The Picture That Was Two Years In The Making - With Commentary

Being home is such a fabulous thing. There's just nothing like it in the whole world. I can't wait until it becomes home for Suzannah, too.

But let me finish our story.

When last I truly blogged, Suzannah and I were packed and ready to go. I was amazed I was able to sleep that night! I woke up before the alarm Saturday morning, but I didn't mind, as it gave me some time to read email, etc. before I needed to get Suzannah up and ready. As it was, I was still shoveling oatmeal into her mouth when our driver arrived to take up to the airport. We had a different driver - Sasha - and oh, he was such a delightful host. He talked eaily all the way to the airport, sharing stories about the drive, the sights, his visits to the States, whatever. It was almost enough to make me wish I could stay in Moscow another day or so, just to have him show us the sight. Almost being the operative word ;-)

Getting to the gate at Sheremetyevo (sp?) was the usual joy, only complicated by doing it while dealing with a very curious girlie. For those who've never had the experience, let me tell you how it goes. First you have to wait for your flight to show up on the master board. You can't go through security or anything until your flight is on the board - usually about 3 hours ahead. Once your flight is listed, you have to enter the secure area, where all your bags are put through an x-ray machine and stickered. You pile your bags back on your trolley, then wait in line to talk to a person who seems to be a pre-screener. You must show your documents (passport, visa, sometimes the hotel registration which is required, whatever.) Your passport number is recorded and you answer questions about your bags - the usual things about who packed them, any weapons, etc. Then you push your trolley over to long tables where grim-faced workers snap on rubber gloves and hand inspect the luggage you're checking. Maybe the carry-on, too - I'm trying to block the memories :-) Once your dirty unmentionables have been thoroughly checked for size, brand, and level of grossness, you can pack your things back onto the trolley and go stand in another line, where you finally check in for your flight.

But you're not done yet! There's still Passport Control to clear. Lucky for us, we had a very nice lady who inspected all our documents, yelled at the Very Important Man who kept trying to crowd into the booth behind us, and had a grand time waving at Suzannah. She had to go through all our papers (except, of course, for the Magic Envelope received at the consulate which can only be opened by US Immigration), so we were with her for quite a while. I bet the Very Important Man was sorry he parked his impatient butt behind us!

Having cleared Passport Control, it's time for the walk to the gate. This isn't so bad, but it becomes a bit disorienting when you pass your third version of the same duty-free shop and start to wonder if your gate has been kidnapped. Once you make it to the gate - at least to the one that serves flights to the U.S. - you get to have your carry-on luggage screened yet again. Why? I don't know. And once you enter that gate area, leaving becmes night-on impossible. You're trapped in a not-so-big room with only one vending machine and I believe no bathrooms. This is why no one wants to enter the gate area until the last minute, which means that when you do go through, there's yet another long line.

But finally, we were on the plane. Wooohooo! Our friends from the consulate, Judy and her two adorable boys, were sitting in the row behind us, but on the other side of the plane. Bummer. Suzannah didn't fuss about her seatbelt nearly as much this time. She still didn't like it, but it didn't lead to the horrendous melt-downs of the flight from Astrakhan.

The flight was ... well ... long. All in all, though, she did a fabulous job. She wasn't thrilled with any of the airline food, so her main fuel for the journey was 3 huge bananas and a bunch of crackers. Oh, and cherry tomatoes were a hit, too. But she was quite happy for quite a while simply standing in the seat and looking all around. She didn't like the bathroom at all, and going there led to one major meltdown.

Our only real problem on the flight was the guy across the aisle, who took it upon himself to critique my parenting skills when I was trying to get her to sleep. I was holding her, rocking her, trying to get her to settle & give in to a nap. She, of course, fought and wailed. After a few minutes, Jerko said, "She doesn't want to sleep. Why are you trying to force her?"

Now, the correct respone would have been either (a)She doesn't want to wear her seatbelt, either, but she has to do that, or (b) This may come a shock to you, but you're not helping. But I made the mistake of trying to explain - through gritted teeth - that we were two hours past naptime and we either listened to 10 minutes of crying now, or a lot more of it when she fell into an overtired tantrum. Jerko decided this was a cue for debate time! He's questioning my statements, I'm telling him I have 5 kids and I think I know what I'm doing, he's SCOFFING at me - and finally I slid across the seat, said, Here, honey, this man is the expert and he knows exactly how to help you, and plopped her on his lap.

