Thursday, June 23

Today we have a planned visit with our birthmother for more handicraft lessons. We're not sure what kind of aid group she'll arrive with, but we're hoping there's a few, because we have a bunch of cook-out stuff to make and eat.

Because of the late night, I ended up sleeping in until just before they were going to arrive. Well, just before they were scheduled to arrive. I contended that we had time to race to the restaurant, order and probably be done eating before they arrived. Especially given the island time delay with which they usually arrive. If they found us not in the room, they would know to look in the restaurant, but we could keep our eyes on the clock and at least one of us could be in the room if needed.

Claire pointed out that the way the universe worked, the one time we'd need them to be a little late, they probably would be on actual time. She offered me coffee and Cheerios instead, but I declined the Cheerios as we haven't yet cracked the box, but I did take some coffee. Actual time came and went, and island time won out. They arrived about an hour later than expected. Except for missing breakfast, all was well.

Our birthmother arrived with one of her daughters, Bertha (said as “bear-tah”), the one who's rather shy, or afraid of me, and her brother Steven (or Stephen or however), who I don't recall meeting until today. Shortly after, Junior and Charlie also arrived. We huddled in the room for a bit, the gals getting into the handicrafts right away, the fellas settled into one of the sofas. Steven was a little bit quicker on the translation help, noting sooner when it was apparent that something was likely to be or was actually getting missed.

Since they were late, or on-time in island time, it quickly came upon lunch time. Lunch preparation time, anyway. Since they occasionally have things going on where we thought to grill, I thought to check with the front desk to see if it was available. They sent me to the restaurant, as it's apparently under their control. I checked with my pal, Acme, and he checked the appointment book; all clear today, so he gave be the thumbs-up to use the space. I returned to the room and started gathering the grill and things to grill and sodas and cups and such. They boys sprung into action to give a hand and we carried stuff downstairs.

There's already a little grill area there, so I set our little portable guy up on it, and dumped the bit of charcoal left-over from the day at Laura beach into it. We were cooking dogs and beans, and later marshmallows for s'mores, but I wasn't sure we had enough to last too long. I realized that I'd forgotten matches. I tried throwing some small coral at our patio door, but it's too light to make it to the third floor and I didn't want to risk anything with a larger piece, so I ran the maze back to the room. I also grabbed styrofoam cups that I'd not brought, so we could drink some of the lemonade, that I had brought. I started the coals, with the help of lots of fluid, and set the beans over them to get a head start.

I chatted more with the boys, about the usual same stuff. They were a little interested in what things were like in the U.S. We talked about differences in fish, and sports, and trees. Steven said he really wanted to go to the U.S. when he was done with high school. I asked what he wanted to go for, and after a few tries, I thought he said “mechanics,” but even later he said he wanted to be a lawyer, so I'm not sure I heard him right, even though he had agreed with me. Maybe he wants to do both, or sees one as a necessary means to an end, or as a hobby...or maybe I just heard him wrong and rather than correct me, he agreed.

The coals were warm enough that I thought to put the dogs on. I noticed then I hadn't brought any dog-handling tools, so I ran back to the room for the metal tongs. I got back and set the dogs on the grill. I told the gals that we were maybe ten or so minutes away, as the dogs wouldn't take too long. I was asked to send a runner to fetch them when we were closer than that.

I explained to the fellas that we had to be careful at this point so we didn't loose one in the grill, “an offering to the grill gods,” I joked, which made them chuckle. I pointed out that the grill was a little small and unevenly heated, so we'd have to keep an eye on the dogs so they wouldn't get too hot in some parts and not hot enough in others. I showed them how to turn the dogs, and showed them what we were looking for as some close to the center had charred a little. I let them take turns turning and checking and rearranging the dogs, which seemed to tickle them a little. I'm not sure if they've had to (or been allowed to) cook anything, given their reaction to being asked to help.

As the dogs all approached well-charred, I asked one of them to run up and fetch the others. A little debate went between the boys, and Charlie took off trotting toward the room. We tried to set the dogs as far from the center as possible, and put the can of beans as close to the heat center as I could ascertain. After a few minutes the gals arrived, and I pulled the dogs off the grill. I realized I'd forgotten to order the cold stuff from the restaurant, so I went over to get some of the potato-macaroni salad and a couple pitchers of iced tea. Acme told me they'd bring it out right away, since it was all already made. (It never did show up.)

