months.

As an experiment, I employed a time-honored parenting tactic with Zoe to get some attention: reverse psychology. After tickling Zoe into submission, I ordered her to not tickle me in return. Which, being a three-year-old with a 'tude, she naturally went right ahead and did. With Zoe all caught up in the moment, I took it a step further and ordered her to not kiss me. Needless to say, five--count 'em, five--smooches were planted on my cheek accompanied by lots of laughter over my feigned protests. Hardly spontaneous, but I'll take what I can get, any way I can get it.

Newly-added to Zoe's diet over the weekend: decaf coffee, which we know she likes because 1) it's one of the few English words she can now pronounce perfectly, and 2) she's very comfortable ordering it in a restaurant. Warning: This is the sort of thing that can happen when you let grandparents babysit when you need a few hours of quality time in the casino.

Mush!

2006-02-17T12:47:00.000-05:00

The winter storm that blanketed much of the Northeast last weekend took its toll on our area, as Zoe witnessed her first significant snowstorm in her new home.

I took her to the window as she woke up Sunday morning and showed her the snow; she begged to play. Sure, there's plenty of snow in Yekaterinburg (accompanied by high temperatures this winter in the -30s), but the orphans generally aren't outside playing in it, preferring the balmy climes of their orphanages.

Zoe loved her first toboggan ride, while Sari did her best impression of a husky in the Iditarod race over and over again. Meanwhile, I had the arduous task of operating the camera until we got just the right shot.

Fun and games being over, it was then time to put Zoe to work. She insisted on helping ("I want to help!"), using her toy shovel to scoop a substantial portion of the 12" snowfall back onto our driveway. (Union.)

Where We Are...

2006-02-16T06:26:00.000-05:00

Yes, I know it's been nearly a month since my last entry. We've been busy. I'm once again employed crunching spreadsheets. Mama is back at work after a few months of exhausting one-on-one quality time. And Zoe is in fulltime daycare. So, here's where we are after nearly four months home...

(insert shamefully gratuitous portrait here)

Language: Zoe's English is improving every day, enhanced by her time in daycare around other kids her age. Verbally, we understand what she's trying to communicate about 90% of the time. As for the other 10%, we'll try to bring Jesse in for a consultation--he's very good at figuring out what she's trying to say. Or if he's unavailable, we'll just sort of nod in agreement, hoping we haven't just authorized her to get the butane lighter and torch her dollhouse.

If there's a favorite food or toy or activity she wants, she will take the steps to learn the appropriate word so that her intentions are clear, although the pronunciation is sometimes a little off..."Artoon" for cartoon. "Shpoon" for spoon. "Please," "thank you" and "you're welcome" are used appropriately and often. Phrases are starting to morph into sentences ("Papa, more chocolate milk...pleeease?!")

Her receptive skills were there from day one, and she seems to understand 99% of what we tell her. As for the other 1%, I suspect she understands, but just doesn't agree with it. Amazing.

What little Russian language there was is now almost entirely gone; about all that remains is "yo soma" ("I want to do it myself").

Diet: We're still sort of limited to just a handful of foods Zoe will routinely eat. The current #1 food--which must accompany every meal--is chocolate milk. Also big on the list: yogurt, applesauce, clementines (those oranges in the cute little crates), macaroni & cheese, grapes, bananas, breakfast cereal and jelly sandwiches. And a lot of crackers and cookies. Protein is not on the list--peanut butter gets a thumbs-down. Red meat is out. Occasionally we can sneak in a bite of chicken, but for the most part she's a vegan. We're working on variety, but she shows little interest in experimentation.

Zoe loves to go out to restaurants, and will now order her dinner a la carte all by herself, telling the server (while counting on her fingers): "Chocolate milk...mock and cheese...applesauce...shpoon. Please." And she'll order her meals at home the same way.

Activities: Zoe has gymnastics class every weekend and loves it. She's not quite ready for the Olympics, but the Eastern European genetics are there and 2020 is not totally out of the question.

Potty Training: Zoe arrived largely potty-trained; accidents are few and far between. Pull-ups are reserved for nighttime.

Behavior: Four months with us have managed to undermine much of the respect for authority Zoe had in the orphanage. In short, she's now a typical American three-year-old with a 'tude. When she does something wrong, we let her know it, and she shows genuine remorse. Anger and frustration are expressed by throwing things, which we're working on correcting.

The Girly Thing: She's into makeup, jewelry and the like. Males generally don't get as much attention as females, whether it's with our friends and family or her classmates at daycare. No shock there.

Jesse: The occasional turf battles over whether the TV is tuned to (c)artoons or The Weather Channel are largely eclipsed by affection, laughter and conspiring to drive us crazy. More than brother and sister, they are best friends.

Papa: I played the role of Mr. Mom for four days while Sari was away on business. There was a little crying here and there in between phone calls from Mama and she never did grasp the concept that Mama wasn't coming home immediately, but for the most part it went well. The promise of Mama bringing her a present when she returned kept her going for four days and was a major topic of conversation throughout the week. She held my hand when she needed to (although we didn't venture out to any major parking lots) and let me help her into her car seat when leaving home in the morning.

Around the house, she's my best friend. She motions to me or grabs my hand to lead me to whatever activity she wants to do at the moment, whether it's eating, playing, bathing or toileting.

In spite of all the mutual affection, there have been no kisses since the quick peck on the cheek in November (but I can plant one on her without much resistance). At this point in time, it's simply a control issue. She recognizes she gets far more attention by not kissing. And she's more than happy to blow a kiss in my direction if the situation calls for it. Compared to where we were four months ago, I'm happy to take whatever is offered.

To sum it all up, it's been a remarkable four months; our dreams have come true beyond our wildest expectations. I'll try to do better with updates. Promise.

Hair Today...Gone Tomorrow

2006-01-18T09:22:00.000-05:00

After three months on American soil, Zoe's orphanage 'do started taking on a life of its own, blocking her vision and posing a hazard to general aviation. So we went to our longtime family barber & stylist for her first haircut.

Zoe did fairly well, but only after planting herself on Mommy's lap for the duration of the cut. (A bribe of a lollipop didn't hurt any, either.) We weren't expecting miracles, just looking to set her in the right direction for a grow-out. And it's well on its way.

Stay tuned for more follicle follies...

Maggie's Got It Good

2006-01-13T16:43:00.000-05:00

What does it cost to raise a child? As demonstrated in the opening credits of The Simpsons, it's $847.63 per month (a figure cited in a study at the time the show went on the air in 1989). 17 years later, the Simpsons are still going strong and haven't felt the effects of inflation, but it's a safe bet this amount has now doubled.

Some skeptics questioned when I threw out a figure of 14¢ a day a few months ago as the amount Zoe's orphanage was spending per child. Just not possible. Well, it turns out that 14¢ may be at the high end of orphanage care in Russia. According to the Guardian, some Russian orphanages are somehow operating with under a penny a day per child in funding.

Foreign adoptive parents and agencies have always supplemented Russian government spending with donations to orphanages. Fewer adoptions being processed mean fewer donations are finding their way to greater numbers of children requiring basic care.

Meanwhile, the children continue to wait...and wait...and wait. At pennies a day.

Long Distance Playdate

2006-01-09T13:54:00.000-05:00

Our holiday break came to a close with a visit from William (Ilya), one of Zoe's orphanage mates from Yekaterinburg. We met Will and his American diplomat parents during our trip this past Fall. Will now lives in the Ukraine; the family was back on business over the holiday week. Will is adjusting quite nicely to Western ways, even 5,000 miles from his American hometown. In the meantime, Zoe has requested a subscription to Pravda for Kids. Go figure.

