Visa Appointment

The United States consul has declared that Buttercup and Hibiscus were deserted by their mother and abandoned by their father, and that therefore they have no parents and meet the official definition of orphans.  Thus, they will be able to immigrate to America with orphan relative visas.  We can pick up the visas and travel documents on Friday.


I should be jumping up and down for joy or wanting to go out and celebrate, but I'm just absolutely exhausted. I guess after all the thinking about it and worrying about it, and a very long afternoon with some very wild children and plenty of confusion, it's just over and I'm feeling leftover. I was debating whether to do something to celebrate for dinner, but I couldn't deal with the thought of taking the children anywhere else. But I didn't want to cook either. So I picked up roadside food: chapatis, roasted maize, and samosas, and we ate on the porch. And I keep thinking, now I can start planning on how I'm going to pack and what else we need to do before we leave.... I start to think and my brain just fuzzles out.  It's either too many details or too unreal.  After all these months and all these complications and all this waiting, I can't believe that it's over.  The paperwork, the time in Uganda, any of it.


Since the appointment wasn't until mid-afternoon, Buttercup and I had a calm morning at home, which was much appreciated.  The driver showed up around noon, and I tried to get dressed and make us all look pretty -- I even put on makeup and wore nice earrings!  I didn't know how formal we were supposed to be, but I always figure that it is better to err on the side of being a little bit too nice.  Besides, I figured that for once I was seeing another white person, and she would recognize white-person clean hair or white-person put-together face!

Then we picked the children up from school, which of course had all sorts of drama.  Emerson didn't want to go change his clothes by himself.  He didn't want to go with a teacher, he wanted to go with me, but I needed to talk with someone.  They hadn't had lunch yet; Hibiscus wanted some before we left.  I told her to eat quickly, and she inhaled an entire plateful before Emerson even made it to the changing room.  Buttercup wanted out of the car, and I told her she could go if she didn't get dirty; I turned around and she was crawling around in the dust, and then she wouldn't get back in the car when it was time to go.  And in the middle she threw a fit because I wouldn't let her eat lunch at school, since we had just left the lunch table at home, and she had eaten until she was ready to pop.  Once we were in the car, I had brought a snack for the kids, and while I wasn't looking Hibiscus (who just ate an entire lunch) gobbled up most of it while Emerson (who had eaten nothing) was barely munching his first one.  This came to my attention because Hibiscus started whining that her stomach hurt.  Which is what happens when you eat an entire plate of rich food, four hot dogs, and a banana in about ten minutes flat, and I told her I had no sympathy whatsoever, especially since Emerson was still hungry but all the food was in Hibiscus's bloated belly.  And so on and so forth: all the little dramas of having three children, and taking them out of their routine to do way too many boring errands.  But they were required to be at this one, so I stuffed them in pretty clothes and dragged them along.

Their teacher, Derrick, also came along, because I had asked if he knew someone who could come with us to help with the kids.  He was a lifesaver!  The children continued to be wild and crazy the entire time.  Not only did they not want to sit still (which I admit is not very fascinating), they were directly disobedient and defiant, like repeatedly running out of the area where we were allowed to wait, with the armed guard telling them to stay in the gate.  At some point, they have had capacity to allow themselves to be entertained with something non-ideal but fairly interesting, because they know that it is important.  Like driving in the car to safari or during the court date.  I am starting to think that all their positive social skills have disappeared during this month of school break-cum-paperwork errands.  They have all been especially scattered and difficult lately.


It was a bad place to not care about rules, because the US Embassy has enough rules and regulations to sink a small ship, or probably even a medium-large tanker.  Just walking through the gate to go into the compound is somewhere between annoying and impossible, depending on what documents you have in hand.  I suppose it is just as well that they do a security check fourteen different times (what could I manage to hide in my coin purse, really?), but what drives me crazy is the list of things that you're not allowed to bring inside.  I don't mind that some things are disallowed, but it is the list itself that bothers me.  It is about a page and a half, single spaced, with all these little things like "phone, ipod, laptop computer, cables, powder, cosmetics, nail clippers" and so on and so forth, for two pages.  So the first time I went through I carefully checked all the items on my list with the guard, who put them in a little box and gave me the key.  And then I went through the next security checkpoint, and they took all these other things out of my bag and told me to give them back.  Because, you see, an e-reader is not on the list, but what the list is ACTUALLY trying to say is "all types of electronics," so a Nook is not allowed.  We could skip about a page of listing and a great deal of confusion if they wrote that.  They also returned my small sunscreen bottle as "cosmetics," which it isn't, but I suppose the category they want is "liquids and creams," like the airlines.  So I think the list should be improved to describe categories instead of trying to name all the specific things that might fit into the categories!

One category they do list is all food and drink, so we had to leave our water bottles at the gate.  Last time I was there they had one of those office-style water-tanks, but this time the water had run out and the person who was supposed to bring a new tank naturally hadn't brought one, because this is Uganda and Ugandans do not hurry to get their work done.  Between the heat, the waiting, nerves, and talking, I wanted a drink of water so badly!  It is often those little things that color a whole experience, and I think whenever I remember our visa appointment I will immediately be thirsty.

As I wrote last night, we had this vague "all the families show up and we will try and get through the appointments," which didn't make much sense.  We got through the security complications somewhere around two o'clock, when we were supposed to show up.  I saw four or five families waiting in the outside waiting area of the immigration visa area as we arrived, but then several of them left.  I don't know why.  I don't know if they didn't have their paperwork, or were told to come back at a specific time, or what on earth happened.  I recognized several of them from other points on this long journey, including one mother who has been waiting at the same time as us ever since the passport office.  I hope they all are okay.

We were advised to go inside, and I think only one other family went before us, but they were the only ones still waiting.  I sat around and tried to help the kids do activities for a while, but then I didn't understand why the birth parents weren't there.  I had texted Miss B on the way over, and she had replied that everything was fine and they were coming.  She is usually very prompt for important dates, so by 2:30 I was worried.  After some discussion with the man at the desk (receptionist? guard? greeter?), it turned out that they were stuck waiting on the benches outside the Embassy gates.  So I went down to "confirm their identity" and bring them back with me, which involved leaving my visitor's badge as I left the immigration area, and then going through the entire process of entering the compound all over again.  But much more slowly, with two sick adults instead of three lively children (and someone from the orphanage helping liase for them).  I tried to enjoy my very slow walk up the sidewalk, and appreciate that I wasn't stuck in a room being nervous and trying to control three uncontrollable children.  But it's hard for me to walk slowly when I'm tense.

