Six-Days-Before-Christmas Update

I still haven't found my proper, comfortable indoor shoes.  I know I packed them somewhere obvious at the very end, but they have not emerged.  It gives me joint pain to walk on tile floors with bare feet, not to mention then it's cold and you can feel all the dirt, so this is a big deal.  However, perhaps we are on the upwards side of the moving pain, because I did cook a proper dinner tonight, with boiling pots and everything.

✪ Apparently the children agreed that Emerson was on duty last night.  He is not nearly as dedicated as the girls are to finding little things that bother him multiple times a night, but when he does decide that something is wrong, he engages said dedication to making sure it is really wrong and I miss a nice big block of sleep.  Last night something bothered him on the skin around his eyes, and it really hurt.  We probably spent an hour in the wee 'smas trying to clean whatever it was off of him.

✪ The toys were all in such disaster when I packed them up, that it made me feel like never giving the children any more toys to play with, just letting them mess around with sticks and plastic cups and things like that, if they can't take care of their nice things.  Except Emerson's legos; Emerson has been taking meticulous care of his legos.  But I underestimated him: he also very carefully packed his special "no-sharing" basket, and he did better than I did insofar that he remembered exactly where it was, and he has unpacked it to play with his favorite toys.  Obviously, this creates a big problem because the girls don't know what they like or where it is and it's all mixed up anyways, so all they see is Emerson's no-sharing toys.  I'll let you imagine the ensuing "conversations."  Meanwhile, Hibiscus left some toys outside, drops others on the floor and doesn't even bother to not step on them, and was chewing on something else until it was un-fixable.  Obviously, my first instinct that all the children were not taking care of their toys was incorrect, and Emerson is actually quite meticulous for his age.  On the other hand, Hibiscus is actively destroying everything destroyable.  Buttercup is kind of like a three-year-old, more or less.  I am debating the parental validity of taking toys away from only one child.

✪ My original idea was that the cat would be mostly an outdoor cat, and he (or she) could come in and play when the children were around.  However, I forgot to take into account how when you move, it is not reasonable to put a cat out into the yard and hope that he won't happen to wander away looking for home and just disappear.  So I kept him inside until he had gotten some meals and some snuggles.  Needless to say, he quickly and completely became an indoor cat!

After a little while, I started to become concerned about the littler box situation, or rather, the non-litter-box situation.  We don't have one, and I don't intend on getting one, partly because this is supposed to be an outdoor cat, and partly because I doubt he would know what to do with one if he bumped into it in the night.  So where is he doing his business?  I can smell a little smell, if you know what I mean...

It turns out that the answer is: down the drains.  Almost all bathroom in Uganda, like most of Africa and Asia, have a drain in the floor.  The cat is going on top of the drain, and neatly scraping the tile floor to "dig" himself a little hole.  I have seen the footprints, and watched him in action.  It is really incredibly clever, and he could not have possibly found a better potty-ing solution.  Unfortunately, he is more clever than the engineers and construction workers who actually made the drains.  Which should be at the BOTTOM of the bathroom, and are not.  When I go to dump a little water down to flush them out, the water sits around the level floor of the upstairs bathroom.  Downstairs, it actually floods out into the hallway.  It's the little things that can drive you crazy!

✪ Our highly-recommended potential maid has quit before she has even begun.  I guess I should start asking around to see who else is highly recommended, unlike the last horror story I heard, of a maid "jumping" while she was watching the children, including a 9-month-old baby.  (Meaning she just up and left.)  Meanwhile, I am feeling extremely resentful about the probability of doing my own dishes.

Which is a little silly, but if you've got to live in a third-world country and drive on roads with river beds down the middle, and spend three days getting the obvious appliances in your new apartment to materialize; then you might as well have someone to wash your stupid dishes.

✪ I suppose we are actually making some logistical progress.  I find myself starting to get excited, like we're actually getting somewhere, and then remember feeling that way when we got all our paperwork submitted.  Which was almost four months ago.  Or when we were actually assigned a court date.  Two months ago.  Or when we woke up in the morning and it actually WAS the court date.  Exactly a month ago.  And you notice that right now we are moving into a new apartment, which is in Kampala, so none of those dates got us any closer to America whatsoever.  So I think "NOW the series of predictable paperwork events is actually starting!" and then I think to myself "shut up, being excited, and go clean the cat poo out of the drain."

So at this point, we have the verbal confirmation that we have guardianship of the girls, and then the lawyer got the actual written and sealed ruling, and this morning we had our appointment at the passport "office," and then we went and picked up the ruling, the irrevocable consents from the birth parents, and about four inches of paperwork to hand to the Embassy.  This officially means that Uganda considers us the only and forever parents, but since they already considered us the complete parents for three years, and America has yet to acknowledge that we have the right to parent these children, it does not actually make much difference in our actual lives.  Once we get the passports, we can have the medical appointments, and once we have that we can ask for our first interview with the Embassy for American visas, at which point we learn how long we have to wait for our real interview.

The passport non-office was interesting.  We walked through security into a compound with various drab concrete buildings in a square around the edges, but all the action was under a bunch of tents in the middle.  Several tables were set up at the front, with various government workers, and other people filing back and forth putting folders in front of someone or arranging them on another desk.  Then a great many benches were set up faces the desk areas, like a church congregation, except you couldn't actually see what happened at the front, and it didn't seem to matter.  We had an 8:30 appointment and probably arrived around 8:40, and sat down right next to another family.  I was attracted by the American-looking mother with the African children.  My children were attracted by the games she had out, and immediately joined right in.  It turns out that we had actually had court on the same day as well, so had slightly met each other before.  It was nice to spend the couple hours of waiting time with someone to talk with, and something new for the children to do.  Because of course there were a couple hours of waiting time!  We had also met a representative of our lawyer's office, who told us what to do.  After a while, she drifted by and informed us that someone had said our paperwork was "very fine."  Somewhat later, she told us to be ready, and I told the children to put their backpacks on, and she kind of laughed and didn't actually mean THAT ready.