Some of Zoe's other playmates from Orphanage #2 are recent arrivals or will soon be coming to the Washington area, and we'll be scheduling playdates accordingly once they're settled.

Technology has made finding other adoptive parents of Russian children an easy task, especially in a major metropolitan area. Sari had her first Moms Night Out with our local FRUA (Friends for Russian and Ukrainian Adoption) chapter last week. I've gotten several inquiries through this blog as well as other online groups to which I belong. With 50,000 adoptions over the last fifteen years, it is a large and thankfully still-growing community.

ChaNEWkah Part(y) IV

2006-01-02T01:25:00.000-05:00

"Just what I wanted!"

The New Year brought the last of the Chanukah parties. Zoe was a first-timer at my cousin's annual extended family holiday celebration and loved it all.

By now, the word "present" is firmly in her vocabulary as she had been showered with gifts on an almost daily basis for two weeks straight. Her birthday two months earlier was a low-key celebration and the whole gift concept confused her. Now she's on top of the present thing like a big dog.

Speaking of big dogs...Zoe even warmed up a little to (okay, eventually didn't scream at the sight of) Lewis, my cousin's new pound puppy who's just a little smaller than, say, a Volkswagen. The "dog thing" goes back to the orphanage, where there aren't a whole lot of cute puppies running around. There are wild dogs roaming the streets of Yekaterinburg and other cities in Russia, and the children are warned about them without learning the distinction between a "good" dog from a "bad" one.

Latkes were in abundance--106 of them by the official count--and Zoe of course was content with the accompanying applesauce.

As expected, Zoe charmed the crowd as Chanukah 5766 finally came to a close.

Papa For Hire

2005-12-31T10:27:00.000-05:00

True confessions time: Blogging is not Papa's fulltime job, merely a helpful exercise to keep the right side of his brain from atrophying. Papa's days for the last twenty years have been filled with financial analysis and reporting, project control, budget development and tracking, accounting, office management and program administration. In short, I'm a spreadsheet geek...and damned proud of it.

If you know of any left-brain openings in the Washington, D.C. area for the new year (especially with family-friendly employers), please let Papa know. Thanks!

She'll Take Manhattan

2005-12-29T09:57:00.000-05:00

After two days in New Jersey, we were ready to move on to "the city." New York was great, but you don't realize how stroller-unfriendly it is with its crowded restaurants and huge stairways into facilities like the subway which are somehow exempted from the ADA.
With no Chanukah bush in sight, the tree in the lobby of our hotel made a nice substitute for a family picture. We saw the big tree at Rockefeller Center and a few store windows and basically did what we do best in NYC--walked. And we shopped. And we ate. Zoe passed on most of the culinary delights the city offered in favor of applesauce.
The highlight of our trip was a visit to the Childrens Museum of Manhattan on the Upper West Side. They have a big Dora the Explorer exhibit. Dora is one of three American toddler cultural icons Zoe has embraced (the other two being Elmo and Mickey Mouse) and she was genuinely thrilled to be there. No holiday road trip to NJNY would be complete without somehow celebrating our friend Julie's birthday. Zoe had a great time hanging out with Michelle and Rebecca at the Menlo Park Mall. The Cheesecake Factory's menu probably has about 200 items for Zoe to choose from, and she thoroughly enjoyed her applesauce.

Chanukah Part(y) III...Road Trip

2005-12-26T18:19:00.000-05:00

The trip to Baltimore gave us an hour headstart towards our first holiday destination of Wayne, New Jersey for Zoe's first car roadtrip. She did great on the 3-1/2 hour ride, even joining me in cursing the Delaware Department of Transportation's $1 toll increase on their piddling stretch of highway (which actually amounts to a $1.75 increase for EZPass users).

A visit to the Magentas became a two-day orgy of food, fun and laughter. Zoe ate and ate...applesauce. Counting another celebration not documented herein, this was our fourth Chanukah party in a week, and the holiday was still 24 hours away from its official start.

We introduced Zoe to the sport of geocaching, where she joined Team Love Cloud on its first find.

And, we're off to the remote island of Manhattan...

Chanukah Part(y) II

2005-12-23T23:31:00.000-05:00

Our holiday week began with a trip to the Baltimore area for Sari's extended family pre-Chanukah celebration. Once again, Zoe met and charmed even more relatives, like cousins Heather and Sharon. Zoe also met great-great-aunt Shirley, who also came to America as a little girl from Eastern Europe (albeit 97 years earlier).Bananas have now been supplanted by applesauce as Zoe's favorite food. As a traditional fixin' to the potato latke, the liquid gold was thankfully in abundant supply as the newly-opened Motts pipeline flowed freely from Washington to New York.

A Very Zoe Holiday...

2005-12-22T09:46:00.000-05:00

We're off for a few days as Zoe explores the mid-Atlantic region on her first road trip. The various Chanukah celebrations started a week early last Sunday and continue through New Year's Day, meaning a relatively minor holiday on the Jewish calendar now has a lifespan this year of 15 days.

Dogs may become an issue over the holidays, as several of our family and friends we'll be visiting have them. Zoe lives in fear of dogs--the only ones she knows from her orphanage life are the mean-looking guard dogs. She hasn't made the association that there's a warm and fuzzy variety trained to cuddle and play and love. Family allergies prevent us from having a dog--not to mention the lack of responsibility we've demonstrated in caring for living things such as houseplants. So we're packing the Benadryl while keeping our fingers crossed as Zoe meets her new canine friends.

We'll have plenty of photos and good stuff to share when we return in 2006. We wish you all the best for a safe, happy holiday season.

Scenes from a Mall

2005-12-12T20:51:00.000-05:00

What better place to spend a Sunday two weeks before Christmas than a shopping mall? Jesse and I are both big model train fans, so we enjoyed the huge display at Towson's Shops at Kenilworth. Zoe was more interested in her new pastime--throwing coins into the huge fountain.

Here's the windup...

...and the pitch! We emptied the pennies from all our pockets. In all, Zoe threw about fifteen of them. Coincidentally, the same 15¢ is about equal to what the orphanage back in Yekaterinburg receives in government funding to care for each child each day.

Is this a great country, or what?

Our Other Star...Jesse

2005-12-11T20:11:00.000-05:00

While Zoe is clearly the star of this blog, let's remember big brother Jesse's role in day-to-day operations.

Much like Ted Williams' head, Jesse's own place in cyberspace was cryogenically frozen in time back in 2002, when the last update was made to the Jesseplex (the state of the art in kid websites from the last millenium). Jesse is now six and doing incredibly well in the first grade.

Our adoption journey began shortly before Jesse's fourth birthday. Jesse has always been very perceptive; we knew there would be lots of talk on the phone and with friends and family about our plans. So from the outset, we decided it would be best to be up front with him so we wouldn't have to whisper and talk in code.

We showed him a map of the world and pointed out our location, then way off to the right we showed him a far-off land called Russia. Summoning the ghosts of Robert Young, Hugh Beaumont and Robert Reed, I told Jesse that somewhere in Russia was a little girl (we were always planning on a girl) who didn't have a mommy or daddy. Then I moved on to talk about how some babies, like Jesse, came out of their mommies' tummies.

Before I could get to the point of the long-winded diatribe, Jesse quickly interrupted me. "Are we going to adopt her?"