By the time I got back to the correct area, it was about our turn to go in.  I was told to come in with the children.  I had expected some kind of room where we would all sit down and perhaps be asked questions, but this was like going to a bank teller, but private.  I went in the little door marked "3" and stood at a counter, and the consul official sat behind the counter which was a desk for her, and there was a glass wall between us, and a slot underneath to pass papers back and forth.  The children came in with me, but immediately went insane and couldn't stop climbing on things (there was absolutely nothing to climb on but the trash basket and straight up the walls, so up they went), and complaining loudly and repeatedly that they couldn't see, and mama MAma MAMAAAA did you know my toe hurts? and so on.  The official said that if they would be more comfortable outside they could sit in the waiting area, and then they refused to leave, and Hibiscus and Emerson started crying that they didn't want to be away from me, while Buttercup entertained herself by opening and closing the door, and sometimes putting herself on opposite sides of it.  I was about ready to take them by their ears and deposit them anywhere far enough away that I could hear her voice on the other side of the glass, but luckily something happened, and Derrick grabbed their attention, and finally they left and stayed gone.  Things went much more smoothly then.

The goal of this interview is to confirm that the children meet the international definition of "orphan," which is complicated.  There are eight different ways that a child can be classified as an orphan, and it is possible to adopt a child in-country, that the country qualifies as needing adoption but the US does not qualify as being an orphan, and then they don't issue a visa.  (However, hopefully an honest lawyer would point out the problems at the beginning!)  I had no idea what the appointment would be like, but it went along well.  The official went over the paperwork with me and asked some little questions.  During the intake appointment, the intake person had told me to change a couple of things that didn't make sense to me, and the consul official told me to change them back.  I had to sign that I would get the girls fully vaccinated within 30 days of arriving in the U.S.  Interestingly enough, the consul official seemed to really respect that I had been here so long and knew the girls and their situation so well.  I was prepared for her to be very picky and very detail-oriented, which she was, but she seemed to acknowledge and respect that I knew the details, instead of doubting me.  She asked a couple of general questions, such as having me describe the girls' family situation, and she asked what I honestly thought of the orphanage, and what my impressions of the birth family was and why I thought they had relinquished the children.  The only hitch was that she wanted to see the original relinquishment forms that the parents had signed when the children came to Abato.  There have been about four more, more official forms that the parents have since signed, so the lawyer hadn't included those.  She said that I might have to make another appointment so she could see them.

Then I was excused, and found everyone waiting in the outside waiting area, which allowed the children to be even more chaotic than before.  After a few minutes, each of the birth parents was called in, and probably each spent ten minutes being interviewed (with an interpreter).  Then there was another pause and I was invited back in again.

The consul official explained what I wrote in the first sentence, about the official status of the parents, and why the girls are considered official orphans.  She said the parents had had a better than average understanding of what adoption means, and that the father was very clear and articulate about when and how and why he relinquished the children to Abato, so she wasn't worried about seeing the documents.  She gave me back all my paperwork except for the girls' passports, because they will put the visas in them.  Our "travel packet" will be ready at noon on Friday.

And that was it.  So, unless our luck holds and they manage to have a fire in the records room between now and Friday, or something like that, we will be completely done in 38 hours.  This is the last piece of paper between our family, and our home in Oregon.


As I have said, I just don't believe it yet.  I want to just go back into our regular routine, and I think about the things that need to get done tomorrow and how I'm going to manage them.  I suppose I will also start making lists of things that we need to do in Uganda, and figure out how I'm going to plan our time.  It will probably take about another two weeks to get everything ready, and also wait for airline tickets at a reasonable price.  Perhaps it will be difficult, still being here when I know that we have the documents to go.  But I think, as sick of living in Uganda as I am right now, I still will need some time to decompress and transition away.  It has been a long time.  For every little thing that I think about and irritates me, there are probably twenty little things that I take for granted and take care of calmly.

But that's all tomorrow.  Tonight, I'm exhausted.  And I'm hoping it's real.

Mid-January Update

It is the Tuesday of the middle week of January.  School finally started again yesterday, after an entire month's break, and Emerson and Hibiscus were on the bus at 7:40.  Somewhere around ten, I decided that maybe I didn't hate Uganda quite as much if I had a quiet house and the chance to get some exercise, and the thought of doing errands didn't make me feel like crying if I could just wear whatever child needed to go with me.  (Actually, I was just having the conversation with some other babywearing moms, that errands would be much better if we could logistically manage to wear the older ones, and just let the baby toddle around.  Babies can't get into nearly as much trouble as over-active school-aged children.)

Mid-morning, Buttercup and I went for a walk.  I decided that we didn't have to have a goal in mind, and we just went up and down the steep roads in our new neighborhood, seeing the scenery, looking out over Lake Victoria, and exploring whether or not the roads went through to the other roads that were directly in front of the road in question.  (In general, no; they all got to the wall of some compound or other and just stopped.)  We set off, and this is how our walk was going along:

Walk, walk, walk.  Look, look, look.
Buttercup: mm, mm.  Duck, hmm.
Walk, walk, walk.
Buttercup: Five little ducks... hm, hmm...
Mama: Would you like me to sing Five Little Ducks?
Buttercup: Yes!
Mama sings Five Little Ducks, once through, with Buttercup either listening or singing the same words, and the same music, at the same time.
Walk, walk, walk, walk, walk.
Buttercup: See da fow-ah, Mama?
Mama: Yes, I see a pretty red flower.
Buttercup: Petty red fow-ah.
Walk, walk, walk, walk, walk.
Walk, walk, walk, walk, walk.

Ah.  Happy introvert time!

After our walk, we had lunch, and got the downstairs of the house tidied and cleaned up.  Somehow, that has not happened in the entire month that we have lived in this house!  It is very refreshing.  Then the bus brought the kids home, and they all played outside while I finished ironing my wraps and blouses, which have been waiting around in wrinkly piles.  It was a wonderful day, even though the Embassy was supposed to call me with an appointment time and they didn't. Although it ended very tired, as my little band of monkeys got up to quite a bit of mama-exhausting-ness in their last few hours, and of course created a whole new big-issue problem to worry about.  I think I'm not bothering to worry about it yet, though.


Today, we had errands to do.  We actually went out with another adopting family whom we are getting to know, which meant that there were adult human beings to talk with me!  We stopped by the kids' school, which is in a new building, and got a tour and a lot of enthusiasm from our friend Derrick, who runs the school.  Then we all went to lunch together, and the company was exciting for both Buttercup and I.  For me, there was actual conversation, with people saying things and then not talking for a little while when someone else said something, and then basing their next comments on what they just heard the other person say.  Conversation is an amazing art.  Meanwhile, Buttercup was amazed to be the "big girl in town," with little one-year-old Sorrel watching her attentively and trying to bang on her arm.  She is used to being the baby and spending all her energy trying to keep up with bigger children, and being rebuffed half the time.  One could just see the wheels turning in her head as she tried to imagine getting to be in the other role!  I can't wait to get her home to America, where she can spend time with kids her own age, and do activities designed for little people.

We left our friends shopping there, and went into town to the lawyer's office and the post office.  It was by far my smoothest post office experience yet, except for the reason I was there: picking up a package that was mailed in SEPTEMBER.  I had given it up for lost when Miss B gave me the package slip a couple of days ago!