Eventually, we went up to the desks for our "interview."  The man flipped through the other family's file, specifically looked for a couple of papers which the lawyer's representative showed him, and stamped his stamp on just about every page.  Then he sent that family to another desk, and looked through our file.  The only question he has was why the file only had Hibiscus's name on it if there were two girls, and the lawyer's assistant mumbled something that they had submitted two files but it wasn't allowed, and he asked again and she wrote Buttercup's name underneath the first name.  And he stamp, stamp, stamped.  That was the entire "interview."  He didn't even ask to see my passport, although there was a copy in the file, but he did look at us, so it was possible that he was confirming that we were who we were supposed to be.

Today is Thursday, and the passport people won't be at work next week.  So possibly, with a great deal of prayer (says our lawyer), the passports will be ready before the vacation.  But probably not.  So we are on the wheel of possibly-predictable productive paperwork, but there is a giant roadblock right in front of us, by the name of Christmas Vacation.


Meanwhile, there are way too many mosquitos in our new house.  I am not sure where they all come from, but apparently I've got another month or so of them!

Random Thoughts About Another Month or So

It is those miserable aunties, and the unspeakably miserable thief who drove us out of our home.  We could have made it home with normal administrative tangles, if we didn't have meanness tangles getting in our way.

Our original court date was the day after the main judge, who seems to be hearing almost all of the cases, came back from her leave.  At that point, her paperwork wouldn't have been backed up yet and she probably would have gotten the ruling out close to the original estimate of a week.  By the time our court finished up almost two weeks later, her estimation was a written ruling 2-3 weeks out.  Someone had their court date this morning, and their ruling was estimated for January 20th -- almost six weeks out.  I think it would have been under two weeks if we had been earlier.

Because there hadn't been any judges hearing cases in early November, the Embassy wouldn't have been backed up.  They said that 90% of families complete their paperwork with them within a week, but December and summer are the worst times for waiting.

We just need photo ID's for the girls to get the medical appointments.  The Embassy lady said that in 99% of the cases this meant the passports, but since we were foster parents we might have some other sort of ID which would work just as well.  Then we could do the passports and the IOM paperwork concurrently, both of take about a week.  Our Local Council in Ggaba was really into issuing ID's, and when we first talked with them about a letter of recommendation they needed to make ID's for Emerson and I before anything else.  I am just kicking myself that I never went back and asked them to make ID's for the girls, which they suggested but I didn't have foster care at the time.  And I had never heard about photo ID's for the medical appointment before this.  I can go work on getting ID's through our new district, but it will be more complicated than just getting them from the same place where we got ours.  (On a side note, my photo ID for my Ggaba residence has come in handy many times.  Emerson's, not as much, but it's cute.)

So basically, if our court date had finished when it started instead of being interrupted by crazy aunties, and I still lived where I knew people and was connected to the important people, it sounds like it actually was a very realistic estimate for getting home.

That's what really bugs me.  I get that the judges have a huge case load and are doing their best.  I get that the Embassy people have to jump through a lot of hoops.  I think that, really, most of the officials whom we have met so far have been doing their best under non-ideal circumstances.  But I am really peeved that we are held up by a few random people being just plain malicious.


So, now here is my to-do list.  I have to find a new place to live.  It looks like it will be a month or so, thus looking into another apartment and not just hotel or something.  I think we have to move out Monday or Tuesday or something (it's Tuesday night now).  I also have to figure out about getting the girls some photo ID, either by finding the LC officials for this district, or by going to the LC for their original district (the one who testified at court for us) and ask for his advice.  Of course, if I meet with the LC's of this district, then that will mean I need to find another apartment in the same district.  I want to be in the same area, but the LC districts are quite small.

I need to plan a trip out of the country so that Emerson and I can get new Ugandan visas.  They last till the end of the month, but it might make sense to plan something immediately.  Another adoptive father whom I have been in touch with offered to stay with the girls so I could make a quick trip with Emerson.  Emotionally, it will be awful for the girls for me to leave them.  But logistically, traveling to a DIFFERENT African country with three small children is....  It is insane.  It really is.  I have been known to do things that are insane before (like this entire thing!) but I do try and err on the side of when the benefits outweigh the potential disasters.  Leaving the girls with an experienced American parent seems like a pretty reasonable thing to do, and thus means that I need to get my trip figured out and completed before he has to go home for Christmas.  Because he actually has plans to leave, unlike some (insane) people that we could mention.

And as for Christmas?  Everyone keeps asking about Christmas or wanting to get home for Christmas or something.  I love the Christmas season, but this is not it.  I have kind of gotten over Christmas for this year.  Maybe this goes back to the Enneagram... we 9's like smooth sailing.  I like fun things too, but our ship has been flying under a hard wind and all that matters to me is keeping on an even tack.  I am not concerned about a holiday detour.  I think some people would prefer the distraction and something to look forward to, but to me it is really not worth the energy I would have to put out.

The kids probably do not feel exactly as I do.  They are having a big-deal Christmas production at school, and they've been rehearsing dances and songs and poems and a pageant and everything. The performance is Sunday.  That can be their big Christmas contemplation.  I think I can probably manage a coffeecake on Christmas morning or something, and probably someone will send us a gift.  Beyond that, we'll see.  Luckily, the girls don't know what to expect anyways, and I think the tropical weather has distracted Emerson as much as it has for me, and he hasn't even mentioned a tree or anything.  Hopefully all our other traditions can float by just as easily.  The one thing Emerson IS actually focused on is his birthday, although he seems to have forgotten that we usually celebrate it in January.  I can make a cake, and work on sweet-talking my way out of a Ugandan kid-party.  Probably two cakes will do it.

Unfortunately, the school calendar is not going to forget about the holiday, and the kids have two weeks off.  That's the one hassle that seems overwhelming right now.  I could keep on keeping on, but my two lively, wild, and now bored kids might sink the boat.  Well, we won't sink, but we could get pretty soggy and have to turn on the big water pump, which probably is angry-mama-voice.  We will have to figure out something to do over the break, which is hard because not only is there not much to do, it is crazy to just leave the house with all three children unless I can contain them in a car.  And we are NOT hiring the car every day.  There's not enough places to go in the car, anyways.  Mostly shopping, which is also a nightmare with all three kids.

