Tuesday, June 14

Today we have planned a visit to our birthmother's home. We're excited and nervous and all that goes with meeting the whole family. Sure, we saw a lot of them outside when we were there Saturday, but we weren't really introduced or interacting.

We started out slower than normal. Grace went down early last night, at 8:30PM, and didn't stir until 4AM this morning. She went back to sleep, as she does, and didn't wake again until almost 8AM. From then on she was pretty much awake until lunch time.

We lounged in the room until housekeeping gave an excuse to get out. We decided to go with a low-key breakfast in the restaurant, and then stayed cool in the room watching a marathon of Mythbusters. It was raining a practical tropical storm out there, so much so that it got hard to see the ships in the lagoon. Sometimes it was hard to see the lagoon.

Claire made final adjustments and packaged the gifts into bags to hand out during our visit. We were eventually again prompted by housekeeping, who hadn't returned while we were at breakfast. We quickly changed into less lounging, more visiting, and rain appropriate clothes. We decided to visit the restaurant and have an iced tea or something while we waited for our CAA translator to arrive. We sent Claudia a text, warning that we were in the restaurant and not the room. She responded with a “whoops, forgot,” and that Donna was on her way. About a half hour later, our birthmother came in the room tapping her wrist where her watch would have been if she had one. We were still early for the 2PM she told us yesterday, but it was still funny she was trying to keep us to a schedule.

Donna was waiting in her car outside the hotel, with the birthmother's other girls. We all piled in and she drove us across the street and behind the hardware store, to the house. Yeah, it's about a two-block walk. We could have gone ourselves, but without knowing exactly who would be there, or what the protocol would be for visiting, we wanted to have some help. It worked out to be vital, as no other English-speaker was there; bubu was out to pick up jimma from his day job for the visit. We were invited in. We took off our shoes at the door, as is the custom, and were directed to sit in the only two chairs.

Looking back, I realize I had a little bit of the description of the home wrong. It's a one-story, cinderblock structure, about twenty feet wide, with the door in the middle and a window on either side of it, a larger one to the left as you face the door. The room we were in spanned the whole width of the home, and ran about twelve feet deep, to a wall made of plywood. The wall ran most of the length of the room, opening into a room we never entered. Next to that opening was another door to the outside. On either end of the big room was another window. The windows all had that window-blind kind of glass covering, and outside of that was quarter-inch mesh, offering a little protection from bigger critters and debris. Because of the rain, most of the louvers were closed. The floor was tile with linoleum, and except for being sparsely furnished, it was spotlessly clean inside. The ceiling was also plywood, and right over my shoulder dripped a little in the rain, leading me to believe it was directly beneath and not protected from the corrugated roof.

In the corner to the left, against the inner wall and opposite the other door, was a television, and a bunch of kids sat on the floor in front of it watching cartoons. Next to the television was what looked like a chest and cooler, on which everyone else would sit, if they didn't sit on the floor. The kids for the most part hugged the wall or sat or leaned on the chest and cooler, watching us from afar. Our birthmother had Grace and was running around cooing with her and showing her off to everyone in the house, and occasionally she'd duck out the other door and we could hear her chatting with other people.

After a few minutes, bubu drove up in their car and said she couldn't bring jimma as he had some meetings to attend, and he would make his way home and join us as soon as he could. A little banter happened, and Donna excused herself to tend to other CAA tasks. Since we're comfortable with bubu, and had her to translate, we were comfortable and thanked her for the help she had provided.

We got the first of many rounds of introductions. Other than jimma, only the two older boys, our birthmother's half-brothers, were missing. Our birthmother's girls, of course, were there, and her sister was there, and her four kids, and bubu's other kids, including one she adopted in the Marshallese custom from her cousin, or some such.

We learned that the house is full of kids coming and going, friends and relatives. They'll ebb and flow in their cycles between this and other neighbor houses. The older kids just tend to the younger kids. At night, they'll correctly end up at the right house.

They don't have any bedrooms, but just sprawl out on the floor, which is why the room isn't filled with furniture, and why they keep the floor so clean. I wanted to ask if they had some kind of mat or papasan (I think that's what the Japanese call them), or if they just sprawled out on the floor, but I wasn't sure if that would be weird. If it's what you do, it's what you do, is what I learned from the guys at the beach.