With that, we knew Jesse was onboard with "Project Tatiana," as we code-named the operation. From that day continuing for the next two years, Jesse proudly talked to everybody about his baby sister in Russia, who he knew only conceptually for the year before our referral, and then only through our photos for another year. Jesse's patience, whether genuine or part of a secret desire to remain an only child just a little while longer, helped us get through some very tough moments.

From their first meeting, Jesse and Zoe embraced each other with open arms and have been inseparable. Jesse grabs her hand when we're out in public and makes sure to introduce her to each new acquaintance, unsolicited. They are playmates and best friends. When they're not together, each will ask about the other's whereabouts. There is a little teasing and taunting, but usually there's constant laughter whenever they're together.

There is a word in Yiddish--b'shert--which expresses the idea that something is meant to be, destined. If anyone out there happens to be publishing a Yiddish dictionary with pictures, feel free to use this one royalty-free.

Airing Our Dirty Laundry

2005-12-05T07:02:00.000-05:00

We still haven't caught up with the laundry since returning from Russia six weeks ago. The combination of additional clothing demands from our larger family and sheer laziness has created a never-ending surplus of clothes in need of washing. The best estimate judging from the satellite view of Mt. Laundry, as I've dubbed the ever-changing pile of soiled fabric in our basement, currently puts us about three washloads away from completion.Laundry is the highlight of Zoe's early homeschooling curriculum, and she seems to love it. She looks forward to visiting Mt. Laundry with me, rolling in it as if making a snow angel. She'll start by standing by the dryer to put in the wet clothes I pull out of the washer. Then we move on to scale Mt. Laundry together. I'll call out a color and she picks out all the items of that color to create a washload and slam-dunks them into the washer drum. With so much laundry to deal with, we can create entire washloads consisting of just one color, and not just whites. Yesterday we did a blue load and then a red load. If we wait a few weeks, even lowly chartreuse could get its own exclusive wash and dry.

While I get the arduous washer/dryer detail in the basement, Sari gets the cushy job of supervising sorting and folding operations from the comfort of the bedroom. Zoe enjoys delivering each item to the proper room after receiving instructions, often one piece at a time. She's well aware that her toddler socks won't fit my size 14 feet, but nevertheless brings them to me and laughs hysterically as she encourages me to try them on.

We've promised ourselves real, paid help with childcare and the laundry upon Sari's return to the working world in January. While I'll be sorry to see Mt. Laundry go, the potential of having my own clean, matched socks available 24/7 is just too good to pass up.

Papa's Little Girl?

2005-12-05T05:54:00.000-05:00

Up to this point, photos of Zoe and I together are extremely rare. At the lowpoint of our relationship back in Russia when Zoe was screaming bloody murder at my very presence, we faced the challenge of getting a mandatory photo of the three of us to show the judge at our hearing. Not having access to photo manipulation software overseas, we simply set up a two-shot of Sari and Zoe, then I managed to sneak into the back of the pose.

What you're seeing here is the real deal, not some Photoshop fantasy. If you don't believe me, consider this...if it were faked, wouldn't I have given myself more hair?

Primetime Post-Mortem

2005-12-02T07:21:00.000-05:00

In spite of (or perhaps because of) the advance buzz, what we saw last night wasn't a condemnation of the international adoption process. What we saw was Masha, an incredibly brave child sexual abuse victim willing to tell her story.

Did authorities place Masha with a father they knew (or should have known) was a pedophile? With a clean criminal record, the only indication rested with Matthew Mancuso's estranged adult biological daughter. Also a victim of Mancuso's abuse, she came out with the revelation for the first time on last night's broadcast. (Even her own mother was unaware of the extent of the abuse.)

The ex-wife and adult daughter were never contacted to address his parenting skills (or more specifically, lack thereof) as part of the investigation in advance of the adoption. But the daughter wasn't ready to talk at that time, either. She learned of the adoption and, while appalled, maintained her silence.

Where "the system" clearly failed was through the complete absence of post-placement home visits, which certainly would have indicated a problem. Masha had no bedroom. The adoption professionals who handled the case understandably weren't willing to comment.

Reporting was fair and balanced. The international adoption folks got plenty of airtime to condemn the Mancuso case along with the handful of other Russian adoptions gone bad (which ABC didn't even bring up) and point out the 49,000 success stories from Russia since the program opened.

It's a story laden with both horror and hope, and one that needed to be told. Given that the "news" of the Mancuso story is so dated and that ABC responsibly presented this as an isolated incident, the effect this much-feared broadcast will have on future international adoptions is negligible.

Blogger's Disclosure: The blogger is still a shareholder of The Walt Disney Company, of which ABC is a subsidiary.

Primetime Broadcast Tonight

2005-12-01T03:47:00.000-05:00

Confirmed on ABC's website: the Matthew Mancuso story will air tonight at 10 p.m. Eastern.

"A Russian orphan adopted by an American man speaks out for the first time about being molested by her adoptive father--who posted explicit photographs of the little girl online."

It's hard to get much out of a one-sentence synopsis, but perhaps Masha's story will be presented as one isolated tragic and newsworthy tale, not a hasty generalization showing adoptive parents as abusive human traffickers and those involved in the adoption process as incompetent and greedy.

To ensure ABC is employing fair, unbiased reporting, let's keep our eyes and ears open for:

Statistics. If and when they start throwing out numerators of international adoptions gone bad in the U.S., let's make sure they're put in context by also including the proper demoninator:

5,000 adoptions from Russia per year at current levels
23,000 total international adoptions per year at current levels
49,000 total adoptions from Russia since the program opened in 1992
227,000 total international adoptions since 1990

Sexism. See if the report hints that someone should have seen a red flag simply because a single man looked to adopt a child. Would such a flag be raised if a single woman looked to adopt a child?

The little I know about Mancuso's background--and I'm sure we'll all know more after tonight's broadcast--is that he has an adult-aged (biological) daughter with whom he has no relationship. That's what should have been investigated prior to approving his home study, and it wasn't. Otherwise, free of a criminal record, Mancuso was as qualified to adopt as "the next guy."

Post-mortem on the broadcast to follow.

Happy Thanksgiving, Hon!

2005-11-28T23:46:00.000-05:00

Our first major family holiday with Zoe was an unqualified hit. We held open house all day at Bubbe Esther and Pop-Pop Bill's new home so she could meet some of our Bawlmer (that's Merlin's largest city) people. And they came by the dozens...friends, aunts, uncles and cousins. Local favorites like french fries drowning in gravy, crabcakes and corned beef all gave way to the traditional Thanksgiving feast. Zoe made do with lots of tortilla chips and one of her new favorites, pumpkin pie.

Zoe was all girl, helping herself not only to Grandma's lipstick, but the contents of Bubbe's closet, as well.

On Friday, it was back to Charm City and the fabulous Inner Harbor for a visit to the Maryland Science Center and lunch with friends. Zoe loved the Science Center, especially the water play area.

We capped off the long weekend with some entertaining at home. If there were ever any doubt, we now know Zoe is a real "people person." In all, she discovered perhaps thirty new friends and family over the long weekend and enjoyed meeting each of them, with just a simple "bye-bye" at separation.

The First Month

2005-11-23T10:58:00.000-05:00

A little over a month ago, Zoe landed onto American soil and into our family's daily routine. While we're required to submit reports to the Russian authorities after six months on her activities, I'm more than happy to present this informal interim report as a warmup of sorts. Plus, I've been getting a lot of public pressure for less soapboxing, less shtick, and more Zoe (with pictures). So, away we go...