Speaking of which, I should find a babysitter, so I can go out and procure food.  That would help my sanity, although the kids are so terrified of being left, I might decide that my sanity is better off finding someone to send grocery shopping.

Anyways, one thing at a time.  This morning I thought I got a lot done, but clearly it was somewhere between treading water and just swimming down the wrong stream.  Also, my laundry is piling up, although some of it is actually clean and dry.  And I gave the girls luke-warm cocoa in their sippy cups this morning, although I let Emerson have it straight up.

So basically, I could make it another month.  It's been many months; what's one more?  And I am not upset about missing a proper Christmas... at least not nearly as upset about other things.  Like my dogs.  I could really use some dogs tonight.  I am upset about:
- a trip to Kenya or Rwanda or some crazy place like that
- moving
- school vacation
- looking for a new apartment
- having to move into that new apartment

Which is what I have to start tomorrow.

Home for Christmas?

The internet has been down on this entire side of town for about four days now.  Occasionally I've gotten flickers of life, but not enough to work with.  Wonder of wonders, this morning when I tried to load Facebook, it came on!  And there were emails!  And everything!

Needless to say, then I spent the entire morning dealing with a backlog of things on the internet, from important emails (from the Senator's office) to checking out reports of Cyber Monday sales.  Several people had written me long emails or messages about how they are doing in their own lives, or responding to my blog posts, which are my absolute favorite thing to read.  I even forgot about how grumpy I was!  All this while making tea and going potty and suggesting that a full-size little girl not sit on top of a toy car, and all kinds of things like that, of course.  Finally, I realized that Buttercup desperately needed a nap, and then the kids would come home, and I hadn't done anything else all day long.

But you know the worst part?  I didn't feel panicked about everything that I hadn't gotten done, or worry about rescheduling my whole week.  Do you know what jumped into my mind?  "Yay, that means I'll have something left to do tomorrow!"  I did sweep the floor with Buttercup napping on my back, though, and I made a call and now I'm writing blog posts.  That's pretty productive in Three-children-and-me-Uganda Land.



It's time to go home.  It really is.  There is Advent happening at home, which is my favorite season of the year.  I've debated what to do for Advent here, and decided to ignore it.  Because first of all, it feels too exhausting.  And I think it would just make me miss home even more.  And also, I don't have any fun activities or presents or books or anything to pass out on the different days, not to mention an Advent calendar or wreath or anything like that.  I thought about coming up with Bible verses to read on the different days, but decided that my children are too chaotic for Bible verses that don't come with illustrations and yes-or-no questions, which is pretty much all of them.  Hibiscus told me her version of Adam and Eve, which is about as straightforward as they come, and it made me want to hide my head under a pillow and turn over her entire religious instruction to someone else.  Her abstract theology is even worse.

Anyway, back to Advent.  One of the elements that I find the most powerful is the image of darkness into light, and how Advent leads us to the Solstice, and by Epiphany we are seeing more light in our days, like Christ is the Light of the World.  It kind of doesn't work when there are no seasons.  I'm sure that people in tropical countries come up with other ways to make theology real in their lives (after all, God made the tropics, too) but again, that feels like too much trouble.  I do not plan on spending Advent in the tropics, ever again.  Give me my sweaters and my dark candlelit nights, and dreary weather warmed by good company.



Will we be home by Christmas?  That is the question.  Either we will get our paperwork finished in the next couple weeks, or all the offices will close and I will plan on mid-January.   The judge might take pity on our visa problem and get the guardianship orders written up this week or early next week, in which case we could probably make it home in December.  That's possible enough that I'm not making concrete plans for staying.  If it takes her closer to her original estimate of the 19th, everything else is not going to happen in time.  I'm resigning myself to that, but not yet making plans.  Although I did just buy another 5-kilo bag of rice, which should last us to January.  People who adopted through this program last year are encouraging that officials will hurry our paperwork through so we can be home for the holidays, but most of the officials have changed in the last year, and the whole system is backed up for months' worth of cases and I have a feeling that MY family Christmas is not of very high priority with them.

We have to get guardianship papers from the judge.  Then we can apply for Ugandan passports, which apparently usually gets done within a few days... unless they decide to all go to their kids' Christmas play or something like that, which would probably take at least three days, this being Uganda and all.  Then we need a US visa, which we could get in one appointment.  But they only have appointments on Monday and Wednesday, so if we got our passports issued on Wednesday we would be delayed for a week in the best-case scenario.  And since everything has been backed up for months, all the appointments at the Embassy might be filled anyways.  Or we might need a second hearing, like we needed a second one for the Uganda side.  Then after all that, we will need plane tickets.  Ordinarily, that would be as simple as changing the date, but in late December, who knows if four tickets will be available?

Meanwhile, I'm filling my days with exciting things.  Like sweeping the floor.

Court Date, Take 2

As we filed into the courtroom this afternoon, we passed another adoptive family on their way out.  Apparently not aware that we make a habit of hanging out in Family Court, on his way past the father murmured to me, "don't worry, she's nice."  I thought that well, some people must have a more straightforward situation than ours, because "nice" would have been about the last word that would pop into my mind to describe our last encounter with this judge!

Today our court session went more or less like one would imagine it should have gone the first time.  There was no interrogation session of the mother, as she swayed vaguely with either drunkenness or pain, and gave increasingly confusing and conflicted answers while staring off somewhere in the middle distance.  The probation officer had his ID card and his report written up, and the judge only asked if he had done one thing that he hadn't actually completed, instead of him standing there with his head hanging like a naughty schoolboy.  The judge did not need to demand multiple times "I am looking for the truth -- the TRUTH -- and I expect to hear it."  Nor did she repeat "you can tell I am already not happy about this situation."  And most importantly of all, the courtroom was not invaded with extra people who weren't on the lawyers' lists, saying such inflammatory things that they inspired almost everyone else in the room to stand up and start shouting.

In fact, this time the judge actually smiled.  Multiple times, especially at the children doing funny little child-like things.  Buttercup was sitting on my lap, and when I gave her one of her favorite song books, she started cheerfully singing about five little ducks in her piercing little chirping voice. I don't imagine that the judge gets serenaded very often!