He didn't back down - I doubt that particular skill was in his repertoire - but he sure deflated fast. Then I took her back, turned my butt squarely in his direction, and cuddled her close. She was asleep in two minutes.

(Evil woman that I am, I stayed in butt-first direction long after she settled, hoping against hope for an attack of severely nasty flatulence. Alas, no luck.)

Finally, after a few ice ages had passed, we landed. Woooohooo!

Immigration was a fun experience. We met up with Judy and her boys, and apparently were having too much fun as we waited for our turn, because we were politely but tersely asked to please be quiet. Ooops. But were were processed very quickly, and within 15 - 20 minutes we were out of there, ready to grab our bags and start another round of load the trolley/unload the trolly as we went through new and joyous paths of security. By the time we made it up to the gate levels we were both hot, sweaty, and totally ready to hit the nearest bar (well, at least I was). We had kids with us, though, so we settled for a trip to the bathroom and a visit to Burger King. Suzannah had her first french fries! She wasn't very impressed - but then, they weren't the hottest fries in the warmer. And at this point it was at least 1 in the morning, Moscow time. It was a miracle that she could even sit upright.

When we finished our delightful meal and headed to our gate, we learned that it was delayed an hour. Oh joy. Went to the bathroom, came out, and saw it was now delayed 90 minutes. That was it, no more bathrooms for me! We hunted through the hot, noisy, overcrowded gate area (LOTS of delayed flights) until a very nice man saw us looking and waved us over to an empty space beside him and his wife. They were from Morocco. I talked with them while Experiment 626 did her best to get into every suitcase surrounding her. The Moroccan folks left, and we talked with a lovely lady from Ireland who was also going to Syracuse. Finally, at about 7:40, Suzannah surrendered and fell asleep on my lap. Five minutes later, the Irish lady said that they'd altered our flight time yet again - but in the good directio! We'd just lost an hour of waiting and were scheduled to board in 15 minutes!

Suzannah slept all through the transfer to the plane, all through being buckled in, all through the flight and landing. She finally started to wake up as we were walking through the terminal in Syracuse - which meant she was fairly alert when we spotted the first sight of the whole family waiting for us on the other side. (This also meant she was fully aalert when Mommy statted sobbing like a baby.) We burst through the security point and were surrounded by the whole family. Lots of hugs, tons of tears, and the indescribable relief of knowing we were finally home at last.

We've neen back for 2 full days now, and so far, so good. She's settling into the family, everyone here is learnign her rhythms and preferences, and the process of becoming a full family has begun.

And so, we've come to the end of this part of the journey. I probably won't update again, but if anyone ever has a question, feel free to drop me an email. But before I finish, I have to hand out some very special thank yous:

- to my friends, especially those of the Purple variety, who have shared in this journey and talked me through the frustrations and never even complained when I sent them emails with subject headers that could have got them fired for opening them at work. Ladies, you are an amazing anchor. I am so lucky to have you all.

- to my sisters, Sandi and Terri, who have shared every bit of my life and always know how to make me laugh. You two are the reason I was so determined to make sure Miriam would know the special bond that only exists between sisters.

- to Shari Buskey, who gave up two weeks of her own life to stay with my children. It was so much easier to get on that plane, knowing that Shari was in charge.

- to my other kids, Josh, Dan, Noah, and Miriam, who have spent waaaay too many months waiting and hoping and having their lives jerked around by Mommy and Daddy's travel arrangements and constant absences. They pitched in, stepped up, held on, and their only complaint was that they wanted their sister sooner. I am so very proud of each and every one of you.

- and of course, to Larry, who pulled single parent duty and endured an extra round od transatlantic flights with only minimal complaints and who started this whole adventure when he said, two years ago, You know, if we ever want to get Miri a sister, this would be the time to do it. Definitely one of your best ideas yet, hon.