Everyone grabbed some food and drink, and “mmm, good” and thanks were passed around. There was plenty for everyone, so the boys dug in for seconds and thirds in some cases. As the first round of eating wound down, I broke out the marshmallows and started seeking sticks on which to poke them for grilling. Claire asked if it wasn't too soon as some people weren't done yet. I said that I was still just looking for sticks, but also didn't want to loose the coals, and that I thought it might take a show-and-tell or two before everyone got the knack.

Of course, I was thinking more to the case of a campfire, which is typically made with a roaring stack of wood, and in which many marshmallows are sacrificed by burning or melting into the fire before the right distance from the flame is learned. In our case, we were over a little table-top grill, with not quite enough charcoal to evenly heat the hotdogs, and from which there was barely enough heat to finish off the beans.

We found a few short sticks, and I stuck a marshmallow onto the end of it. I held it over the fading embers, but the surface barely got warmer than the breeze would allow. I warned the boys never to do what I was about to do, and I sprayed a bit more starting fuel on the embers, rushing a brief inferno into the air. This gave the guys quite a start, but also gave flame for long enough to char a marshmallow and demonstrate the construction of the treat. Everyone jumped at the chance to burn a puffed sugar cube an eat a decadent American fired dessert. Our birthmother excused herself to fetch her other daughter, and after a short time, Destiny joined us and also enjoyed the sugary treat.

The gals returned to the room for more handicraft work, and the guys took a little time picking up the area and bringing the remains to the room. Everyone settled in for post-meal relaxation. The gals did their handicraft and the guys watched some television. I changed, having not realized how hot it had been outside, and having soaked through parts of my shirt. I'd been wearing jeans to hide from the sun a little more, which were rather stifling, so I also switched to shorts. Since everyone seemed in a groove, I took the post-meal lull to jet across the street to fill our water jug.

After returning, I was asked to set up the Mac and show one of the cartoon movies we'd brought. The little (and bigger) kids seemed to enjoy the retelling of Rapunzel in Disney's Tangled, but got rather restless when we plugged in the super-villain and superhero movie, Megamind. The young girls wanted to take a dip in the pool, so I escorted all but the handicraft-doers, and they splashed around for a bit. When they were done, we made our way back up to the room.

I wasn't but a few steps behind them, but by the time I got into the room, a shower was running, and all of the swimmers seemed to be in the bathroom. It struck me as a little odd, but it occurred to me that they're both family and they do things differently here. I gathered some towels and made them available by putting them on the stand closest to the bathroom door. The girls came out first, and our birthmother interrupted her handicraft-making to dry them off and dress them in dry clothes she'd brought with. They didn't have swimwear, so they swam in whatever they were dressed in.

There was a bit of a fuss as showering wound down, although no one would let us in on it.  During part of this, Steven took Destiny for a change of clothes, and she returned without him. He hadn't been swimming with the other boys, or involved in the showering, either, so he was already dry and dressed, and therefore ready for the chore, I guess. There was a full-on kerfuffle in Marshallese, and our birthmother excused herself to take Destiny for a change of clothes. She returned and a little more handicraft work went on, and a little more television watching.

After a little while, everyone started feeling a little bit of the end of the day set in. They packed up the handicraft materials and were preparing to return home. Thanks for the lunch and movies and so on were given, but no one made a move for the door. Then it was asked if we were going to the restaurant. I wasn't really hungry, and we hadn't talked about taking everyone down, but we agreed, and all went to the restaurant. Before we went in, the boys ran the bag of handicraft supplies to their house and returned in time for ordering dinner.

Grace was a lot fussier than she has been on the trip. I joked it was because we were sitting in an unfamiliar part of the restaurant, against the inner wall instead of closer to the windows, and that the ceiling was different enough to bother her. She was just overly tired from the day of interaction, and after a couple wanderings outside in the warm and quiet with Claire, she returned to the restaurant asleep as usual. Food arrived and everyone ate.

During the dinner conversation, we learned that the basketball game that wasn't played due to the collapsing gym roof was going to be replayed on Monday “at the church,” wherever that is. More accurately, we'd heard it before, but had a little bit more time to talk about it at dinner. We said if we were still here, and they got more details to us, we'd probably still go to the game and cheer for them.