Then we got our friends, dropped them at home, picked the children up from school, checked on a horse-riding lesson, and went home, all with no calls from the Embassy.  But when I got home, I found an email.


Let me give a quick refresher course about what I expected; what the Embassy explained in their little class, which matched what the adoption agency told us, and the experience of other parents whom I have talked with.  You have the paperwork-intake appointment.  Then they give you the next appointment for a hearing, which is a specific time on Monday or Wednesday afternoons, and tell you who and what you need to bring with you, and any other details specific to your case.  Then you come with the children, any living birth parents, NO lawyers or adoption workers, and you go over your huge pile of paperwork and they acknowledge that the children are legal orphans, and two days later you get your exit paperwork.

And here is what happened.  They took the paperwork, didn't have any knowledge about my case in particular, said "we'll call you some time, like maybe Monday," and confirmed my phone number. They didn't call Monday.  They didn't call Tuesday.  They sent an email on Tuesday, telling us to be there Wednesday, but -- here comes the weird part -- it isn't an actual appointment for us, they are telling all the families to come at the same time on Wednesday afternoon, and they'll "get through as many as possible," but to be prepared for a long wait.  In other words, I need to collect my three crazy children, arrive at nap time and stay through The Witching Hour, sit around in a crowded room filled with other nervous parents and even more chaotic children, and possibly or possibly not have our hearing.  Meanwhile, we also need to collect the parents or possibly someone else, since we haven't heard details about whom or what we need to bring, who are at best sick and weak and tired, and at worse delirious or missing entirely, and they also need to sit around all afternoon and maybe we will have an appointment and maybe we won't.  Doesn't that sound wonderful?

It remains to hope that the last two phrases of the original description remain valid.  I will not complain about sitting around if we walk out with a promise of paperwork, so I shouldn't be complaining ahead of time.  But I can't actually believe that it is going to happen!  Especially now that the children are back at school, it seems like we are back in our cheerful little holding pattern, and will remain circling for an unidentified period.

So that's the update!  We'll see what I am able to write tomorrow!

A Surprisingly Busy Week

Last week turned out to be a busy week, which was an unexpected blessing.  I had known that the courts were closed for three or four weeks over the holidays, that the Embassy wasn't holding appointments for two weeks, the lawyer's office was closed for two weeks, and that basically everything was closing.  Well, it turned out that some of the offices opened again for part of New Year's week, so we actually made some progress during the break.  Yay!

On Monday:
☑ we picked up the girls' passports
☑ I called the IOM (which is International Office of Migration or something like that; not Medical anything) and got an appointment.  Even making a phone call and managing to communicate something to someone is a success in this country.  Especially with these children around.
☑ we had the intake and paperwork appointment at the IOM

On Tuesday:
☑ the girls had their preliminary examination at the IOM, including getting the TB shot
☑ we had Hibiscus's hair braided (which is kind of tangentially related to getting paperwork finished, but it was an accomplishment)
☑ I emailed the US Embassy to ask for case numbers
☑ I went through all the paperwork for the Embassy, and realized there were things that I should have had figured out already, like a bazillion more copies of tax returns and employment verifications
☑ Mark and I talked back and forth about all the paperwork, and he got a package in FedEx to get me everything else that I needed

Wednesday was New Year's Day.  We had a rest day at home, with some playing and laundry accomplished.

On Thursday, we also spent the day at home, and:
☑ I met with Miss B from Abato and we had a long talk, so I was able to send information home to several other people who have been worried about how things are going over here.
☑ the Embassy emailed me case numbers for the girls, which meant that I could...
☑ fill out and submit the actual application for a US visa on-line.  I got the numbers in the late afternoon, so I ended up doing that after bedtime, so it was a late night.

On Friday:
☑ we had our final appointment at the IOM; the girls had not even the faintest reaction to the TB test, and they saw the actual doctor, who did not poke them
☑ thanks to my late-night activity, I received an email with an appointment for filing the paperwork at the Embassy: next Wednesday.  They only do intake appointments on Monday and Wednesday morning, so this was the second day available.  So less quick, but I was kind of relieved that I didn't have to have everything ready by Monday, especially with documents coming from the US.
☑ I made copies of important documents and printed out some things from email
☑ the kids went for a pony ride.  Also not exactly related, but after a week with that many errands, very important!


And that was going to be my post.  But I spent the weekend being either busy, exhausted, or irritated, and didn't get it written.  So now I will include a couple more days.  Also, the kids were supposed to go back to school on Tuesday, but the school has to move buildings and they're not ready yet, so they delayed for another week.  This is a major tragedy!  After spending a week trying to do errands with all three kids, I am sick of herding them around and they are sick of sitting around bored in some office or a car.  But there is no choice for it, so we started in together, in our wild herd of busy-child-ness.

On this Monday:
☑ we tracked down the FedEx package.  I elected to hire a car and drive over to their office in a weird part of town instead of continuing the argument that they should actually deliver it to me.  They seem to be a bit confused on this point, and every time they say things like "why don't you just come over and pick it up here?"  Because of issues like "there are many turns on the way to your house."  Or "your house is on the other side (of town) and I have to deliver all my packages on this side.  So it makes it too late for me to come over to your side, so why don't you just come get the package?"  Because you are FedEx.  Because my family in America paid a small fortune to have you deliver the package and they meant that you were actually supposed to bring it to ME.  Anyway, I gave in this time, because I actually wanted the package NOW.
☑ printed out more documents
☑ since we had a car anyway, went back to the resort with the stables and Hibiscus had a real riding lesson

On Tuesday:
☑ we spent the day at home.  I tried to get all the documents filled out and organized, which also took various calls and emails to confirm information.  And way too much filling-out.  Everything has to be done in capital letters and black ink.  You know what?  I absolutely hate writing in all capital letters.  There is something about my handwriting that makes is really difficult and painful.  And there were all these crazy legal terms, which were often confusing because they were written for someone applying for a residence visa, and usually aimed at an adult applicant.  So I kept trying to figure out if the "you" was the child, or me, or someone else.  And I had to write our address in Oregon approximately 50 million times ("what is your mailing address.  What is the sponsor's address.  What is your intended address in the US.  What is your mother's address.  What is your father's address.")  By the end, I was almost misspelling "Oregon," and my own maiden name.

On Wednesday:
☑ I had the intake appointment at the Embassy, and managed to leave all three kids at school although it hasn't started yet.  I was worried about arriving on time American-style, but this actually wasn't important, as I waited for about two hours for my appointment.  The person who took my documents told me to change a couple of things, I was able to hand her everything she wanted, and that was it.  No appointment for a visa hearing, which is the final step.  We are supposed to get a final appointment at the intake appointment, but they said with the situation in South Sudan, they are working day-to-day, and they will "call me later" with an appointment.  This is very frustrating, since we have other plans to make that are dependent on when the final appointment happens.