After looking to Papa for breakfast, Zoe begins each weekday morning walking Jesse to the school bus. But it's not only Jesse getting ready for school, Zoe's ready, as well. "All dressed up, with nowhere to go," Zoe insists on carrying her own empty backpack to the bus stop before spending the day with Mommy (formerly Mama). Soon enough, preschool will start when Mommy returns to work in January. She's already getting a headstart by occasionally "auditing" her future full-day class while we pick up Jesse from his afterschool program.

Zoe's day consists of a mix of music and gymnastics classes, routine post-adoption medical appointments, and running assorted errands with Mommy including occasional lunches with friends. The separation issues we encountered several weeks ago with each new friend and family member she meets are largely over; they are no longer instructed to "sit on their hands" when they meet Zoe and are free to hug and hold her if she so allows. Her afternoon nap usually begins on the drive home from lunch and lasts until it's time to pick Jesse up from his afterschool program.

To celebrate their first month together, Zoe joined Mommy for their first joint manicures yesterday. Her hair still needs to grow out from the orphanage coif before anything really creative can be done there.

Both Jesse and Papa are asked about frequently in absentia. Jesse gets hugs and kisses with each afternoon reunion; Papa gets smiles, giggles and offers to join her to play with her newest toys. She follows me around the house constantly and allows me to entertain her for what seems like hours at a time, but still allows little physical contact and needs to check in with Sari every so often to make sure she's available.

If Sari is within reach, I can tickle Zoe into submission and can even pick her up and carry her short distances. But there are still certain times that my sole presence still brings out screams and Sari's presence is required, such as when she needs to be removed from her carseat or is just waking up from a nap.

I'm still a long way from soloing, but that's our goal for January, when a business trip possibly awaits Sari upon her return to work.

Some of her favorite playthings: the electric piano, miniature stroller and Pack'n'Play for her doll. The toy kitchen was a hit for her first real playdate this weekend.

And, slowly but surely, the English is coming in a word at a time. In no particular order, here's just some of the vocabulary so far (some of which replaces the equivalent Russian):

apple
banana
cheese
delicious
please
thank you
give me
excuse me
wow!
shopping
oatmeal
paper
phone
baby
doll
again!
book
shower
Can name most colors
Can sing the "A-B-C"s, although it gets sort of lost with the accent.

Weekends seem to bring special events which mandate dressing up a little, especially while Zoe continues to make her debut in venues across North America. This Thanksgiving holiday weekend will certainly be no exception.

And as much as I'm trying to resist the obvious cliché, we'll truly have a lot to be thankful for sitting around the holiday table this year. Here's wishing you and yours a happy, safe weekend and we'll catch up next week.

Going Global

2005-11-19T14:48:00.000-05:00

You know you've made the blogging bigtime when you get a reference from across the world, in another language. Check out this thread.

I'd love to reply in kind if the post warrants, but face one tiny obstacle. My ten-word Russian vocabulary doesn't tell me whether I'm being villified or patted on the back. If someone could help me out and send a rough translation, I'd be forever grateful.

Postscript: Thanks to all who responded with the automated web translations, which seemed to clear this up to the point that I realize I'm not being villified. Any additional human translation insight is appreciated. Thanks!

An Adoption Story If There Ever Was One

2005-11-18T08:16:00.000-05:00

Well, those of you who were looking for an adoption story on last night's Primetime broadcast couldn't have been totally disappointed with the Anna Nicole Smith segment. The grieving widow's relationship with the very, er, mature billionaire J. Howard Marshall was its own adoption story, with some elements even mirroring our own experiences.

The TV Guide Synopsis
J. Howard & Anna Nicole: With time slipping away, an aging, enfeebled billionaire looks for a young available female in an effort to make his life complete.
(Us and Zoe: With time slipping away, an aging, infertile couple looks for a young available female in an effort to make their family complete.)

How She Was Enticed Into Relationship
Anna Nicole: Gifts of jewelry, cars, real estate, breast implants and loads of cash.
(Zoe: Gifts of Pepperidge Farm Goldfish crackers, lollipops and a toy cellphone.)

Promises Made
J. Howard to Anna Nicole: To love, honor and cherish, and take care of her for the rest of his life.
(Us to Zoe: To love, honor and cherish, and take care of her for presumably longer than fourteen months.)

Roadblock Relative
Anna Nicole: Stepson E. Pierce Marshall, who labels her a "gold digger" and initiates battle to retain his claim to the old man's fortune.
(Zoe: Brother Jesse, who labels her a "toy stealer" and initiates battle to retain his claim to the LeapPad.)

Phrases Commonly Heard
Anna Nicole: "I want." "Give me." "More." "This diaper needs to be changed." All spoken with a Texas drawl.
(Zoe: "I want." "Give me." "More." "This diaper needs to be changed." All spoken in toddler Russian.)

Nature of Relationship with Father Figure
Anna Nicole: Loved to tempt and play games, but with a total adversion to any meaningful physical contact.
(Zoe: 'Nuff said, I'm sure it will come in time.)

Where Are They Now?
J. Howard: Judge divides ashes, distributes them evenly to both widow and son.
Anna Nicole: In bankruptcy, headed for the U.S. Supreme Court in last-ditch legal effort to win share of husband's fortune.
(Zoe: Living quite comfortably in suburbia, thank you very much.)

So what happened on Primetime?

2005-11-17T22:45:00.000-05:00

There was no sign of the much-ballyhooed international adoption segment which we heard was going to air tonight. Was its scheduled airing the product of a baseless web rumor? Did a slew of e-mails to ABC kill the segment or at least convince them to take some time to apply some polish (such as relevant facts) to it? Stay tuned, we'll try to find out what happened.

Blogger's Postscript: Other postings around the 'net indicate that the Primetime story is actually scheduled to air on December 1. So much for reliable sources. We'll see what happens in two weeks...

Breaking news...

2005-11-17T15:57:00.000-05:00

Matthew Mancuso receives a sentence of 35-70 years on the state charges of rape of his adopted daughter.

And adoption by foreigners in Russia takes center stage in the Duma (Russian legislature).

You Must Remember This...

2005-11-11T11:48:00.000-05:00

It was just a quick peck on the cheek, but last night--388 days after meeting--Zoe finally delivered a first kiss for Papa.

Other firsts in the last 24 hours:

First accidentally-completed phone call (to the 9-1-1 operator)
First visit to Pikesville, Mama's homeland

Have a great weekend.

More Help Needed

2005-11-08T17:04:00.000-05:00

You may recall from this blog or have otherwise learned about the horrific case of Matthew Mancuso, the Pittsburgh-area man convicted of involving his Russian adoptee daughter in child pornography.

Apparently, the Mancuso story will be the centerpiece of an upcoming segment on ABC's Primetime focusing on international adoption. When a network ratings sweeps period meets up with National Adoption Awareness Month, don't expect to see a fair representation of adoption success stories. Expect to see cases like Mancuso's described as part of an epidemic, growing trend equating international adoption with human trafficking. Warm and fuzzy adoption stories = lower ratings = lower advertising rates for ABC.

For those parents still in the process of or considering international adoption (not just from Russia), it's a long road ahead. An unbalanced report underplaying the overwhelming majority of successful international adoptions could make this road even longer. Reports in the media can become justification for foreign governments to slow down adoptions in process (they certainly didn't make ours go any quicker) or to even consider closing their programs. It would be tragic if an unbalanced news report left hundreds of thousands of orphans stranded waiting for new homes, all in the name of higher ratings.

So what can you do?