This time our group was much smaller.  Miss B from the Babies' Home arrived with one aunt and a grandmother, who were the ones who have been somewhat involved in the children's welfare from the beginning.  The only hitch was that the father had gone to the clinic in the morning and then they couldn't find him there, but he made his way to the courthouse on his own and showed up a while after everyone else.  We came with our five-person family, and the children's teacher, Derrek.  The Probation Officer arrived on his own, and the lawyer had gotten a copy of his report earlier in the day.  Along with our lawyer and her assistant, that was our entire group.  The birth mother was not there, nor were a number of other relatives, nor the Local Council Official.  The disturbing aunties did not even bother to show up to clarify their position.

The judge started off my taking Mark's and my testimony.  It was a little confusing giving it, because we didn't know how much she was going to ask.  Afterwords, I was a little frustrated that I hadn't even gotten into talking about one whole area, because I hadn't realized that she was finished with me.  She started by asking Mark some logistical questions about his income and whether I had pressured him into agreeing to this adoption, and then she was pretty much done with him.  She didn't ask him anything about the girls or his relationship with them, although I'm sure she noticed that they spent most of the (very long) hearing vying for position on his lap.

The judge asked me why I wanted more children when I already had one and might have more.  With hindsight, I guess this is kind of the basic question of "why did you choose to adopt?" but the wording kind of threw me, and I was just thinking that it was an awfully strange question in a country with a birthrate of seven children per mother!  Why would I NOT want three instead of one?  She asked me some details about my stay here, and then I had said something about learning about them in the last few months, and she asked me what I had learned.  I spoke about their personalities shining through, and then described how passive and withdrawn Buttercup had been at the beginning, and the long slow process of her starting to trust me, and how lively she was now.  I mentioned that Hibiscus had opened up and told me stories about her former life, and the judge asked "like what."  I had written up a document of all her stories, and I felt a little hesitant to go into them in front of Hibiscus and her father right there, but I just dived in and gave an overview.  I mentioned something about giving the children beer, even baby Buttercup, and Buttercup was sitting on my lap and she suddenly piped up and said "me no likey giving baby Buttercup be-eer."  I repeated this for the judge, and Buttercup repeated it too, and everyone smiled.  (Maybe not the father; he was sitting behind me and I was not trying to meet his eyes at that point anyways!)  But then the judge moved on to asking the teacher about Hibiscus's progress, and I never got around to talking about Hibiscus's difficulties and the improvements she has made.

The teacher got to talk about Hibiscus making progress and what was important about her being successful at his school, and was asked whether she could manage in a village school that the relatives could pay for, or in a school in America.  He talked a lot about the importance of love in education, and that their philosophy is education with love, and how much Hibiscus needs love and encouragement in order to thrive.  I think we all understand that most Ugandan schools don't have a lot of love getting thrown around, but he said that he had heard that our American school was quite loving.

Emerson had been inspired by Hibiscus's little written testimony, and wanted to write up a statement of his own.  The judge smiled at the notebook page, and called him up to stand next to her and read it to him.  It created a much calmer and warmer atmosphere to have the children speaking to her while they were next to her at her desk, instead of speaking from the tables in the big room.  Emerson stood up there by himself and read her his whole paper out loud, and then answered a couple of questions, looking very adorable in a British-school-child-like.  He was clearly nervous but made it through everything with his usual charm and aplomb.

Then Hibiscus was supposed to come up and talk about her testimony.  She was shy and embarrassed, and needed me to come with her to "help her with the words."  She didn't manage to say much at all, but she buried her head in my tummy a lot, and whispered that I was her mommy and she wanted to go America, which I think got her central point across!

Buttercup said to me that she didn't want to go up, and the judge didn't expect her to.  But in the middle of something else, while chairs were being moved around or someone else was talking, she remembered her little speech, and suddenly waved her hands around pointing as she said "dis one my mama, dis one my daddy, dis one my brother."  I don't think anyone besides me noticed, though!

The birth father and auntie were called upon to describe the family meeting, which they did in Luganda.  I think there was a letter from the LC1 chairman, who moderated, but the judge wanted it written up in a more official format from the lawyers.


By the end of the afternoon, it seemed like things had gone smoothly and the judge was pretty much intending to write us the guardianship orders.  Which is really really good and sets my heart at ease, although it will be even more at ease when I see them in real life signed and stamped in triplicate!

However, she mentioned that there are a great many cases to go through right now -- unsurprisingly, since court has basically not been moving for six months or so -- and that maybe she would be able to have them written up by December 19th.  It is still November right now.  Not only is that date an awfully long and lonely time away, it obviously scuttles any chances we would have of getting home by the holidays.  No one seems to care where we spend Christmas, but the judge did listen to our concerns about our visas running out.  Mark has a powerful friend through business networks, who has managed to get Emerson and I several extensions on our passports, for a full seven months which is longer than what we could normally get.  But the final one runs out at the end of December, and then we will have to leave the country in order to get new Ugandan visas.

That means me, on a bus to Kenya with three confused and crazy kids.

The judge asked who I had to help out with the children.  I think many well-to-do Ugandans keep housekeepers or nannies, but we don't.  It's just me, alone.  My husband leaves tomorrow and I'm going to be a-looooone again!!!  I think I managed to not start wailing in the middle of Family Court!

The judge said she would try to write out her report sooner, but she needs to have a few more papers and be able to look over things thoroughly.  And we all thanked her and left.



So tonight, I feel fairly confident that we can talk about Buttercup and Hibiscus's future life in America -- which luckily they never quite figured out was in doubt for a while.  We can hope and pray for the guardianship papers to come out quickly.  After we have those, we can apply to the Ugandan passport office to get passports for the girls... if they're not closed for the holidays already.  After we have passports, we can apply for American visas... if by that point THEY are not closed for the holidays!  So maybe, possibly, barely, we will make it home to be a family of five in 2013.

Or maybe not.  But one of these days, I think we will be.