Now it's Thursday, and back to waiting limbo.  Nothing else to do until I hear from the Embassy.

It has been a busy couple of weeks.  After spending so much time waiting for a certain piece of paper or getting to an appointment, it has felt somewhat unbelievable to have so many things happen right in a row.  We expected this to be the lead-up all the way to the end, but it seems that once again we have hit a random and unexpected "wait until something happens" time.  How rude of those South Sudanese, to start a war right when I'm trying to finish my paperwork!

Passports!

While I was in Kenya, I got a call from Miss B, saying that the lawyer's office called her and told her that we could pick up the passports on Monday morning.  Where to pick them up, and why they called Miss B, remained mysteries.  (It turned out because they had tried calling me but the call wouldn't go through, but for some reason Miss B's phone reached mine in Kenya without issue.)

So yesterday we got home and were all grumpy, and today is Monday and this is what happened.  I asked the driver to come at 8 for the "first thing Monday morning," but we did not actually get our bodies in the car and going out the gate until 9:30.  I tried calling the lawyer, but no one answered, so I decided we would go to the passport office and not the lawyer's office, since I thought the lawyer's office was closed but apparently the passport office was having a brief spurt of activity.  We got there, had to park down the street, got all the kids out of the car, went over to the gate, where the policeman passive-aggressively insulted me for not having the correct documents.  We left the line and tried calling the lawyer again, and eventually we got ahold of the person in the office who helps us through the passport logistics, and had a crummy-cell-phone conversation, in which I understood that she told me to bring my passport, the guardianship order, and the girls' birth certificates.  I had the first and the last, but not the middle.

As we drove away, I called the IOM office, where we need to make a medical appointment, and they send the results to the Embassy.  This is the appointment they would not let me make without the passports, and the last piece of paper before the Embassy itself.  I told the children to be quiet while I was on the phone, which lasted for about ten seconds before Hibiscus started throwing herself around the car and giggling.  The driver told her to stop, and started batting at her because she was being dangerously obnoxious.  She subsided for a moment, until I got to the part in making the appointment about giving the children's names.  I used their Ugandan names, which are their only official names, and Hibiscus started correcting me and then yelling at me because she absolutely hates her Ugandan name and never even wants to hear it, let alone have it refer to her.  Then I said that Buttercup was two years old, again because that is what her official papers say, and Hibiscus totally lost it.  That is the way phone conversations go around here.  But I got an appointment for that afternoon... "just for the paperwork, you do not have to carry the children with you," the woman helpfully advised.  Wouldn't I just love to leave them somewhere, but it is school vacation and no where else for them to go!

We had to drive all the way Ggaba Road to Konge to pick up the missing bit of paperwork.  Meanwhile, we stopped at a copy shop to copy something for the medical appointment.  Then home, grill cheese sandwiches for lunch, and try and get all the children back in the car.  Actually, they love to play in the car; the problem is to get them to potty and put their shoes on first.

Then back downtown.  The fee for the medical appointments is $100 US dollars, which is slightly complicated.  I didn't have that much cash (it's quite a lot in Uganda!) so we had to stop at an ATM.  All FOUR of them in Kabalagala were not working, which might possibly set a record.  So downtown at a big bank, where I had to wait in line.  Then a little farther down the street, to a Forex bureau, to change the money into dollars.  Then back to the passport office for our 2:00 appointment.

It turns out that we weren't supposed to bring those documents, we were supposed to bring COPIES of all those documents, so the office could keep them.  This had not occurred to me, as I thought they had copies of just about everything under the sun including Webster's dictionary, but apparently that was the office on the other side of the compound, and the passport-handing-out side wanted copies of everything for their own selves.  Also copies of my husband's passport, which I had at home but not with me.  So the lawyer's-office lady went back and forth into the crowded room for a while, and I waiting with the children on the benches and tried to keep them from driving everyone crazy.  Emerson read "The Little Engine That Could" to Hibiscus, and Buttercup wanted to read too but I wouldn't let her out of the wrap.  She was so whiney that it was no surprise when she suddenly fell fast asleep.

Eventually we went into a very crowded room (an actual indoor one).  I wrote out all my information in a big book while a burly official glared and Hibiscus's passport.  Then I turned around to another big book, where I wrote my local information and signed.  Then they gave me the passport.  The entire procedure was repeated for Buttercup's passport, except the non-asleep children had time to get curious by that point, and wanted me to hold them up, and go through gates, and other non-helpful things.  But then I held both passports in my very own hands!  And to make a good thing even better, I managed to put Buttercup in her carseat and she fell right back asleep, so she had a proper nap.

Then we needed to go to the IOM appointment.  That took driving around for a while, and eventually we found the building.  I had to hand over my passport to enter, and got a special visitors' card around my neck, which really impressed the children.  (The older ones; Buttercup slept in the car with the driver.  There are benefits to having your own driver!!)  The compound was fairly open and quiet, and maybe this helped my kids, because they were much calmer than they had been all day in crowded and noisy places.  We eventually got to the right office, where the receptionist very slowly and calmly made copies of all my documents.  Luckily, they seemed to be all there and correct!  There was one of those water jug fountains in the corner, which kept the kids happy and occupied, although of course eventually Hibiscus had to spill her whole cup of water on the floor.  We got an appointment for the actual medical exam at 8 tomorrow morning, which will mean that we have to leave the house early, but hopefully then they will have the entire day to work on whatever complicated week-long process it takes to send the reports over to the Embassy!

Now that we have the passports, we are done with the Ugandan side of things, and the passports and the IOM reports are the last things that we need in order to submit an application for a US visa.  Then they will give us a preliminary appointment (on Monday or Wednesday morning) in order to review our paperwork, and if it correct, they will give us an appointment for a hearing.  This might be as soon as the same day, or if the slots are already filled, it could be up to a three week wait.  The hearing needs to be attended by at least one adoptive parent, the children in question, and their birth parents and possibly other relatives.  They assess whether or not the child is clearly an orphan by the legal definition.  If the child is, she gets her "travel packet" two business days later.  If she is not "clearly approvable," the case gets sent to Nairobi for investigation.  That is what we DON'T want!

So, after many hours of errands, we had some fun.  We were in a nice area of town, so we found a nice restaurant that had good food and space to play.  The children immediately dove into a game that involved the brass bowls filled with water and rose petals.  I don't know what they were supposed to be for, but luckily we were the only people there that early, and Ugandans are amused by children's normal antics.  So they played in the bowls on the floor, and then the bowls started wandering around, and then all kinds of beautiful Indian decorations made it into the play, and when our food came the children grabbed trays and wanted to carry it in.  And the chefs or the waiter or someone gave them each a little bowl to put on their tray which they carried all the way to the table: Emerson and Hibiscus got a little side dish of raita, and Buttercup got a few carrots and cucumber.  She was so focused on carrying her tray and walking, and she did a wonderful job, until Hibiscus had finished her serving and came back yelling and screaming about what a great job Buttercup was doing, and then she tried to hug her, and then she was jumping up and down in her face, and I had to rush in and save the carrots and cucumbers from their highly confused handler.  I think that is a perfect summation of Hibiscus right there: that she is so enthusiastic, but has such poor judgement, that she ruins the joy of success for someone else right before it can be attained.  Buttercup was obviously so very proud of herself for carrying the tray the long distance from the kitchen, and her sister confused her into spilling it ten feet from the goal.