Claire, now introduced to everyone, confirmed who everyone was, using that as an excuse to pass out the gifts. They're mostly novelties; Matchbox cars, crayons, pencils, some hair things for the girls, and like that. Claire shared that we hadn't known how many kids, or how old, or anything like that, so we were just sharing some stuff a kid at home might get.

As she passed the packages out, she also received a bag filled with earrings, and a couple mounted necklace and earring sets that the family members had made. Curiously, it was immediately shared that if they weren't to Claire's taste, it would be acceptable to try to trade them for something at a handicraft shop that she liked more. Later Claire learned that's evidently a frequent and common practice. Of course, she said she'd do no such thing, since these were far more special since they'd made them, far outshining the bits and baubles we'd picked up.

The kids opened the packages, which were met with all of the glee kids have when they get stuff. The cars were a great hit with everyone. We'd heard that all of the kids like them, so essentially everyone got a car in their bag. Another hit was a plastic Slinky; we only had one, so Claire gave it to the older of the young boys. Evidently they hadn't heard it's a wonderful, wonderful toy. They thought it was pretty neat as a thing that stretched and recoiled. I showed them how to make it “rainbow” from one hand to another, which was quite amusing, and then I showed them how it liked to walk steps. There weren't any readily available steps, so we made a short stack out of some crayon boxes and coloring books. That was quite a hit for quite a while.

As the time passed, we kind of broke into three groups of people. Claire was hanging with bubu by the chest and cooler, our birthmother sat by the door with her sister and another friend, and I settled on the floor, each of us surrounded by a fluctuating selection of kids.

I became a bit of a hit with the kids, especially after showing some Slinky skills. I won some over when they brought me the little books we'd given them, laughing when I named the things they pointed at. I helped show them how to make a little ramp and launch the cars in a race down the ramp using a pencil to ensure a fair start. They also found it wonderful to put crayon to coloring book. I tried to encourage them to do the same, but for most of them it seemed more important to watch me color.

Claire in the meantime chatted with bubu some more, including getting a language lesson in Marshallese, trying to learn to count to ten. Her attempts to say the numbers caused playful laughter by all of the Marshallese speakers, especially the kids, for whom counting to ten seems trivial, of course.

Our birthmother held Grace just about the whole time. She at one time needed a diaper change, which Claire did. Grace also needed a bit of bottle, which I started her with, as she didn't settle down enough for anyone else to do. Other than those bits, she mostly slept, but was held and rocked just about the whole time.

After a while, jimma came in, and we re-introduced ourselves, having met him just once in passing that first day we met bubu in the restaurant. Bubu gave him his package, and he unwrapped a Twins hat. Claire explained that we are kind of Minnesota proud sports fans, rooting for our home teams, and shared that the TC on the hat was the logo for the Twins baseball club, and pointing out the blond Vikings head logo on the backpack we'd given the birthmother with her novelties in it.

After another little while, one of the older boys came in, and was tossed his gift. He disappeared outside, and then behind the plywood wall, and eventually came out wearing his new tee-shirt with the same Vikings logo, proudly showing off its perfect fit. He gave us a few kommel tatas (Marshallese for “thank you”) and disappeared with his friends again, sporting his new Minnesota proud sports fan look.

One thing I either introduced to them, or simply terrified them with, was a little playful child tumbling. At one point, the older of our birthmother's kids was being really close. Not uncomfortable or anything, but sitting on my lap as we played with the other kids with the cars and Slinky. She was getting crowded by the other kids, so I picked her up and held her over my head. She laughed and everyone giggled with her, but she kept a shy distance after that. Another time, I picked up one of the older girls, about 12 or so, and gave her a cheerleader kind of twirl upside down. She was apparently happily surprised, but hid over by bubu, who was laughing with and at her, for a while while she sorted out what had happened. One last time I tried, with one of the girls who was particularly interested in my knowledge of crayons and characters in coloring books, tipping her upside-down, standing her on the ceiling. She, unlike the others, was tickled at this, and didn't shy away, although she didn't want to be upended again.

My kids, and many other kids I've lifted and twisted and tumbled and thrown through the air (into water, of course), thoroughly enjoyed this, often asking for more. Usually until I'm worn out, but sometimes until some other distraction occurs. Probably just a great difference in play-time, since we're evidently a nation of thrill-seekers, and they are much more inclined to laugh at the names of things.