Court Date Tomorrow, Part 2

Hopefully it will go more smoothly! I want to make my girls some promises when I kiss away their fears at night.

****the next morning****

This time, our court time is mid-afternoon, so we get to have a quiet morning at home to prepare. Or at least, that's the idea. We decided not to send the kids to school, because school is really pretty exhausting and we didn't want them to feel exhausted on top of everything else. Thus again, the supposed quiet morning at home.

What do we really have?

We had a sweet moment at 6:45 when Buttercup came into our bedroom with a little hopeful smile on her face, and quietly snuggled in between her parents for a while... instead of what she usually does, which is to play increasingly vigorously until she wakes everyone else up. Hibiscus slept a whole half hour further and woke up naturally, instead of getting poked by her little sister, which I would think would improve her feelings for the day.

Then we had giant meltdowns from Emerson. He saw markers (which were hidden away at the old house, but somehow visible here) and wanted to color with them. He whined and whined at me until I told him the discussion was over and ignored him, which made him mad. He thought Hibiscus was getting too much Daddy-time and he wanted his Daddy-time RIGHT NOW THIS SECOND. (With markers, of course.)  Then he didn't want to get dressed.  Then Hibiscus was very being very helpful -- if somewhat over-enthusiastic -- in getting breakfast ready with me, and Emerson wanted to do the exact job she was doing and not the job he was supposed to do.  Then he had to spend a while having a Sit in the bedroom, which involved a lot of screaming.  We made it through breakfast with a very nice Skype call from an auntie back home.  After breakfast, more screaming.  They didn't want to get dressed.  Hibiscus wanted to wear socks outside.  They disagreed about how to play Chutes and Ladders.  The plan is that the kids will play outside and get their wiggles out and free time in, while Daddy and I do the boring things, but the kids did not want to go outside.  They're tired, it's too hot, it's too boring, there's nothing to do, they don't like playing.  Really?  You don't like PLAYING?  Good grief.

It's probably nerves about the court date, or general unsettledness about being off our routine.  But it is not making for a peaceful morning at home.

Meanwhile, I've made some calls, written up our Family Sit Policy, organized clothes, and made lists.  Time to get packing.



The kids keep talking about what is going to happen next: Going to the zoo tomorrow.  Spending next Thanksgiving with Gramcy.  Going on the airplane.  Going to Waldorf School.  Playing with the dogs, Doney and Monaghan.  Taking swimming lessons at the Y.  Getting new pretty dresses (because both girls have grown an entire size in the last few months, and are bursting out of their clothes).

Oh, how I pray our "next" is coming.  And I pray we're taking the first step towards "next" today.

Hibiscus's Testimony

Today I will step into Hibiscus's shoes for a little while.  I have been thinking about her stories in order to prepare her for facing the court again in a few days.  Several of our allies have pointed out that it is Children's Court, and the most important voice is that of the children, and therefore how important it is for the children to find their voice and say what is important to them.  Hibiscus is terrified of having to say something in court again.  I think partly the judge's interrogatory manner confused her (she says she understands the judge wasn't angry at her, though), and partly she sensed the fear and animosity in the room, and partly it is very upsetting for her to have to say (or even think) negative things about her former life when her birth parents are right in the room with her. 

So to prepare, we have talked about a few simple things that she can say.  And we worked together and wrote up her own testimony.  I helped with the spelling and wrote a few of the words, but the whole page is her own declaration.  It was a very big project for a girl who could hardly write her name a few months ago -- when I was looking through my paperwork I found a letter of recommendation that she had doodled on the back while suffering through a boring meeting.  Her writing has improved years' worth at American Montessori!  (So has Emerson's, actually.)

We have also been trying to practice something for all three children to say.  Hibiscus is nervous, but can remember a few of the things off her paper.  Emerson wants to say something to the judge, but he isn't sure of what to say.  And Buttercup is happily practicing her lines: "Dis one my daddy.  Dis one my mama."  And she points to each of us in turn.


So here is Hibiscus's written testimony, and here are a few of the stories I collected for a document  I can present with her representation of life in her birth family's home.  I am cautious of her privacy, so I am telling the more benign stories that she tells casually.

Another story is about Buttercup. Both girls are absolutely terrified of dogs and cats, and Hibiscus explains why. This story has also been told several times. Hibiscus acts out the story, and Buttercup participates and seems to agree. "Baby Buttercup was sitting here, like this. (puts Buttercup on a cushion in the middle of the room) The dogs are coming up! Many, many dogs, they are coming to baby Buttercup. (puts toy animals and bowls around in a circle, to demonstrate dogs circling Buttercup on her pillow) They go like this. (she pretends to be a dog and growls at Buttercup) We are very very scared, the dogs, they might kill baby Buttercup, she might even die! We are very scared. Then ---- (name I don't recognize), she come and grab baby Buttercup like this. (lift Buttercup up by the armpits and swoops her away) She run, run, run with Buttercup, and the dogs don't get baby Buttercup." Who was the person? "She, she a friend." Is she a child like you, or a grown-up? "She big, big like this. (lifts hand to indicate very tall)"

About her life in general:
Did you go to school every day? (she is confused) Every day in a row, did you go to school, like you do now, or only sometimes? "Oh, is sometimes. Is not like now, I go every every day now."

I asked once if her mama went away. She was a little confused by the question, and answered: "No, is my daddy who is going away. He go 'way very very long time. He go 'way long times, and is no food to eat. My sister and me, we is very very hungry. My daddy goes 'way and we is very very VERY VEEERY hungry, no food 'till daddy comes back. Is gone and we very hungry."

She is very frightened of bugs and especially rats. It took her weeks to believe that we didn't have any rats in her home, and the rats were not going to come in the night and bite her toes. She talked about this very frequently when she first was living with us. She would search for rats, and jump down to show us the places where the rats bit her toes and her fingers. One time she started talking about the rats biting her fingers, and Buttercup looked and her own fingers and started to cry.

"I 'membering, when it is night-time, dark dark DAAARK night, even the stars are out, our house it is dark, and it is just my sisters and me. Buttercup, and me, we are all alone. Our daddy is not there, our mama is not there. Our mama, she goes walkin' about, that what our daddy say, she walkin' about, she walkin' about for long times, no is home. And our daddy is gone too, house is very very dark." What did you do then? "We cried. We is all crying."