First, Mancuso is scheduled for sentencing on November 14. Consider writing to the judge handling the case to encourage imposition of the maximum sentence. At the very least, we need to let the world know that America does not tolerate those who abuse children. This will help to mitigate any damage caused by the Primetime report when it airs.

Hon. Donna Jo McDaniel
Court of Common Pleas
323 Courthouse
Pittsburgh, PA 15233

Re: Sentencing of Matthew Mancuso

Next, write to Primetime (click here) to ensure that their upcoming report presents the state of international adoption in a fair, responsible manner. You never know...maybe their report will wind up being more balanced than what we've heard. After it airs, give them more feedback.

Thanks for your help.

Blogger's Disclosure: The blogger is a shareholder of The Walt Disney Company, of which ABC is a subsidiary.

Warming Trend

2005-11-06T23:57:00.000-05:00

Aided by the unseasonably warm weather, we had a great weekend with the kids. And I'm happy to report things also warmed up between Zoe and her Papa.

Zoe sought me out for playtime, engaging me at every opportunity. She wanted breakfast; Sari sent her downstairs to get breakfast from Papa, and she went without hesitation. And she ate everything I could throw at her...two hard-boiled eggs, a banana, a Danimals yogurt. We laughed and made silly faces at each other. All weekend, she kept gesturing for me to follow to watch what she was doing on the playground and around the house (even the bathroom). When I wasn't visible, she kept asking for me. Tonight, she wouldn't let me leave the house to run an errand without putting up a fight.

In addition to Zoe's finally realizing what a great guy her Papa is, I think she's now sensing Sari's growing exhaustion. Since bringing her home over two weeks ago, Zoe has been Sari's constant shadow, including in our claustrophobic 1950s master bathroom. And she's up very early every morning, which seems to be part of her regular routine and will be hard to break. I'm up just as early, but that doesn't mean much when Zoe demands her mother's attention.

Sari truly needed some quality time to herself on Saturday. We wisely decided to time this to coincide with Zoe's typical two hour nap. We kept Zoe up past her regular afternoon naptime and ran her ragged to ensure she was extra-tired. After jump-starting her nap by laying down next to Zoe, Sari burned rubber to get to the hairdresser. It seemed like the perfect plan.

Until 90 minutes later. The phone, which had been strangely silent all afternoon, rang. There's no phone in Zoe's room and I managed to pick it up after one ring, yet it was still enough to wake her up. And bring her staggering into our room.

"Mama?...Mama?" All she saw was me, recovering from my own shortened nap.

"Mama will be home soon." Soon wouldn't be quick enough.

"Mama? Mama? Ma-ma!!!! Ma-ma!!!" The tears started flowing, and she began running throughout the house looking for Sari. She cowered in the corner of Sari's office as I approached to further clarify the Mama situation. "Mama will be home soon...really soon...really, really soon. Jesse, tell her Mama will be home soon." More tears and screams.

To make matters worse, Sari was running late. So I simply walked away and figured Zoe would just have to work it out. In all, the crying and repeated "Mama"s lasted 25 minutes until hunger got the best of her. She composed herself and came to the table for her dinner of a banana and a rice cake. Minutes later, a well-coiffed Sari arrived home to major hugs and kisses.

So where does this leave Zoe and I? I'd say we're about halfway there. The other half is the physical aspect and trust. Zoe still won't allow me to touch her, and she won't touch me, even with so much as a high-five in a moment of exuberance. She'll place objects in my hand and take them, but won't sit next to me or allow other situations where incidental contact is likely. All of this renders me somewhat ineffective where physical contact with your three-year-old is clearly necessary, such as walking in a parking lot or getting her into a carseat. And as much as we clearly enjoy each other's company, we're light years away from going anywhere without Mama.

I described the weekend's progress to my friend Michael, who often walks a tightrope between being one of this blog's groupies, editorial critics and arbiters of good taste. Would it be inappropriate or misunderstood to compare my progress with Zoe to reaching certain milestones in the dating process? Michael quickly reminded me that I was dangerously pushing the envelope with last week's Chiquita intervention, so I won't elaborate further.

Except to say that I think she really, really likes me.

That's One Small Step For A Man...

2005-11-04T02:52:00.000-05:00

The absence of a hug, kiss, handshake or verbal engagement from your child over your entire relationship can take its toll on a parent. Since the "Papa issue" surfaced during our first visit with Zoe a year ago, I've gotten loads of reassuring feedback, encouraging me not to take it personally.

"It's a guy thing, they don't see a lot of men in the orphanage." Well, it's not a guy thing. While Zoe definitely prefers hanging with women, she will occasionally hold on to a visiting male hand to lead a tour of her new home. And she has "dissed" more than one female.

"It's your height." While my width may have become a little frightening over the years, it's definitely not a height thing. My brothers, who are almost as tall and even look a little like me, don't get the visceral reactions reserved for me.

"One day, she'll be Daddy's little girl. Happens all the time." Things have been improving slowly over the last week, and while Zoe will eventually become Daddy's girl, it can sometimes take months for Daddies in similar situations to get as much as the time of day.

Mama is certainly loving Zoe's company, but having your own shadow 24/7 isn't all it's cracked up to be when you're exhausted and need a little time to yourself. Jesse is a helpful big brother, but not enough of a draw to distract Zoe from Mama for more than a minute or two.

With all that in mind, we decided to bring on the professionals.

The three of us attended a one-hour session yesterday with the Center for Adoption Support and Education. In the office/playroom setting, it took the the social worker all of about ten seconds to size up the situation.

"Mama, don't look at Zoe. Sit back, and look at Papa." Without Mama offering eye contact, Zoe's focus was entirely on me. We played one-on-one for most of the session, throwing simulated plastic food at each other, making funny faces, laughing. While Zoe still cringed at the prospect of physical contact, we were light-years ahead of where we were at the start of the hour.

While Zoe and I played, Sari and I discussed attachment issues with the social worker. Zoe attaches almost instantly to the numerous friends and family who have visited or she has met outside the house. Usually it begins with something as seemingly innocent as holding her hand, or helping her by cutting up food on her plate. But it inevitably ends with a major, unpleasant scene when the time inevitably comes to part company.

The instantaneous bonding is not unusual when you're used to three years of being passed from caregiver to caregiver over eight-hour shifts. But Zoe has to understand who the primary caregivers are--Mama and Papa. Visits to the house and lunch with the girls are both fine, but as much as our friends and extended family want to hold and hug and help this very holdable, huggable kid, now is not the time.

When will we know when it's time? "You'll know." Did we need to be seen again? "You don't need it."

As amazing as this first and last social work session was, nothing prepared us for what happened as we left the office. Zoe handed the borrowed restroom key back to the social worker, who used the one Russian word in her vocabulary to thank her..."Spaseeba."

To which Zoe replied, without missing a beat: "Nyet Russki!" No Russian! Our jaws simultaneously dropped to the floor. We never knew the word "Russki" was even in her vocabulary, much less that she would be able to clearly express that she now prefers to hear English after less than two weeks in America.

We returned home for a little more impromptu playtime and lunch, with Zoe running back and forth laughing in the hallway between Mama in her office and me in the kitchen. She followed me to the basement--alone--to watch me bring up some laundry and paper towels.

As Zoe finished her lunch, she saw me put on my jacket and grab my car keys to run a quick errand. From behind, I gave her a quick peck on the top of the head (a maneuver she can't see coming and is helpless to defend) and told her I'd be right back. I opened the kitchen door to leave.

"Bye-bye, Papa."

And I made sure I was right back.