Left-overs were boxed, no one wanted dessert, and after they finished, the boys took off for home. Our birthmother and her girls stuck around for a while longer. Bubu was working, and she brought us a bowl  of Ma chips. Ma (said more like “may” but with more if a “my” ending...I can't quite nail it down) is a breadfruit that grows on the island. Breadfruit, coconuts, and fish are about the only natural resources the island offers. The ma chips are made by thinly slicing the fruit (think cheese slices), then quartering the slices, and deep frying them. Add a little salt, cool a little bit, and serve 'em like potato chips. They are quite tasty, and addicting. Although we'd finished our dinner, and were frankly still stuffed with hotdogs and s'mores, we ate about the whole bowl ourselves. We were told not to share with the boys, I thought teasingly, but they didn't want any anyway, citing that they have them all of the time and were stuffed with all of the other food, too. After dinner died down, the boys took off for parts unknown.

Bubu came and sat with us and chatted with us and our birthmother about the day. She'd been by early in the meal, when Grace had been really fussy, but didn't seem nonplussed by it, and accepted our apologies with our evidence of sleeping Grace beside us.

We arranged something open for Sunday. We figured we'd see bubu at the restaurant before the end of the weekend. We also were sure we'd probably be here over the weekend, believing that unless we miraculously received our papers tomorrow, we wouldn't hear from the embassy until Monday.

Even if they don't stick to their “no effort off hours” idea for very long, they're surely going to stick to it at least as long as we're still here. Sore losers hold grudges, don't they? And curmudgeons who know they're doing the wrong thing. Otherwise, I guess, it isn't a grudge, but instead a victor's whim of some kind. I can't think of a clever opposite to grudge at the moment.

Everyone said their good-nights, and we all went to where we needed to be. Our birthmother and girls went home, bubu returned to her duties in the nearly empty restaurant, and we returned to our room.

We put Grace in her bed, and she barely snorted. Claire checked her e-mail, and we learned that the other adopting mother's visa had been sent from Manilla. Curiously, the trip for the package from Manilla to Majuro doesn't take the one hop through Guam that it took to get there. Instead, the message said it would go via Singapore, Hong Kong, and South Korea before making it to Guam and finally here. There was no mention that our visa had been sent, though. The message said “sometimes it happens that way,” but we're hopeful (but not naively so) that our package has also been sent, but the information just hadn't made it with the other notice.

Claire also had a one-liner e-mail from the Department of Homeland Security that informed us that our visa request had been approved yesterday. This furthered our hope that the shipping information was just incomplete. There's no real reason to believe that they'd necessarily be processed at the same time, or shipped together, even though we submitted them on the same day at the embassy here.

While we're anxious to get home, we're also together, and a little more patient with these things than the other adopting mother. She's been here alone for the last three weeks, well, she and her son. She's been very appreciative of our company, but certainly misses her family more than she enjoys our company. She's been being a good sport with us about the embassy faux pas, and has followed our lead and has left the embassy to their business. Well, there was one phone call.

We've been trying to respect the process, and trust that the embassy is truly going to do their best to be as responsive as we need, and act as soon as they get the packages from the delivery service. Our agency has told us that contacting and badgering the embassy doesn't help. Gordon, our attorney in the matter, has told us not to call and bother them. Previous families have told stories about how their repeated attempts at contact do nothing to speed the process.

Except for trying to help the other mother, with the sick kid, try to get their package from a late Friday arrival, we've kept our distance from the embassy. And really all that involved was (arguably inappropriately) calling the embassy dude's wife to ask her to let her hubby know the situation; he'd not responded to repeated calls the day they learned their package would be arriving after embassy hours, and they just wanted to get it sooner so they could leave the next day instead of later the next week, as those were the flights with room for them. It was a gap of five days between flights with room. It wasn't just the difference of five more days in the country, but five more sick-kid days.

I've been hopeful that our lack of calling will be noticed, and whatever kind of grudge there might be will be forgotten once someone realizes we've done the right thing. And also that in hindsight, the actions and reactions of both sides of that interaction were wrong, and it all could have been handled better.

Still, it was refreshing to receive even just an e-mail confirmation of the approval of our request. We still don't know about the shipping status of our visa, but it's a relief just to know that the request hasn't been rejected, or additional information requested, or some kind of further verification or validation needed. There should be no added delay, at least in processing the request. They just need to get it to us.

It was hard, but between the long, active day, and the late, but good news, we managed to turn in without running downstairs at midnight to tell the other adopting mother. There isn't anything she could do, and waking her with the news would probably just disrupt her (seemingly rare) sleep, and then add anxiety to her subsequent restless night.