Some Good News

Just a short update with some positive news....

First of all: Look who's here!  

With a second court date and all the delays, Mark decided to cancel some meetings and fly out of his trade show straight to us.  I couldn't believe it until I had my arms around him again!  He arrived late Saturday night and leaves next Saturday night.  I have never been one for ruining time together with worrying about time apart, but this time it is really bothering me.  It feels so natural to have him here and be able to talk with him and do things together, and yet I know our time together is just a brief blip and soon I will be back to all-by-my-lonesome.  So I'm trying hard not to worry about it, but failing!  And I wish I felt livelier and we were doing wonderful things for his time here, but I'm still absolutely exhausted, and there still is not much of anything to do.  Or rather, there's not much to do that fits between the school schedule and the nap schedule and the darn Kampala traffic.  

Yesterday, which was Sunday, we had a mild day and took a walk around our new neighborhood in the afternoon.  Buttercup fell asleep just before we got back, and I laid her down on her bed.  The older kids were supposed to rest, too, but Hibiscus was getting whinier and wilder and stubborn-er.  Before she went totally nuts, Daddy offered to read her books in the other bedroom, and they went in and snuggled under the covers with a big pile of books, and were asleep the next time I checked on them.  Meanwhile, Emerson and I played a little game in the living room.  What an amazing concept -- handling difficult behavior by giving the kids extra positive attention, instead of just helplessly demanding that they do things!  What a difference and extra pair of loving arms makes!

Next the bit of bad news: our second court date, which was scheduled a week from the first on (on Tuesday) has been rescheduled.  For Friday.  So we have to wait longer to have things with the crazy aunties resolved, AND it means all the rest of the paperwork is also pushed back... now almost two full weeks from the original hope.  Now (if everything goes well) it really is a race of hoping that everything will get done before the Christmas holidays start and our visas run out at the end of December.  But worst of all, it's a Friday afternoon date, and if there is any more tiny delay, we will run out of Mark's visit... and the whole point was that he cancelled things and raced over here for the court date.  So that makes me frustrated.

But the family had their meeting that the judge ordered yesterday, and apparently it went..... "well" seems like an awfully positive word to use.  The LC1 Chairman came to mediate.  (The Local Councils are the most immediate form of government in Uganda, and are very important in cases like these.  We have had officials from three different Local Councils involved in this case, and this LC1 gave very important and illuminating testimony at the first hearing.)  I spoke with the lawyer on the phone today and we will meet with her tomorrow.  Phone conversations are always so difficult here -- I can manage to understand one or two words out of three!  But the gist of it seemed to be that the father said he would commit suicide if the aunties did not stop objecting to the adoption, until finally someone or other (aunties themselves? other family members? not sure yet) thought that it was pretty unreasonable that someone would have to commit suicide in order to make his own decision about his own children, so the aunties had no choice but to back down.  Um, well, that's one way to reach family consensus!  

So hopefully we can get to understand what happened a little better tomorrow, speaking with the lawyer directly.  There is also paperwork that the LC1 made up from the meeting, which will be signed (or something like that).  So I think this means that the worst probability of the aunties' case being successful is over, although who knows what will actually happen in court.

Further Thoughts on Courtroom Drama

I meant to unpack the house this morning and write this post in the afternoon, but it's so difficult to do, that somehow I have been writing other things all afternoon instead.  I hope that my readers aren't trying to learn a lot about the process of adoption in Uganda, because although I think about the things that are going wrong all day long, I find it hard to face them front-on enough to write about them.  This time around, every time I lay down to sleep or am waiting for something or do mindless chores, my mind goes straight back to what I want to say to the judges and the disapproving aunties.  I get no rest from it, yet it's strangely hard to actually stop and talk about it.

I wrote about what happened at court on that evening, but here are some more thoughts that have developed with time, both from myself and other people's perspectives.

People keep telling me not to worry, and that the aunties were too late and too insincere and too obviously lying, and that they won't get their way.  Miss B, the orphanage director, says she thinks the judge already has her mind made up.  (She also says she has never yet seen relatives come in to block a case at the eleventh hour like this!)  Diane tells me that anyone in their right mind knows what is best for the girls, and obviously the judge is sensible, so we're going to be okay.  The lawyer, Rebecca, keeps telling me that everything will be all right and not to be worried.  She said it on her own behalf, and said she talked with the jiajia and the auntie who have been supportive all along, and says that they say not to worry as well.

But I can't help but worry.  I see the logic in what they say, and agree that the crazy aunties have a slim chance.  But even a slim chance is too much for my babies.  They came from a house of pain -- of neglect and abuse and fear and hunger and selfishness and uncertainty.  I have held them as the walls of pain start to crack and shudder, and seen the eyes of two little children looking out of their two little prisons, fearful but hopeful of joining the real world.  What if the crazy aunties convince some of the supportive relatives?  What if they manage to come up with a plan that sounds reasonable on the outside?  What if the judge decides that the family's right to the children is stronger than their own childish choice?  What if the judge decides to let them try it out?  What if.... and I can't even write what would happen next.  I can't do it.


If the judge knows what is right for the children and assesses that the aunties are crazy, why would she even give them a week's chance to work out a solution?  Rebecca's theory is that they will make even more trouble another way, which is why she didn't prevent them from coming into court.  I suppose the reasoning, is that if the judge granted the adoption and then the aunties took their version of events to the street or to the press, it could look really bad: "We live in the village, so far away!  We love our nieces so much!  We never knew they were in an orphanage!  We heard they had a sponsor, but we never dreamed they would leave Uganda!  We rushed to the courtroom to save them, and bloodied our poor hands beating down the door, but they wouldn't hear us!  Now the poor girls will never know their culture or their family!  Adoption is evil!"  So instead, the theory goes, the judge gave them enough rope to hang themselves.  She asked the pointed questions -- "how much money did you give the family? how often? would you let them live in your house? then where would they live? would you pay for the school fees?" -- and then told them to go make peace in their family and find a solution.  The theory is that they won't be able to find a solution, and in fact they have very little interest in actually finding a solution, and their argument will deflate.