Jammie Airlift

2005-11-03T16:43:00.000-05:00

In recognition of National Adoption Awareness Month, Jill Norton with Great American Restaurants is coordinating a warm pajama drive with the goal of distributing 200 pairs of pajamas to Russian orphanages this winter. Bring any new childrens' pajamas to the host station of any of the chain's restaurants (click here for locations) in the Northern Virginia area during the month of November and they will find their way to Russia. Label the bag/package for "Jill Norton-Support Center."

If you're traveling to Russia before the end of the year and have room in your suitcase to take pajamas to your orphanage, please e-mail Jill to let her know.

If you'd rather send your pajamas by mail/delivery, send to:

Jill Norton
Great American Restaurants
3066 Gatehouse Plaza
Falls Church, VA 22046

Zoe is 3!

2005-11-01T23:54:00.000-05:00

How do you celebrate your kid's birthday when she's in a new country with new parents learning a new language for little more than a week? What happens to the guest list when the only friends she's ever known are over 5,000 miles away?

Thanks to a teachers' professional day, schools were closed and Jesse was able to join us on what turned out to be a beautiful Fall day. In recognition of how great he has been in the role of big brother (plus seeing how we were away for his birthday), we let him decide how we should celebrate his sister's birthday. He chose the National Zoo.

Zoe had a great time, and seemed to especially enjoy watching giant panda Tian Tian shake his butt in our faces for what seemed to be an eternity. Also capturing her interest were the golden lion tamarins, and the presence of some of the larger animal "ca-cas" adorning the exhibits. The champion? The giant land tortoise. These guys live to be up to 150 years old. I should only be so regular at 42.

We finished off the day with a small family dinner with our parents. Zoe got her first taste of birthday cake, which she proclaimed to be "de-licious," one of her first English words and one you'll want to hear her say over and over again even when her mouth is full. While she hasn't had other cakes, her all-time favorite is and always will be yellow cake with chocolate icing from the Giant. Coincidentally, that's also Mama and Papa's favorite. Go figure.

Finally, among the birthday and other greetings Zoe has received in the last week, one special birthday card managed to arrive right on schedule today (after being mailed ten days ago) from Yekaterinburg.

We thought we had met all of Zoe's wonderful caregivers (there were about a dozen working various shifts) over our numerous trips to the orphanage, but somehow hadn't met this one, Helen, until our final "pickup" visit. She showed up on her day off to give Zoe a tearful goodbye and a present.

The impression Zoe left in her heart was clear from Helen's card, and she included a note thanking us for taking such good care of her.

We only wish we could say Zoe is the well-mannered, happy child she is today as the result of what we've done for her in just two weeks together. What they manage to accomplish at the orphanage--with little more than 15¢ per day in government funding to feed and provide medication for each child--is beyond amazing. Love manages to stretch such a small amount a long way.

Sunday Photos

2005-10-31T23:35:00.000-05:00

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.

The Great Chiquita Intervention

2005-10-30T09:27:00.000-05:00

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...

"She Looks Like a Zoe"

2005-10-29T22:33:00.000-04:00

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.

Basket Cases

2005-10-28T16:08:00.000-04:00

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.

"Brrrrring, Brrrrring...Ahllloooo?"

2005-10-27T06:05:00.000-04:00

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.

Food, Glorious Food

2005-10-25T21:20:00.000-04:00

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.

Life in the 'Burbs

2005-10-24T23:29:00.000-04:00

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.

The First 24 Hours

2005-10-23T22:25:00.000-04:00

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.

Coming to America

2005-10-22T23:37:00.000-04:00

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.

Mission to Moscow

2005-10-21T23:41:00.000-04:00

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.

Freedom!

2005-10-20T06:09:00.000-04:00

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...

Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork

2005-10-19T06:13:00.000-04:00

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...

Flying solo

2005-10-18T05:39:00.000-04:00

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....

Taking Care of Business Back Home

2005-10-12T03:22:00.000-04:00

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.

Adoption Day!

2005-10-05T09:21:00.000-04:00

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.

St.Petersburg...the most beautiful city on earth...

2005-10-03T23:32:00.000-04:00

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!)

Making the best of it

2005-09-28T17:50:00.000-04:00

Well, instead of going to court, we spent Wednesday afternoon at the travel agent with the Wolfes making arrangements to go to beautiful St. Petersburg, about 1,100 miles to the west. We're outta here Friday morning until Monday. The girls will be fine without us for a few days.

Last night, we were so exhausted and upset by the court delay that we opted out of the late afternoon visit to the orphanage for an early dinner and some sleep. Elena, seeing the other parents there without us, broke away from her group and marched into the director's office, demanding to know "Where's my Mama?!"

Even if Papa didn't rate a mention, it doesn't get any better.

A bullet we couldn't dodge...

2005-09-27T20:36:00.000-04:00

So, you've flown nearly halfway across the world to make a court date. And the evening before the court date, you're told that one piece of paper--within the Russian government system--didn't get from point A to point B, and your court date is now postponed a week.

Yes, it happened to us. And, since we're bonded to the Wolfes throughout the adoption process, it happened to their piece of paper, as well.

Yekaterinburg is not the worst place in the world; it's a rust-belt city on the verge of a comeback, the fifth-largest in Russia in terms of population and the third-largest in terms of commerce. But frankly we weren't planning on spending an extra week here, even if it means more quality time with Elena, as there's not a lot for English-speaking tourists to do.

There is absolutely no English spoken at our hotel, all the TV stations are in Russian, and--thinking I'd only be there five days--I didn't bring anything to read. The closest Internet cafe to our hotel is a mile away; in spite of my GPS tracking and navigation skills, our handlers in Yekaterinburg won't allow me to venture out on my own beyond a block from the hotel, feeling it's too dangerous for someone whose Russian vocabulary consists of "da" (yes), "nyet" (no), and "spaseeba" (thank you).

Our employers, children back home in the States and their caregivers, wardrobes, camera supplies and budgets also weren't prepared for this surprise. We're getting a little depressed and homesick knowing we're here for an extra week.

And here's Elena...

2005-09-25T22:36:00.000-04:00

Well, it's safe to say we picked up where we left off nearly a year ago. Elena remains Mama's little girl. Men--not to mention those who are 6'5"--are not a common sight in a Russian orphanage, and it's not all that unusual for little girls to be shy (or even terrified) around them...or so I'm told. Bonding with Papa will come in time.

One thing about Russian orphanages--they're uncomfortably warm inside, and they tend to overdress the kids for the weather. The temperature outside is probably about 60F, and the children are dressed in snowsuits with several layers underneath.

And it's Fall...the leaves are mostly off the trees. Valeria ("Laira"), the Wolfes' daughter, is still Elena's best bud a year after our first visit and the girls are forever bonded. With the Wolfes, we shared our first visit a year ago, a suite at the Frankfurt Sheraton during our layover yesterday, and are sharing our court date Wednesday.

Dodging the bullet...

2005-09-25T07:31:00.000-04:00

Well, here's the end of the story...we arrived in Yekaterinburg safe and sound this (Sunday) morning after leaving from Dulles late Friday afternoon, thanks to a ten-hour time change and 14-hour layover in Frankfurt, Germany. But not before the Judge pulled out one final item from her bag of tricks on Friday.

At 6:30 a.m. Friday, we learned that one minor but essential change to our paperwork was ordered. And that the Judge required that we get the same individual to perform the notarization on this paperwork as had done so six months earlier. Failure to get notarization would mean no trip to Russia later that day and our court date would be vaporized.