After dinner the kids ran around a great deal more.  They were motorcycles, and the waiter apparently was the traffic cop who kept catching them and threatening to take them to the police.  They got very sweaty and happy, which is a good ending to a long day.

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!

One Step Forward, One Step Back

This morning I looked at more apartments.  Then I called the IOM office to schedule the girls' medical appointment, since we will get their ID cards this afternoon or tomorrow, which is the last of the paperwork needed for IOM.  The good news is that they were able to schedule us in for Monday.  Then they asked if I had their passports, and I said no, but I had ID cards.  Then we had a conversation like this:

Lady: What kind of ID cards?
Me: The ID cards from their Local Council.
Lady: No, a letter from the LC doesn't count.
Me: It's not a letter, it's an ID card.
Lady: It cannot just be a card.
Me: It has their photo on it.
Lady: You cannot just bring in a photo, but you have to bring their passport.
Me: I'm not bringing their photo, I'm bringing a identification card with their name and their photo.
Lady: Where is it from?
Me: The LC district.
Lady: You must bring their passport.  You must bring the blue form, the birth certificate, $100 each, and their passport.
Me: I am LOOKING at the blue form, and it says "passport or other photo ID."
Lady: They must have the passport.
Me: The Embassy told us they need a photo ID.  You form says they need a photo ID.
Lady: The photo ID must be a passport.
Me: The form says it can be another form of ID.  It says passport OR another photo ID.
Lady: The photo ID must be the passport.
Me: I have another form of ID, just like it requires on the form.
Lady: I will ask about it and call you back.

She calls back: They have to bring the passport.  You need a passport to travel anyways, why are you trying to bring them if they do not have a passport?
Me: I am getting the passport also, but we don't have it just yet.  We were hoping to get the appointment before the holidays.
Lady (sounding irritated): Well, then bring the passport.  They are not refugees, they are Ugandans, so they need a Ugandan passport.
Me: The form says that they need a photo ID.
Lady: Everyone brings a passport.  We even put a copy of the passport into their file, that is how we make the file.  You have to bring their passports.
Me: You might want to change your forms, then.


Then we talked about when they are open.  She generously offered that there are appointments available all of next week.  And then nothing until January.  Just like everyone else, which DOES NOT HELP AT ALL.

Then I hung up, yelled "grr!" and sat down and cried.  Buttercup asked what I was doing, and I said that I was crying, because they had told me bad news and it would take a longer time to get to America.  She had been very ebullient, but she calmed right down and said seriously "me I want go America, and I want see Daddy.  Me missing Daddy."  Me too.

Continued Progress at Zero, Zip, Zilch

Yesterday we seemed poised on the cusp of so many things happening, that I thought I needed to give another update.

Equally poised.  No actual progress on any front.

I was really hoping that the landlord would have some good leads on other apartments, and would have in mind something similar to this.  He was so helpful to spend half his morning taking me around to a couple of places, and I know he made a bunch more calls as well, but the places we saw were duds.  I have discovered something within myself in the last few weeks since I did the last apartment search: I am unwilling to move into a LESS nice place.  I just am not going to do it.  I can focus on the positive, like it will be interesting to live in three different places in the city, and that will give me a broader perspective.  I can think of the things that I would be happy to switch over to in a new place, like a refrigerator-sized fridge.  But I now realize, that if I have to move and find myself somewhere kind of grungy, or the kids have nowhere to play, or half the appliances are missing.... I am just going to go over the edge.  I really am.

We now live in a really nice subdivision of Kampala, which I have mixed feelings about.  I really miss being right in a real trading-center-y village, with a huge outdoor market down the street, and minibus taxis into town just past that, and walking past all the little fruit stands and tailors who all knew me.  This area is much more isolated.  I don't think I ever would have gotten to know Kampala in the same way if I had lived here, simply in terms of going out and exploring around, because it's less practical to do.  I am quite sure I wouldn't have been able to gain such a strong feeling for the culture.  I might not have had a million best friends in Ggaba, but I did have a lot of personal relationships.  I went to the same shops and fruitsellers every day, and people knew me.  EVERYONE knew me!  And that did lead to a million small but meaningful interactions, very different from someone just coming up to me on the street, asking me a bunch of questions, and I never see them again.  (Like happened today.)  So I miss that.  But in a wealthier suburb, I also feel more pigeon-holed, like I am obviously a rich white person and they know all about rich white people.  I'm glad I'm not in the even richer suburb next door, where almost everyone is rich; I enjoy the different houses and people doing different things around the neighborhood.  But I also know that that makes it a little bit safer here.  I don't stand out as much, and the kind of places where I would stay is not a big glowing beacon of "find the rich people here"-ness as it was in Ggaba.  (My apartment building was robbed at least four times in the five months I lived there, despite multiple layers of security, not including my insider-theft.)

Anyways, I don't want to leave this area, since at least by now I know it somewhat, and I'm not going back to the Ggaba area where I am quite sure Crazy Evil Lady bears a big grudge against me.  And in a month, if I'm still in Uganda, this apartment will be open again and I can move back if I want.  So I've decided that it makes more sense to pay too much for a month of feeling pleasant and safe, rather than move to some place kind of dumpy after two very good apartments.  In which case I think I would totally lose it, and my husband would have to buy emergency Christmas-priced airfare to come pry me off of a puddle on the floor.  And my children would be traumatized by the mama-puddle-fying.  And the airfare would cost much more than the apartment upgrade would have in the first place.

(In case you are curious, the kind of apartment that would suit the children and I would be about $800-$2000 US dollars a month.  No matter how grungy I felt like going, I think it would be just plain stupid to get a place that was not fully gated with 24-hour security, and that's about the starting price for that much.  Being white is just too much of a temptation here.  Being white with black children is also mildly dangerous, although probably not in the daytime with normal people around.)

So, we didn't get anywhere on the apartment search.  First, the landlord brought me to a couple of places.  Then on my way back home, I asked at a couple more places, just because they were there and looked available.  Nope.  I was planning on going out again to a couple other places thatI saw on the last search, but decided to save those for tomorrow.  I actually did an internet search, realizing that it might possibly come up with something because I'm in an upscale neighborhood.  I did have a couple of agents call me back, so I think they will show me something tomorrow.  If that doesn't work out, I can go the previous route and get the house-hunter guy to drive around in the car with me, making all kinds of telephone calls and pointing the driver in different random directions to where he hears a rumor of a vacancy.  So I'm far from the end of the house-hunting line, but I had really hoped this worked out the easy way.