(Other notes: It seems like they are lying in other ways as well.  In the pre-court hallway-arguments, the aunties told Diane and I that they lived so far away they had no idea what was happening, but they told the judge they lived nearby.  They said they are the girls' father's sisters (i.e. biological aunts), but it seems likely that they are actually more distantly related.  They said they visit their brother every week, which doesn't jive with either the part about being so far away nor the part about having no idea what is going on with the children.  One of them also makes a big deal about being a pastor's wife and thus also a good Christian, which is perhaps more a matter of opinion than an absolute lie...)

African families have never-ending amounts of relatives, but in this case, very few of them have actually been involved in the girls' lives.  Even some of the relatives who have taken an interest in the family and done something on their behalf, the girls don't actually know in person.  All of the relatives whom they have managed to find in three family searches have been very positive about the girls being adopted, and several of them have just-so-happened to bump into us on the streets of Bbunga and thank me passionately.  The relatives have said over and over, in many different ways, in their comments when we meet, in the affidavits the lawyers helped them prepare, in their testimony in court: "we have tried and we have failed.  We have failed the girls utterly.  But we want them to have a good life!"

But what if their resolve is worn down from a week of arguing?  What if the aunties find more uninvolved relatives and dribble poisonous untruths in their ears?  What if they come up with a new plan that sounds reasonable on the surface?

I want to clarify that I absolutely support the rights of the birth family to their children.  The relatives also wanted the child back with our previous match with Rehema, and although we worried that the mother was being pressured, we wouldn't have dreamed of trying to convince her to change her mind.  What is so galling in this case is that the aunties have never taken any interest in the children and don't seem to be planning on taking much interest in them.  Even their logic sounds so selfish!  They say "they will be taken away from Uganda for eighteen years and they won't remember their culture or me."  Remember you?  Seriously?  First of all, they don't have any idea who you are right now, because you have never paid any attention or visited them.  Secondly, how can you possibly imagine that not being remembered is worth taking away everything that they are being offered in a new family?

And what are we offering?  Obviously, on the surface it is a much better life, with plenty of toys and clothes and space in a big van.  In fact, that's kind of ridiculously better, and I kind of cringe at how children are taken so far out of the world they know when they are adopted.  But we offer something much, much more: we have a loving and stable home for them.  Because the way they are now, the girls will never be able to succeed at any type of life -- even just living in the slums of Kampala -- without someone who is willing to spend a lot of time and energy to help them out of the emotional prisons they are in.


The best case scenario would be that the aunties just slink away with their tails between their legs and don't even show up to court next week.  The next best case might be that they are still raving, but everyone else is calm and firm.  But what if there is no "best" at all?  What if they have a plan that sounds reasonable?  I guess I will just have to be ready to argue that the family is in such bad shape there is no way to salvage it, at least in time for these childhoods.  I need to argue it until the judge can't ignore it any longer.  I need to write down all the stories that Hibiscus has told me about the abuse and accidents and pain.  I need to write down all the ways the children were socially incompetent when they arrived here, and how much work is left to do.  Because social incompetence closes all the doors, absolutely all of the last ones that might have had a crack left after the limited education and general poverty have done their share.  So I need to write it all out, because after what I have seen and heard and held in my arms in these last months, I honestly believe to the bottom of my soul there is no way these children can be in this family and be safe or healthy.  So far, people in the courtroom have alluded to the problems, but I have to be ready to face it head-on, and define exactly how ugly it is.  And hopefully not in front of the children themselves, but there might be no choice.

I can't stop planning it in my mind.  I keep running through the horrors Hibiscus has narrated, both dramatically and off-hand, so I don't forget to include anything.  I keep running through what I might need to say, and having to imagine talking about the abuse in front of the abuser and the abused -- and all the people who ignored it.

But so far, I can't bring myself to write it.  But I tell those girls I love them every day.  And for their part, when they see me in pictures or the mirror, they say calmly and confidently "dis one, dis my Mama."

A Week of Unwritten Stories

It is Friday.  Last Tuesday, I figured out that my cleaning lady was the one robbing me blind.  On Wednesday and Thursday, I tried to search for advice, considered moving, and tried to trick Miss S into thinking that I still didn't know her sneakiness.  On Friday, I decided to move, but the one place I looked at wasn't really sure if they would be ready to move into, so I spent the whole day looking at more apartments.  On Saturday morning, I packed up everything and dumped it into the new place, and the stealing drama got even more dramatic, but I am too much of a storyteller to let you know the punchline without telling the whole story!  On Saturday afternoon, we picked up our friend Diane from the airport -- the kind of magical friend whom we had never met in person.  We connected because she is hoping to adopt Hosta, whom I have been helping out at the orphanage, and I decided to go out on a limb and invite her to stay with us and she decided to go out on a limb and say yes.  We ended up being the kind of mutual blessing to each other and our children, that we felt like was ordained to happen.  Then on Saturday evening (yes, still Saturday!) we met with the orphanage director here, picked up Hosta for the rest of the weekend (!!!), and met with the program director from the U.S. hours before we had to catch a plane home.  On Sunday.... it's hard to even remember what happened on Sunday!  We had four kids in various stages of excitement and wildness, and we managed to put a few things in the cupboards from my very hasty move.  On Monday, the older three all went back to their schools, and Diane and Buttercup and I ran errands downtown, including meeting with the lawyer and picking up a month's worth of packages that Miss B had somehow forgotten to tell me about.  The post office was not quite as dramatic as last time, but it was still not a simple trip!  On Tuesday was the court date, which I have written about, and an incredibly long day.  On Wednesday, Diane and Buttercup and Hosta and I went to Hosta's village to meet with some officials there, which is also a whole story in its own right, and I will simply say that poor Emerson and Hibiscus ended up spending fourteen hours at school because we were stuck there, but we got some incredibly important things done.  Fourteen hours later.  So on Thursday we let the kids stay home from school and tried to do something a little bit fun before dropping Diane off at the airport, and then the kids came home and played in the yard.  With their new shiny plastic junk, because what is a better way to thank kids for surviving fourteen hour days than letting them pick out shiny plastic junk from the toy aisle? Then we had to bring Hosta back to the orphanage.  There were a lot of tears that day.