Around this time, during a diaper change or check or some kind of fussiness handling, Grace spit up all over Claire, and before it was noticed had dribbled on bubu, too. We cleaned it up, with all of the appropriate apologies and “it happens.” We used it as a queue that Grace had enough, and with a lull in the action and conversation, took our leave.

Our birthmother took Grace for some last cuddles, and playfully held her waving good-bye to us, as if she were staying. We played along, but, of course, she left with us. Hugs and head-pats were given, and we accepted a ride from bubu back to the hotel. It was still raining, and, you know, it was better for the baby.

As we were leaving we realized that we hadn't made a plan for a next visit. Bubu offered to pass on something to our birthmother, and suggested maybe Friday. Claire has a couple things going in the next couple days, so that suited us. We've got unconfirmed plans now for noon on Friday, we'll host lunch. I threw out for her to bring the kids, but I'm not sure if it was heard, or how it would be interpreted. As I pulled myself from the car and shut the door, bubu took off with just a wave.

We ran into the other birthmother with her son in the hall outside the other adopting mother's room as we passed, and we exchanged greetings. She speaks pretty good English, and she casually asked where we were and how our day was going. We told her we were visiting their home and that we had a good time. She said she was visiting, and they were also having a good time. We all chuckled and we made our way to our room.

We changed Grace (and Claire) out of spit-up on clothes, and made a diaper change. The other adopting mother knocked on the door and came in asking how our visit was. She'd been there on Saturday when we dropped the family off, and was curious what lay behind the green walls. We told her all about it. She shared about her visit with her birthmother, which seemed to go well, too. They also have plans for Friday, and we suggested maybe we could make it easier on everyone by doing it together if time works out.

We decided that dinner sounded like a good idea, and set out for the restaurant. We decided to try eating outside, since the falling rain had lowered the temperature or humidity to a comfortable level. It was all fine until our food arrived, and the flies appeared for their share. There were only a dozen or so flies, but when two of three are tending to infants, that's about a dozen or so too many. Claire took my Chicken Adobo and covered it while I fed Grace. When she finished her Tuna Tenders, she took over tending Grace and allowing me to eat. The other boy is a few months older and sat in a highchair, not needing quite the hands-on tending.

After eating enough, and having enough of the flies, we decided to take our kids in for the night. Loose plans were made for tomorrow, and we said our good-nights.

We returned to our room, where Grace was neither sleepy or hungry, and after a diaper change, was also dry, but still fussy. She'd take being held or put down or switched around to different positions or parents, but wouldn't settle for long when she was momentarily satisfied or distracted. After an attempt to hold her outside, where she likes the extra heat and humidity, I took her and she took about a half-ounce from a bottle and fell asleep. She slept for about an hour on my chest, where she had drifted off while being burped, and giving a good burp. I let her stay there while watching some television, while Claire poked around on the Mac.

After a while, my chest got hot, and I figured Grace was deep sleeping enough, so I put her in her bed. I decided to snack on some cookies we have. I sat down after putting them on a napkin, and just as I picked one up again, the swarm of tiny ants that were on them tried to escape on the napkin. What a bummer. I checked the other cookie container, and it was likewise swarmed. I tossed the bunch, and cleared the shelf, checking the other food stuffs. There were ants on the shelves, but they seemed interested only in the cookies, and their evidently loose plastic container, and an after dinner caramel that Claire'd brought back from the Stonehouse last week. I tossed the bunch, and the ant covered napkins, and put the trash bag (tied so the ants wouldn't escape and warn the hive) in a trash bin outside.

During this, or perhaps in part because of the rise of ant-condemning conversation, Grace fussed without waking. After determining she wasn't just going to settle back in, I brought her back out and rested her on my chest again until she slept. I then popped her on her tummy next to Claire on the other sofa. Bummed about my cookies, I set into some more Discovery Channel television.

After enough time poking around on the Mac, Claire decided she was tired, so she turned in. I took Grace back into her bed, and grabbed the Mac for a little Internet check-in, and some catching up on the journal.

Next for me, after making sure Bear makes it out of his self-rescue safely, is a good night's sleep, too.