Fortunately, we know our notary well enough that we were able to call him early in the morning at home and ensure we would be able to find him before leaving. The Wolfes, our traveling partners, did not know their notary so well. But their bank managed to find that specific employee (who was off on a vacation day) and convince her to come into the office and do the notarization. Amazingly, all four of the families with our agency having court dates got the early morning documentation wake-up call and managed to get the proper notarization before getting on their respective planes later that day.

And more paperwork was rushed to us at the airport by courier at the last minute before we had to leave the security area to board our flight, enabling another family to meet their court date.

And we're off...first to the hotel to drop off our stuff, then to the orphanage to see Elena.

Travel Preparations

2005-09-21T08:44:00.000-04:00

We leave for Yekaterinburg Friday for our court date a week from today. Not surprisingly, we have more paperwork changes from the Judge in preparation for our journey. Keep your fingers crossed.

We're going back!

2005-09-09T16:35:00.000-04:00

We just received word that our paperwork has been accepted and we have a court date scheduled in Yekaterinburg for September 28!

And they're off!

2005-08-27T14:21:00.000-04:00

More documents "russian" their way to Moscow...Follow their adventures here!

More from the courts...

2005-08-24T17:20:00.000-04:00

Until now, I was operating under the belief that the American adoptive parents gone bad (such as those cited previously in this blog) were all basically good people with the best of intentions who somehow bit off more than they could chew with their adopted Russian children. After adoption, they either snapped or for one reason or another couldn't find the appropriate way to deal with children they just couldn't handle.

Which is why the case of Matthew Mancuso of suburban Pittsburgh is particularly disturbing. As we have managed to dispel rumors in Russia that Americans are adopting Russian children in order to harvest and sell their organs, here's an adoption done for clearly illicit purposes. As expected, it's already on the front pages in Russia.

Mancuso is currently serving a 15-year-sentence on a related Federal conviction in 2003, and faces up to 140 years on the state charges in Pennsylvania.

Unlike the other children remembered in this blog, a very brave 12-year-old girl thankfully has another shot at salvaging a happy childhood in American hands.

Sentencing is scheduled for November. If you're so inclined, consider writing the Judge encouraging imposition of the maximum sentence to reinforce the message that America does not tolerate child abuse.

Hon. Donna Jo McDaniel
Court of Common Pleas
323 Courthouse
Pittsburgh, PA 15233

Re: Sentencing of Matthew Mancuso

Things could always be worse

2005-08-10T16:41:00.000-04:00

Consider those trying to adopt from the former Soviet republic of Belarus. Program closed. The dreams of 118 U.S. families shattered.

Putting things in perspective, we're in a good place.

Blogger's Note: The original New York Newsday story cited in this entry is no longer available online.

Home-Schooling: Recipe for Disaster?

2005-08-08T20:02:00.000-04:00

Sometimes when I read a news story or see it on the air, I'll take a guess at some of the details that aren't in the initial report. How could an eight-year-old child be allowed to be starved to death without anybody outside the family noticing? Surely a neighbor or teacher must have seen the signs.

My first instincts after reading the original Baltimore Sun story were that:

The family lived on a rural farm-type property, with no neighbors close by.
The family home-schools its children. No teachers to interfere.

So, without further ado:

From the Maryland Department of Assessments and Taxation, here's the Merryman spread: 6+ acres, agricultural zoning. And, check out the cool Google map satellite view option. You won't find Gladys Kravitz in the backyard here.
Third paragraph of a Moscow Times followup*: Dennis Merryman was the youngest of seven children they were raising and home-schooling.

I'm not a fan of home-schooling and I'll be the first to admit that I don't fully understand the concept. But even with this limited knowledge base, I can go out on a limb and say that there is no way that a home-schooled kid's opportunities for socialization can compare with their conventionally-educated peers. A guy's best shot at a date for the Home School Senior Prom rests with his mom or sister. (Now that I think about it, that was my best shot too. Unfortunately, I was attending John F. Kennedy High School at the time.)

The closest I can relate to home-schooling is telecommuting, which I do occasionally. When I telecommute, I'm connected enough to others in the office that they know I'm alive and not in trouble, and not out on the golf course when I should be working. Home-schooling, on the surface at least, seems like telecommuting with little or no accountability to the office.

In the hands of irresponsible parents, a home-schooled child can simply be hidden from society, as Dennis had to have been as he wasted away. Our public school teachers are often the first to notice signs of child abuse or neglect. If Dennis had a place--say, a public school--to check in with on even an occasional basis, surely he would be alive today.

*Blogger's Note: The original Baltimore Sun story initially cited in this entry is no longer available online.

Once again, front page news

2005-08-08T19:47:00.000-04:00

Here's Pravda's take on the latest child abuse/neglect case out of Maryland. Maybe the objectivity lost a little something in the translation.

American abuse/neglect of adopted Russian children is still huge news in the Russian media. Dennis Merryman was the second item on the national newscasts this past weekend, just behind the dramatic submarine rescue.

More unfortunate news...close to home

2005-08-03T20:00:00.000-04:00

Dennis Merryman, age 8, becomes yet another apparent case* of a Russian adoptee's tragic, preventable end here in the States (specifically, my own--Maryland). Not only does this call into question our ability to care for the children we adopt, it also says something for our legal system--six months to bring charges?

*Blogger's Note: The original Baltimore Sun story initially cited in this entry is no longer available online.

Blogging NEVER takes a vacation...

2005-07-27T10:40:00.000-04:00

Not when you get a new pic from Yekaterinburg.

V-A-C-A-T-I-O-N...in the summertime...

2005-07-26T17:15:00.000-04:00

You don't have to be a judge overseeing adoptions in Yekaterinburg to enjoy a refreshing vacation. Judge Tatyana's month-long respite gives us the chance to plan our own little summer getaways. We'll be back next week. The key is under the mat.

Send fashion help, quick!

2005-07-20T07:15:00.000-04:00

Call me crazy, but somehow I think Elena's first impression of America will be the Nordstrom at Dulles Town Center. Her visa may not be ready, but the Amex is.

Another new pic from Ekaterinburg. Thanks, Alice!

Voices in the Dark

2005-07-18T08:07:00.000-04:00

I couldn't sleep in the wee small hours Saturday night into Sunday morning; frankly, I don't know why. I looked at the alarm clock and saw it was 3:35. Suddenly, the phone rang. I answered the call with the same exuberance I would in the middle of the day on the first ring, even before Caller ID could identify its origin.

"Hi, it's Debbie!" Our agency director has been in Russia on business for the past week and is now in Ekaterinburg in an effort to stir the pot. "I'm here looking at Elena right now. Your daughter is beautiful."

Debbie puts Dr. Irina, one of the orphanage directors, on the call. "She is very clever girl, very byoo-tee-full," we are told in a voice recalling Natasha from the old Rocky & Bullwinkle cartoons.

With Elena on her lap, "Aunt Debbie" tells her (with the help of a translator) that "I know who your Mama and Papa are," and that we will be there to bring her home...soon. Elena understands, but only to the extent that a 2-1/2 year old with no concept of a Mama, Papa or home can.

How soon? Judge Tatiana will be on vacation the entire month of August; priority for court dates before she leaves are now for older children, in an effort to get them out of a system that has told them about the horrible things American parents do to their adopted children. So, Mama and Papa will be waiting until at least September to get a place on her docket.

The straw that broke the camel's back?

2005-07-12T06:08:00.000-04:00

(Peggy Sue and daughter Nina Hilt in happier times, before Nina was beaten to death at her mother's hand. )

As anticipated, the death of Nina Hilt, buried deep in the pages of the American newspapers, is major news in Russia, where she is identified by her pre-adoption Russian name, Nina Bazhenova.