And today is Friday again!  What an incredibly long week!  There are at least two or three long stories I need to write, but today I am being dedicated and working at actually unpacking our house.  Or rather, the kids have been great at the unpacking and distributing, and I have been working at putting things away!  If today were Monday and I had a week of Buttercup-only days ahead of me, I would have felt like I made good progress,

but as it is, I'm kind of discouraged because today is actually the end of the week.  At least I got three loads of laundry washed while the power was on, and my washing machine has a child lock so I don't have to worry about buttons getting pushed all the time, and it plays a song when I start it and to tell me it's done.  A singing washing machine.  It's time to be grateful for the small things!

Administrative Update

Administrative Update

I haven't written about where we are in the actual adoption process for quite a while.  I've thought about writing about the process of working with the Probation Officer to get the Care Order, but it has just felt too frustrating to think about when I didn't have to.  Since then, we've had a lot of baby steps that never seem to amount to much, so I haven't bothered to say much.  Besides, I've had three kids to deal with.  That has taken up most of my energy!

We got the Care Orders about a month ago, when my husband was visiting.  A Care Order is a document that is needed when filing for guardianship, but in our case we filed for a Foster Care Order -- and received not one but two versions -- which is a great deal more.  We have full guardianship of the girls for three years.  They don't have passports, but I don't actually think there is a specific limitation on taking them out of the country.

In Uganda, there are actually two paths to adoption.  The original (and complete) method of adoption is to foster the child for three years, and then apply for adoption, which can be granted by a judge free and clear.  Many missionaries and foreign aid workers have used that through the years, fostering children while they are working in the country.  (Which is another reason why seeing white parents with black children doesn't need to be a TOTAL shock.  Almost all of the white families I've met who are living here, have black children attached in some way.)

The legal path for guardianship was opened more recently, because the adoption process was so limited.  Prospective parents can apply to be guardians of children who have a care order placing them in a Babies' Home (orphanage).  They receive a guardianship order, which is not actual adoption.  Once they are back in their home country and have been living together for a certain amount of time, they can apply to their own country (in our case, the US) to adopt the children.

At this point, since the care order names us as foster parents, we could actually go either way.  We are continuing down the path towards guardianship, because the official adoption technically requires three years, so we would have to ask to have that waived.  Or stay here for three years, which does NOT sound appealing!!!

We got the care order, which took so long that the lawyer had been able to gather all the other documents in the meanwhile.  We needed another letter from the same office.  That took a couple more weeks.  We finally had everything together, yay!

I brought that final document to the lawyer just over two weeks ago.  But were we actually done?  No.  As I think I have mentioned, all the judges had a month-long recess this summer and were re-assigned to new positions, so almost all the judges in Family Court have not been hearing Family Court cases before.  A new judge started hearing cases (the others have not yet begun accepting cases), and provided a list of all the documents she wanted to see in her hearings.  It included all the major things that we assembled in the US and have been working on here, and also quite a bit more.  Luckily, most of these we had already procured for the Probation Office, who wanted millions of back-up paperwork, so didn't require any extra time and effort at this point.  However, there were a bunch of little things, like passport photos of the girls, and copies of some other things we had on hand.

I spent the weekend getting those together.  All done now?

It turned out, the judge also wants all the living parents and relatives to sign a consent form saying that they understand what adoption is and agree to it.  Now, our Babies' Home talks with the parents and has them sign a consent form when they bring the children in.  Then the agency in America has another, longer consent form that they want to make sure that the parents and other relatives have all signed before they actually match the child.  Then the lawyer has a consent form she has specially made up to fit the local law, and she wanted to find even more relatives for that one.  Then there are their actual affadavits, which include a description of their understanding and their consent.  All of this in both languages.  But the judge has yet another one.

And they can't find the mother.  She doesn't really live at home (which is part of the problem for the children) and is apparently in her not-really-there state.  So for the last week, the people at the Babies' Home have been trying to find her so she can sign yet another paper.  

And then the lawyer can file in court.  She will be assigned a judge, who will then assign us a date.  She said that we should know what our judge and date is within one to two weeks of filing, and our actual court date should be within a couple weeks after that, depending on which judge and how full their schedule is.

Then we have the court date and will hopefully be granted guardianship.  From what I can tell, guardianship is kind of like fostering, except it doesn't expire.  Sometimes it sounds like the lawyer is asked to gather a couple more documents or the parents are asked to do something else, and there is a follow-up hearing 2 or 3 days later.

Then we apply to the US for a visa.  We already have our provisional orphan visa, but the embassy has to review the case and make sure everything looks correct and legal, and that the children are legally orphans.  It sounds like there are various steps, followed by a court date at the embassy, which should take another 2-3 weeks after the guardianship hearing.

If the US Embassy doesn't find the case "clearly approvable," because they are a smaller outpost, they can't do the investigation themselves, and they send the case to Nairobi, Kenya.  Then THAT embassy (or whatever the official title is there) will do a more thorough investigation of the situation, but that could take months.  We are really praying that the local Embassy finds the situation "clearly approvable."

Then we will have to pack up the apartment and figure out all the details and get airplane tickets and go home.  And yes, Emerson and I have been here for so long that our return tickets have expired, so we all will need new airplane tickets.  (And if you are thinking, "my goodness! we wouldn't have the money to deal with all of that!", then I have got to tell you.... neither do we!)  The girls will have Ugandan passports with US relative visas.

Then, a month later, we can file for adoption with a US lawyer in a US court.  Then, we will have to send progress reports back to Uganda at several different point, depending on what the Ugandan judge orders.

So, hopefully the case will get filed in September, we have the court date in mid-October, get US visas in November, and be home by the end of November.  I have had so many people compliment me for my patience in this process, but really, what else is there for me to do?  As my children re-learn every day, throwing a fit doesn't get you anywhere.

But if we're not home in November, I really am going to lose it.