The Boys Are Here!

I arrived home Thursday evening July 31 with Arman Murat Smith, age 6, and Kuat Zhaylauhan (to be renamed Yerik Zhaylauhan), age 14 months. Our boys are officially Amerikan citizens (yes, I misspelled it, but because of a certain little 6 yr. old boy who asked me again and again on the 27 hour trip home if he was really going to "Amerika", it seems the appropriate spelling at the moment). One of our Kazakh drivers told Arman to be a good boy in Amerika and he would get everything a boy could possibly dream of, including a brand new car on his 16th birthday. Now I don't know about the new car, as Kressant just turned 16, and while she has a car it is far from new and doesn't even run! The old silver Taurus sits in the back yard waiting for Alan to get around to rebuilding the engine for her, but he is busy boy, dashing off here and there, and of course, he turned 20 on the day his two new brothers arrived.

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The trip home was exhausting, as I could not sleep for it's entirety with little Yerik in my arms, and I had kept way too much carry-on luggage making all plane changes a real-time marathon. Bret waited in the Atlanta airport for 2 hours; of course plenty of passengers from our flight made it up to the final luggage pickup in less than 1/2 an hour, but coming into the country with newly adopted foreign children requires a few more steps in the entry process. And try doing it all with a baby in a pack, who has to be removed at every security checkpoint, way too much carry-on luggage, a 6 yr. old boy who cannot walk very fast nor carry very much, and you must all be dead-dog tired at the same time! Have various pieces of paperwork available in your hands to be presented at different desks, and wonder why you have so much more at the end of the journey to carry than what you began with. The Lufthansa personnel gave the baby a couple of small rattles, and I bought Alan a couple of small items in the Frankfurt airport, but those minor additions still do not explain why I couldn't get anywhere near fitting our possessions into the bags I had brought it all in by the time we arrived at Atlanta, and I dropped things at regular intervals in the airports. Various different businessmen assisted me here and there, but usually with a wry comment that "you are carrying too much." Thank you very much, I knew it well. At the last security checkpoint in Atlanta (after more than a dozen in the 27 hours preceding), I was instructed to remove my and Arman's shoes. I promptly took mine off and made the security personnel an offer: they could take Arman's shoes off themselves if it was really required. Security declined and passed the child on through.

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Arman's excitement upon getting off the plane in Atlanta cannot be explained by my prompting or excitement, as I was truly too worn out to exhibit much, especially after our plane slammed down hard on the Hartsfield runway sending up a collective gasp from the entire passenger cabin. I will always marvel how this little boy, understanding so very little English, accompanied by his new mama whose Russian is inadequate to discuss much more than whether or not he wants to go outside and play or needs to visit the toilet (and try doing that on an airplane with a 6 yr. old and a baby in your arms, and no, Arman cannot hold the baby by himself!), understood the significance of his arrival on US soil, but folks, he did! He was wiggling like a puppy, smiling the widest smile of the entire trip and repeating "Amerika, Papa, Da?" along with a few other words in his Russian which may very well be as bad as mine. He is enchanted with his new family and they with him and his baby brother. He also had asked me repeatedly on the airplane if "Kuatchik" (the name baby Yerik is called by everyone is Kazakhstan) was going to Amerika with us. He was truly delighted that the baby was going too. God bless his soul for that! The control for the movie/music in Arman's seat on that last 10 hour flight from Frankfurt was put through it's paces, and was still working, much to my surprise, when the plane landed. I suppose Lufthansa won't be sending me a bill for it's replacement after all. I have discovered that a 6 yr. old boy can flush for entertainment for endless periods of time, and the light switches in our hotel room were way down low, where he could have a go at them for hours.

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The entire family-our house guest Becky included-accompanied me to Wally-world today, in hopes of running into dozens of friends who we could show the two boys off to, and we were not disappointed. Since arriving home in the good 'ole USA, I've had Bar-B-Q from Southern Pit, and made a batch of fudge and fried some onion rings, but haven't made much headway on the incredible pile of laundry awaiting me. Our girls truly did a remarkable job of cleaning up the travel trailer from our Tennessee mountain trip, and caring for the house while I was gone. Come see us, but don't expect a clean house, as we have lowered our standards just a wee bit and decided to have fun instead of cleaning non-stop. In fact, if you want to see the baby that I adopted, you had better come fast, because this little guy who seemed incapable of even flexing his arms and legs has now morphed into a crawling baby. The changes are coming rapidly and almost hourly. He can say "Mama"-guess who taught him that one! He prefers cups and breakable things to safe brightly-colored plastic toys, but things that make considerable noise seem to hold his attention best. My greatest surprise is that he can throw, something that he did repeatedly on the airplane, much to my amusement, but not that of my fellow passengers. At one point on the plane, the stewardess was pouring water into two cups for me and Arman as I held the cups. Baby Yerik shifted in my lap causing me to jerk to stabilize him, and my jerk tossed water over the seats in front of us all over the Hasidic Jew and extremely tall German man who no doubt weren't pleased to be in front of us and with an Iranian mother of three little ones beside him just across the aisle. That mother's youngest had screamed bloody-murder for the longest time, while I sat smugly with my two well-behaved children, but 10 hours is a long time in economy class, and my time with the screaming baby happened eventually. Arman added to the scene by constantly kicking his feet up against the seat in front of him. The cute little girl behind me kicked my seat repeatedly until I reached around and tickled them each time she did it, but the Jewish gentleman did nothing about his frequent jolts, and I regrettably suspect he will want a very small family, if any children at all. Just how DO you go about preventing such things in public places with a little boy who resorts to very loud crying whenever he can't do exactly as he pleases, and you haven't had the chance to teach him anything at all yet? My Iranian friend (10 hours in tight quarters, with squirming children gives you something in common very quickly) has lived in Atlanta for 10 years; her husband is an engineer at Atlanta Hartsfield airport. I bet she's the one who lost the Iranian money in the Frankfurt airport that I picked up and offered to whoever in sight would claim it, only to have no takers. Her children were almost as pretty as mine! Yerik does have his days and nights mixed up a bit and I am curious to see how long it will take before Kressant decides to disassemble that crib and move it into my bedroom, where I expected the thing to be anyway. Bethany already staked out a sleeping spot on the best couch downstairs, at the other end of the house from the staircase, but little baby Yerik's cry is really not very loud, at least not if you aren't in the same room with him in the middle of the night! Bret is having a bit of trouble with his back, and doesn't really know why or how he may have hurt it. Arman is a hefty weight, and Bret knows better than to try to lift him. I don't need any membership to the gym these days with my own little heavyweight guy to carry around. He isn't eating hardly anything, though, but bananas are always a hit with him. Baby Yerik on the other hand is light as a feather, but he is a very good eater, consuming more food than seems possible to stuff into the tiny body.

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