As for the other projects.... the guardianship order is still sitting nicely in the judicial halls.  Apparently my lawyer checks in with the girl who types things up, who said it is typed up and the judge needs to sign it but was very busy today.  After she signs it, the lawyer needs to pick it up, and make the payment for the order.  After getting the payment, she takes her receipt (probably in triplicate) and goes over to a different office, where they confirm the payment and the signature and who-knows-what, and then put the seal on it, and then she can take it away.  Although apparently the problem is that the guy who puts the seal on it is often not in his office, and then it takes longer.  She said the guy who puts the seal on it causes many delays.  Sigh.  The amount of complicated-ness around here is really spectacular.  On the up side, the typist girl confirmed that the ruling is in our favor.  I suppose that's kind of nice to hear, although the judge was about as clear as she legally could be in the court that she would be ruling in our favor, so it's not really a great load off my shoulders.  Like actually being able to hold the thing in my hands would be.


And for the ID, I didn't make any progress with that, either.  In Ggaba, I could walk down to the village and have our pictures taken.  From here, I almost have to go back to the same place.  I'll need to pick the kids up from school and do it on the way home, and then bring them home on the minibus, which after all the apartment drama just seemed like too much to handle.


And the trip out of the country: no progress there either.  Except it looks like I'll have to get to both the passport office and the IOM appointment next week, which is making it harder to schedule.  On the positive side, it sounds likely that I will be able to get the girls' passports before the break, which would make it legally simpler to take them out of the country if I can't get it coordinated before the other parent leaves.  Except for the part about actually, physically taking them.


And the kitten.  The kitten is not making the right sort of progress; the kitten thinks he lives here now.  I must be growing jaded, because I can distantly think "oh, attacking that clothespin is pretty cute" but I have ABSOLUTELY NO INTEREST in having a kitten around.  My mind spends all its time on how I don't want the kitten in the bedroom or getting its claws into our clothes, and I move all the wraps out of the room and close the door.  And then Buttercup sees the kitten and screams in mortal terror, and I remove it from the house again.  The problem is that everyone keeps their doors open here to let the breeze come through, which it does very nicely, but apparently kittens can just saunter in too.  And as soon as the big kids come home from school, they spoil it rotten, as long as by "spoiling" you like two very excitable children hovering over you all the time.  Apparently this kitten has an iron constitution.




And the children.  Must Hibiscus talk all the time?  Really truly all the time?  And this afternoon poor Emerson was really getting the short end of the wild-Hibiscus stick.  I don't think I have extra sympathy for him because he's my birth child and I love him better, but I get sympathetic for him when she just natters away at him ceaselessly, and you can see him wilting as the day goes by.  He has started whining and complaining about her a lot, which was getting on my nerves.  And then I realized how often Hibiscus drives ME crazy, and I have to shut my eyes for a moment and steel myself very carefully before I turn around and say something.  And I am 33 years old, have a masters degree in education and child development, and walked into this with my eyes wide open, and poor Emerson is only four, has anxiety issues, and never wanted to share his legos in the first place.

This afternoon, I guess she started immediately by almost pinching him in the gate and then telling him she didn't care, which is exactly the sort of argument I am not going to get in the middle of.  But after he "reported" her I called Emerson over to me, and said that if he wanted to he could go and play by himself.  And that Hibiscus really wants to play with him, so if he just leaves the game when he doesn't like how she's acting, she will try harder to not drive him away.  He immediately took to this idea, left Hibiscus and got his legos out.

A few days ago I did a major re-sorting of the legos, both physically and logically.  There are several sets mixed together, which is okay because Emerson was making up lots of new trucks to build, but now it has gotten overwhelming.  I sorted them all out by color and put them in little baggies, so he can find a specific piece when he looks for it.  And I put an absolute moratorium on Buttercup touching the legos because she is too little.  And I told Hibiscus that she had to build her OWN set of legos, and she had to follow the book and make it properly a few times in a row before she can build something else.  Or she can not follow the book and make her helicopter into whatever she darn well pleases, but what she cannot do is pick up one of the other books, put together the first few pieces that are easy while meanwhile mixing up whatever order the pieces are in, then give up as soon as something doesn't work right, and start grabbing pieces from all the baskets -- including the ones Emerson has spent days sorting out -- stick them on randomly for a couple minutes, then think of something else, drop the whole creation on the floor, all the little bits scatter everywhere, and she has no interest in cleaning them up properly, let alone re-sorting the pieces.  I actually think doing legos would be really good for Hibiscus, but she needs to start small and stick with it.  The full lego basket is too much for her.  I told her that Emerson had one set and he did it over and over and over before he got any more legos and she needs to do the same thing, period.

So what does she do when Emerson comes over to his lego project?  Follow him, of course.  And not even get our her lego basket, but just kind of sit around and heckle him, and try and sneak putting together clandestine lego creations.  Again, I'd love her to build with legos and learn about all the lego-learning things, but not at the expense of Emerson's sanity.  And there is really no reason she can't do that with her own lego set.  Emerson finished his tow-truck and towed-car set yesterday morning before school (it turns out he can do his hour-long morning routine in about three minutes flat if he's trying to get to lego-time), and has been painstakingly sorting out all the pieces for his garbage truck since then.  He wants to put everything in a basket before he starts building.

When it was obvious that she wasn't doing anything at all except sit there and annoy Emerson, I told her that Emerson had found his own space to play, and she could now find her own, which was anywhere except where Emerson was.  After quite a bit of sulking she settled on doing something with Chutes and Ladders in the hallway.  The problem was when Emerson moved to get something and she screamed at him that he couldn't look and he couldn't come near and he couldn't touch and he couldn't even be near her.  My dear child, you are fully allowed to have your privacy, but NOT IN THE HALLWAY WHICH IS BETWEEN YOUR BROTHER AND EVERYTHING ELSE IN THE HOUSE.  The hallway is not actually the ideal place to sit if you don't want anyone to look at you, ever.  Although apparently it's pretty good if you want to scream at people to not look at you.

At dinner time, here were just a few things out.  Emerson likes to take care of his own legos, and he was diligently working on that.  Hibiscus was supposed to pick up toys off the floor.  Have I mentioned that Emerson is usually slow and careful and deliberate (and distractible) and Hibiscus is at least as distractible, but quick in all her movement and efficient when she actually does something?

Suddenly, violent, terrible screaming.  Emerson is hovering over the floor, which is covered with bits of lego, which used to be the tow-truck and car.  Hibiscus is looking shocked and guilty.  I asked if Hibiscus had bumped into him at whirlwind speed and knocked him down with his completed, glorious legos set.  More crying.  It turns out it was worse: Hibiscus had decided to pick up the legos herself, despite my telling her at least twice to leave the legos alone, at least four times that she needed to clean the toys off the floor, and Emerson keeping up a pretty much constant chatter about how no one else was supposed to touch the legos.  While he was neatly gathering things together, Hibiscus took the most exciting piece on the table, thought she was clearing it, and apparently ran full-speed into disaster.