Even before this latest tragedy, we learned that word had been spread to older children in some of the orphanages that American parents kill their adopted children.

Frankly, they're right. For each of the dozen Russian orphans adopted into American families who've lost their lives at the hands of an unfit parent, there are only 4,500 still alive. The deaths of children like Nina Hilt, Alex Pavlis, Liam Thompson and Viktor Matthey can no longer be dismissed as statistical anomalies.

As waiting adoptive parents, we have no choice but to roll with the changes and delays in the adoption process we've seen and will undoubtedly continue to see, thanks to trailblazers like Peggy Sue Hilt, Irma Pavlis, Gary & Amy Thompson and Bob & Brenda Matthey...all of whom violated the ultimate trust bestowed upon them by the Russian people.

The longer we wait, the harder the wait becomes, and not just emotionally. Adopting a child from Russia is now the equivalent of a part-time job in dealing with additional paperwork requirements. And where most part-time jobs would provide financial resources in exchange for giving up time better spent with the child we already have, this one does just the opposite.

The possibility of a summer return to pick up Elena is now looking very slim. Another autumn visit to Ekaterinburg? We can only pray.

Today's Post, Tomorrow's Pravda

2005-07-08T17:56:00.000-04:00

On the heels of the Irma Pavlis sentencing, you're now looking at Peggy Sue Hilt, the new poster child for Russian adoption reform...another prime reason why Americans are unfit to adopt Russian children.

I didn't even get past the first paragraph of this story when I first read it, thereby missing the phrase that should have jumped right out at me.

Buried in the second paragraph, from the second page of the local news: "adopted Russian child."

God help us all.

A mom waits...

2005-07-06T21:24:00.000-04:00

...on Elena's Pottery Barn rug!

Good news...well, sort of...

2005-06-21T12:33:00.000-04:00

Portions of our dossier are being rejected and need to be redone. Why is this good news? Well, it indicates that the judge is actually reviewing it! *Woohoo!*

Russian adoption moves to the front page...

2005-06-19T20:51:00.000-04:00

of today's Washington Post. A nice summary for the masses. Not to mention a lot less explaining we have to do to our loyal Post-reading friends and families as to why this process is taking so long.

To me, the one surprise from the article is just how supportive President Putin is of foreign adoption. As prospective adoptive parents, it's nice to know that having room in our hearts and home for a Russian orphan--along with unlimited patience for the "legally impeccable" process involved in bringing one home--will eventually lead to Elena's successful adoption.

Apparently, becoming head of state and first lady of a neighboring country wouldn't hurt any, either.

A room waits...

2005-06-08T00:37:00.000-04:00

Jews can be annoyingly superstitious in nature when it comes to upcoming blessed events. Some won't announce a pregnancy until their closest of friends notices a strange puddle of water on the floor. Baby showers are out of the question. And the baby's furniture is never, ever delivered before the baby itself.

With that in mind, we had no intention of accepting the furniture for Elena's room until we had our plane tickets firmly in hand for our return trip to Russia. However, two factors weighed heavily in our decision to take delivery:

"Strong encouragement" from the furniture retailer, who's not used to holding ordered furniture in their warehouse for over seven months;
Requests to include a photo of Elena's room in our dossier for the judge to review.

You can't see them in the picture, but Elena's first impression of what makes America great may be the 400-threadcount sheets on the bed, her first practical gift from her Dad. (See cousin Rich's post about the importance of threadcount.) Mom continues to contribute her design skills and handpainted accessories for the finishing touches. Brother Jesse has gladly given up the books and DVDs he considers to be either too "babyish" or "girly" for his own collection.

The room is ready. The family is ready. Elena is ready. The numerous girlfriends who'll be sleeping over in the trundle are ready.

Bring her home.

When it absolutely, positively has to be there...whenever....

2005-06-06T08:12:00.000-04:00

Follow the FedEx delivery of our documents here! Go! Go! Go!

Paperwork done...well, sort of...

2005-06-02T16:21:00.000-04:00

The dozens of documents we've collected are now completed, notarized, county-sealed, and apostilled by the appropriate Secretaries of State. They now comprise our dossier. Our dossier should arrive in Russia by the middle of next week, get translated, and placed before the judge within a few weeks.

When this is put before the judge, one of three things will happen:

The judge will say everything appears to be in order, and give us a court date to finalize our adoption and bring Elena home.
The judge will reject the entire dossier, often for incredibly nit-picky reasons such as placement of the notary's seal, inclusion of a middle initial on one document and not on another, etc.
The judge will overlook one or two little things and review the dossier, accepting an "IOU" for better paperwork.

We are expecting our paperwork to draw Scenario #3; our agency felt it would be better to get our paperwork in quickly even though we are aware of at least one thing the judge will question. Or maybe we'll get lucky and the judge won't notice.

Yeah, right.

Springtime in Ekaterinburg

2005-05-31T10:49:00.000-04:00

New Picture, May 2005

Special thanks to Jennifer in California, new mom of Maxim (left) for capturing these candid moments! Welcome home!

2005-05-31T10:48:00.000-04:00

Another new picture!

2005-05-31T10:45:00.000-04:00

And another new picture!

Hopeful...

2005-05-30T08:31:00.000-04:00

We are standing point-blank over the moving target of paperwork and requirements and hope to have our "stuff" completed sometime this week, translated and submitted to Russia over the next few weeks.

Why is this important? "The system" in Russia takes a break through much of the summer. Apparently it's not an official recess, it's just that the civil servants simply stop showing up for work. If we can get in quickly, we might get a court date quickly and return to finalize the adoption before summer fever grips Ekaterinburg. Otherwise, it's looking like the Fall.

It's all speculation to know what's going on in the minds of a foreign government 5,000 miles away and thinking we might be among a handful given a court date out of hundreds of waiting American families. But we remain hopeful. Stay tuned.

Doctor, Doctor, (Doctor, Doctor, Doctor, Doctor, Doctor, Doctor,) Give Me The News...

2005-05-07T17:51:00.000-04:00

One of the nice perks to waiting and trying to keep up with rules that change at the drop of a hat--all the nice doctors we'll now have to meet in order to to prove that we're healthy prospective adoptive parents and aren't carrying any of the following maladies:

Tuberculosis, active and chronic, of any form of localization in patients of the Groups I, II and V of the dispensary register.
The illnesses of the internal organs, nervous system or motor system at the stage of decompensation.
Malignant oncological illnesses of any localization.
Alcoholism, drug and substance abuse
Infectious diseases, until the patient is taken off the dispensary register
Mental health problems resulting in partial or complete legal incapacity
Any illness or trauma resulting in any number of disabilities excluding employment

With that in mind, we'll be meeting the following specialists:

Our primary care physician
Psychiatrist
Infectious disease/STDs (that's sexually-transmitted disease, folks)
Dermatologist
Phthisiatrician (I tried Googling this one, looks like the closest one is in Sweden--this is the guy that tells us we don't have TB).
Neuropathologist
Oncologist
Narcologist

The fun continues...

12 years...

2005-05-04T15:04:00.000-04:00

Hot off the wire from suburban Chicago...Irma Pavlis received a twelve year sentence for the involuntary manslaughter conviction of her adopted son. Thanks for your letters to Judge Fecarotta (acknowledged in the news report).

Your next homework assignment: Please look for coverage of this story in your local paper. A letter to the editor applauding the sentencing may be helpful to communicate that the American people care about our children.