Then, not two minutes later, she added injury to insult.  For some reason she decided she needed to rearrange all the chairs at the table.  I have told her over and over not to carry chairs on her head, and she obeyed the letter of the law but not the spirit of picking up chairs and swinging them around in a small apartment.  Still at full-speed (albeit burdened) she knocked a chair leg right into Emerson's rib cage.  He was not a happy camper.



So that is my day, in which we made no discernible forward progress at all.  Although it is possible that the guardianship order took some more invisible steps, as did Emerson and Hibiscus's relationship.

Progress, the Next Day

Very Early Morning: There was a huge thunderclap in the night, and when the girls woke up it was still so dim out I told them to go back to sleep. Then I looked at the clock and it was well after 7 and time to get up. This morning, it is just plain raining -- usually it drizzles or it pours cats and dogs and then stops, but it has been raining for hours. At least I brought most of my laundry inside last night!  And at some point the kitten must have decided he missed his mother and gone back through the fence.  This will slow down our morning plans. Even if I am ambitious and get out in the rain, the people I need to find probably won't be.

Unfortunately, the only person who was NOT late this morning was the bus driver.  He is late whenever anything happens, such as a leaf dropping off a tree as he passes by, and has never yet been on time when it has been raining.  (Which provides a significant body of evidence.)  So for what I think is the very first time, me and my kids were not actually ready for the bus.  Hibiscus didn't get her juice, and for various reasons was crying.  She is frequently crying about something, so the exact reasoning escapes my mind by now.  Emerson was crying because he left his shoes out in the rain, and didn't want to wear wet shoes.  In this household, when you leave your shoes out in the rain, you wear them and hopefully remember to put them in the next time.  Besides, in this household, each person only has one pair of shoes that can possibly fit each purpose.  Emerson said I ought to buy him a second pair.  So Hibiscus stopped crying, because Emerson was throwing an even bigger fit and I was threatening to carry him down to the bus if he didn't put his shoes on (which I would, so he did).  And it always feels good to be the virtuous one who is doing what Mama asks. Personally, I would be willing to have two virtuous children at the same time...



Household chores, mid-morning: I have a very large pile of laundry that has made it in off the line and needs to be folded, and another very large pile of laundry that has made it through the washer but needs to go on the line, if and when it stops raining.

And I realized why laundry suddenly seems so much more difficult: at the previous apartment, we rigged a clothesline on the covered porch for rainy days. At this place, the porch is much nicer, but not at all clothesline shaped.



Lunchtime: Today I needed to start finding a new apartment and getting ID cards, which I have been diligently doing by sitting around responding to American correspondence and writing blog posts all morning. The apartment manager just dropped by, as I requested by text, thought about it, and realized he knew of a place around the corner we could move to.  He's meeting his cousin later, will speak to the other apartment manager, and drive us over this afternoon or tomorrow, and if that doesn't work out he'll speak to someone else.  Also, he will send the LC official to drop by, who would love to make us all ID cards, and he was obviously very pleased with me for wanting to register properly in the district.

The secret to getting things done in Uganda isn't industriousness, it's knowing the right people and waiting patiently.



Mid-afternoon:  I called the lawyer.  She reports that she had just contacted someone in the judge's office, and the judge was proofreading our guardianship order.  As in, it has already been written.  Hopefully the lawyer will be able to pick it up tomorrow, and with that in hand we can start the next thing!  However, the lawyer doesn't think that the LC officials will make ID cards for children.

Also, I put Buttercup up for a wrap-nap.  She managed to stay lively for a while, but then she faded on my back.  It has been cool all day, even though the rain has faded.  We wore our snuggly kapok wrap and put it in a snuggly carry, and it felt like a lovely snuggle in a lovely blanket with a lovely person.  While making phone calls and folding laundry.  Just one of those moments that is both quotidian, and then you realize how special the quotidian is.


Later in the mid-afternoon: The kids got home, and immediately opened negotiations with the children through the fence, which sounded something like "give us our cat back!"  They did.

The kids are chasing the kitten around, wanting it to climb in boxes, eat something, play with a ball, play with a clothespin, play with a string, come over to them, run behind, and on and on and one. Whenever the kitten does something (or doesn't do something) they jump and squeal and yell. I feel like all this energy would be much better suited to a canine companion.

We happen to have some canine companions with way too much energy, in fact, but they are not available to absorb the kid energy.  Which is really too bad, because they are getting into all kinds of trouble at home.  As in, the home back in Oregon.  Someone at the meeting yesterday asked, half-jokingly, if I was about ready to claim Uganda when people ask where I live.  I think it's about getting to that point, and I'm starting to think of it as "Oregon home" and not just plain old "home."


Dinner time: I am cooking tuna noodle casserole for six; another adopting father and his brother-in-law are coming to join us for dinner.  The children are practically upsidedown with excitement, except for Hibiscus, who actually is upsidedown.

Then our landlord comes back with the LC1 Chairman, who is very pleased to meet me and know that I want to register in the village.  I fill out paperwork for our family, and he shows me the ID cards that he will official-ize for us.  For all of us?  Yes, indeed, for everyone.  I write and occupations on the cards, and the older children hover around and then sign theirs.  I debated what to put for the girls' names, since I know everything has to match and have their Ugandan names.  But neither of them want to be called by their Ugandan names, and Hibiscus hates hers with a passion that would threaten to combust the ID card with the force of her gaze.  I put their American names in front of the Ugandan ones, and that is what Hibiscus signs.  She has completely forgotten how to write her Ugandan name, which I feel like is not a coincidence or a sign of not being able to hold things in her mind.  Now we just have to have ID photos taken, and bring some to the council official tomorrow, along with a fee for the paperwork filing.  I have a feeling that he loves putting the seal on and laminating the cards so they will not get spoiled by the rain, as he carefully describes every step, and how quickly he will get them to me.  That's okay; I'm pretty excited about ID cards too.  Especially with a nice official seal on them.

And the landlord will drive me over to the other place in the morning.



We eat dinner.  It is yummy.  I manage to keep Hibiscus from talking the entire time, and confidentially advise her that when adults are around, the children don't get to talk as much as usual.  Because "usual" means just one of me, and I am not nearly as garrulous as my children.  Either that, or I am more tired.  Anyway, tonight we have an actual conversation.

Also, my husband has worried whether I am sharing too much about the girls' life in these blogs, and that one day they would not want this information bandied about.  I am very cautious about what I write, but apparently I'm the only one.  Hibiscus says something about her birth family, notices that people are listening to her, and barrels like a freight train into all the most dramatic stories she can think of.  Luckily, the conversation moved on before she got too far, but I sense that if her future self wants any information withheld, it had better commune with her present self pretty much immediately.


After dinner Emerson and Hibiscus demonstrated for us the song, poem, and dances that they are practicing at school for their performance on Sunday.  As a performing arts teacher, I thoroughly condone having lots of mini-performances, so I allowed their little dramatic hearts to take center stage.  I am really impressed by how much they know, and that they are clearly being coached very carefully and specifically.  However, I think I will encourage Hibiscus to practice her poem every night from now on!

Then there was some general chaos, and I could speak quietly with the other dad for a few minutes.  Dinner with the rabble had not made him faint of heart, and he still is willing to stay with the girls while Emerson and I leave the country to get new visas.  So we solidified that into something a little bit closer to a plan, although we are both still waiting on all this nebulous paperwork, so the plan will stay vague until we know more.  The only clear plan I have at this point is the kids' school performance on Sunday.  It seems to me that they have been working a lot harder on that, than anything else has been working at all!


And I think the kitten went back home again.

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.

We Won't Be Home For Christmas

We won't be home for Christmas.  We won't be home in 2013.  The Ugandan visas will expire before the American ones materialize.  We need a new apartment.

I just re-arranged my schedule and spent the afternoon driving back and forth down Ggaba Rd to go to an adoptive parent meeting at the American Embassy, to which children were not allowed.  That is not a very welcoming policy, and it was not a very nice meeting.  An American woman stood up and went through the bullet points on her powerpoint presentation at lightening speed.  Since she would only talk about "generalities" and almost anything anyone could ask sounded like a "specific case," as would giving an example for anything she said, there was not much reason to pause.  So now I know a smiling face inside the imposing Embassy building, as my networking husband suggested... and it was crystal clear exactly how little help or empathy I can expect.

So I have been waiting and waiting for all these months for a few papers, and now the point of getting papers is close at hand; we expect the judge to complete the guardianship orders any day now.  But then we need more and more layers of papers.  This is the point where most prospective parents arrive, and are advised to wait patiently.  And wait patiently some more.

After we get the guardianship orders, we can apply for Ugandan passports.  That will take about a week.  When we have photo ID, such as passports, we can take the girls for a medical examination at the IOM.  Within another week or so, they will forward the results to the American Embassy.  Once we have the passports, the guardianship orders, and the IOM results, we can email the Embassy for an appointment.  This is a checking-your-paperwork appointment, and they just look over the paperwork and advise you on whether it is complete or not.  They only have those appointments on Monday and Wednesday mornings.  Then they can schedule you for another complete appointment to evaluate whether the children can earn two really boring-sounding pieces of paper with names like DM-260 or something like that, which mean the children can actually enter our beautiful but very exclusive country.  They only schedule those appointments on Monday and Wednesday afternoons.  If you just so happened to have all your paperwork, everyone who needs to testify is ready to show up, and there is no one else scheduled, they could hypothetically schedule you for the same afternoon.

If no one else was already scheduled.  In one of her less hypothetical statements, the presenter said that during busy times the wait can be up to two weeks (or maybe three).  And that December is a busy time.  That is ALMOST like saying the current wait time is at least two weeks between the preliminary and the main appointment.

If there is even one tenth of one percent of a doubt in her mind that the case is not clearly approvable and the children meet all the criteria for both sets of boringly-named papers, then she sends the case to Nairobi, and then followed a bunch of details about how long it takes to compile paperwork and for it to sit in the mail, and then on a desk in Nairobi.  But let's ignore that, because one thing I have learned in this journey is to take problems as they come up and not worry about them beforehand.  So we have gotten to waiting and having this second appointment scheduled, at which the presence is firmly REQUIRED of one adoptive parent, the children in question, and ANY AND ALL living birth parents, and possibly other relatives although they wouldn't be able to tell you whether or not they were needed in advance.  Then, if you have managed to guess correctly at all the things they will need to see and they decide there is not even one tenth of one percent of a doubt, then you wait TWO DAYS for the visa and "travel packet."  There are NO EXCEPTIONS to the two days part.  It takes two days. That would be two.

(She would not discuss specific cases, but she was quite emphatic on the general points.)

The "travel packet" is for US customs officials on the point of entry (she discussed what a point of entry was), and it must be still sealed.  Apparently, this requires not only refraining from opening them oneself, but potentially guarding them from over-zealous Ugandan customs officials.  It is recommended to carry a bagazillion other papers in order to convince the Ugandan customs officials that you are allowed to take the children with American visas to America.

We had previously heard that the US Embassy is not taking a full Christmas break, and will be open on all the days that aren't the official holidays, which leaves the 23rd and 30th as Mondays for appointments.  But it turns out that they are not hosting appointments on the 23rd and 30th.  Thus, there are two weeks with no appointments available, which looks a little bit like a taking a two-week holiday.  That also means that there are exactly three days left in the entire month of December during which they are hosting appointments, which would be tomorrow, and next Monday and Wednesday.  Which means that if we managed to be handed the guardianship papers tonight, and took the week for getting the IOM reports and passports simultaneously (and they don't go simultaneously), that we could be told next Wednesday that we would have to wait two weeks for an appointment.  But the two weeks we were waiting would be in January.


And after the meeting I stopped at the supermarket for yogurt and juice, which get kind of heavy to carry up hills while also carrying the local three-year-old, so are worthwhile to buy on a hired-car-day.  Then I picked up all the children from school, and paid some extra for leaving Buttercup there.  I told the kids the sad news, but some more long waiting sounds pretty much like business as usual for them and they mostly just sang a weird little song about jelly.  As we got home, the raggle-tag bunch of children in the house next door started yelling through the hedge, and my children went over and yelled at them back.  And the they threw something through the hedge at us.  What is the randomest thing you can imagine getting thrown through a hedge?

A cat.  So now we have a raggle-tag little kitten crouched under our outdoor sink, and my kids have spent the last hour or so hovering over the poor little creature, and begging me to let them feed it everything under the sun and especially lots of dishes of milk.  They have also carried the kitten back and forth, put him in a tree (and taken him down, I think), made him a bed, brought balls to play with him, and read him a number of books. (Unless it's a her.)  Emerson reports that the cat asked for water to be poured in his bed (???), Hibiscus reports that the cat just said "EEEE," and Buttercup comes running back and forth to report that there is a cat, and that there is still a cat, and continues to be a cat (these are the various updates).  I am not sure if my sad motherly heart is open to being sad for this poor little skinny creature, or if I have enough of being motherly and am ready to throw him back over the fence -- very gently, I don't actually throw animals -- but my children are more open-hearted and generous than I am.  "Look, now the kitten loves us!" they report.

How I love those children.


I was girding my heart to be ready to stay longer, but hearing it as a fact is still painful.  I love my husband too, and overall I would have much preferred my own, pre-domesticated and fully vaccinated cats.  But I'm glad the children can find joy in raggle-tag Ugandan kittens, too.  Because I like seeing them find joy, and because those are the only kind of cats we'll be seeing for a while.

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.