Boys.

If I'm not careful, this is going to become a hair blog.  And then it will be even more narcolepsy-inducing than it already is.   We can't have that.

So without further ado, here are some pictures of my lovely boys.  (Who also have hair, of a thankfully much more low-maintenance style.)

Cheese!

All Matchy Again.

And cute as buttons.

Here Isaac is modeling our cat.  

Yes, you read that right.  We temporarily have a cat.  

2 cats, in fact.

I guess they were found somewhere, and some lady took them in but couldn't keep all of them forever, and the shelter would only take them for purposes of putting them to sleep, so we took them.  They will be soon moving to my parents' house on the farm, there they will be trained to eat mice and live happily ever after with lots of room to stretch their legs.

More Hair Talk

This is the hair post-flat rope twist.

(They lasted about 4 days before they got too frizzy-looking.)

A little out of control, methinks.  But she has a cute tongue.  :)

Here is after we brushed it.

(Tangle Teezer, I love You!)

Here is when we put it in again a couple days later.

(What can I say?  I think it's cute!)

But then I thought maybe I shouldn't keep putting the same 'do in her hair all the time.

Something about repeated identical parting causing breakage.

Anyway.  This is what she looks like now.

I think it's cute, tho I don't like it as well as the flat rope twists.

And it took FOR. EV. ER.

Which was sort of surprising considering her hair isn't that long.

I guess we did take a lot of breaks, tho.  And we started with bigger twists, and ended up redoing several of them into multiple smaller twists. 

But let me say, that My Baby is the Champ of Sitting (sort of) Still and letting me work on her hair.

The problems I foresee with this hair style is that the back/bottom of her hair is rather short and fuzzy.  They aren't staying in very well.  The top ones look cute and would probably last a while.  

(Which would be nice, considering I spent my entire Saturday evening doing this.)

Also, I don't like the rubber bands.  They aren't really so good for her hair, plus any product with oil in it disintegrates them into little tiny chunks of former rubberbandness. 

But I did just order some Hair Snaps, which I'm excited to try instead.  Should be much prettier, less damaging, and faster than the bands!

(Ever tried to put rubber bands into teensy tiny little twists while the twists -and therefore your fingers- are coated with slippery hair goo?  It's super-fun.)

Ok, I'm mostly writing this for myself, since no one else who reads this will care in the least.

But this is what I learned.  

The End.

4 Year Blog-o-Versary

It was 4 years ago today that I posted my very first post.

This was us, then:

Look at us.  All cute and young and carefree.

And later, with added cuteness and youth of a different variety:

(May 2011)

(Photography Credit)

And now this insane degree of cuteness and coinciding high degree of mischief:

(July 2012)

What a journey it's been!

Happy Birthday, Little Blog.

I think I feel a celebratory blog makeover coming on...

In Which We Delve Into the Wonderful and Challenging World of Baby Girl Hair.

This is Raya.  She is looking rather Fro-tastic these days.

Previously, I had ventured no farther than the ornamented headband, 

such as the very stylish look shown here (circa Mid-June):

although recently, I admit I've been lazy and rarely even done that.

So yesterday we tried our hand at something called "Flat Rope Twists." but baby style.

Cuz her hair, pulled straight, is about 2 to 2.5 inches long.

So here she is after the new 'do! 

Still smiling.  :)

She actually didn't do too bad in the "Sitting  Somewhat Still and Not Screaming" department, 

considering sitting on a lap is one of her favorite things anyway.

(Tho historically, she's not a fan of someone tugging on her hair.)

  But she was a trooper.

(And we did take a break part way through.)

And clearly I was drunk, because those lines are NOT straight.

Anyway, here is the sleeping princess on day 2.

It held up much better than I thought!  

(I didn't have high hopes of it lasting more than a day.)

She has a lot of fly-aways, or "baby hairs," if you will.  :)

I suppose I could have used more product when I put it in, but then it gets slippery to hold on to, especially since it's not that long to begin with.   

But overall, I'm pretty proud of the effort.

Love her.

Some Picture Catch Up

I've actually been very slackery about taking pictures lately.  And even more slackery about transferring them to my computer.  Therefore, they certainly never make it to the blog.

So here are some pictures of the last several...uh... times I took pictures.

Smile!

Cutie Baby.

Up Close.

This is where we make Eli carry his weight in backpacks, as part of his daily strengthening exercises.

Ok, just kidding.  He did this to himself.

Standing up by the window.  Her favorite spot.

First Day of Preschool

 (ok, it was actually the second week.  We're totally on top of it here.)

Um... I'm not sure that's where you're supposed to sit.

Part 4: The Icing on the Cake

So the process, once we had the kids' visas, was basically to submit the visas to the DGM for processing of the kids' exit permit.  This took a couple of days, and we hand carried this letter, along with the originals of all the kids' adoption papers through the airport, and all the way home.

The airport on the way home was busy with long lines that weren't moving, and our friend Masiala (the real one, not Amber's Fake Masiala friend) somehow worked his magic, and we skipped all the lines and went straight to the VIP lounge, where they scrutinized our papers and finally let us in, after which time we sipped our complimentary beverages while visiting with David until our plane boarded.

I had not really read these papers until recently, when I was working on the kids' re-adoption papers.  And I was having fun reading the documents, learning a few more bits and pieces of the kids' past.  And I get to the exit permit.

The first line, translated, goes something like this:

Letter requesting permission to leave for a child adopted 01/03/12 to Vivaldi Cesare and Cecchi Christina, adoptive parents of adopted minor children...

Wait.  Who?

The rest of the document has our names all as it should, relatively speaking.  Our last name is spelled wrong in one spot.  And in another spot, we're listed under my maiden name.  And in general, it's a hot mess.  At least the bold print at the bottom is correct.  And maybe that's what counts??

We had also lost Amber's yellow fever card, but somehow we managed never to be asked about it on the way home.  (I think it's a lot bigger deal when you are coming than when you are going.  But technically you are still supposed to have it with you on your way out.)

Our bags were tagged wrong, and we had to re-tag them at Newark so they would actually end up at our final destination.

Amber left her ipad on the plane after the Kinshasa-Brussels flight, never to be seen again.

Raya projectile vomited in Amber's hair just before we went through Immigration.


At any rate, we got home.
And Please- Call me Cesare.

Miracle #4:  We got out of Congo just fine, with papers that weren't done correctly.
Miracle #5:  I didn't notice said mistake until I was already home, thus saving me approximately 2 small strokes, 1 night of lost sleep, and a lot of gray hairs.
Miracle #6:  The kids slept nearly the whole way home, at least on the airplanes.
Miracle #7:  Amber and I are still on good terms after these adventures, and 4 weeks together in a hotel room in the Congo.
Miracle #8.  I'd do it all again if I had to.

For these precious babes?   Oh yes I would.

But I think I might have a hard time convincing Amber to come along next time...

Part 3: Uninvited Guests

June 26.
It was a good day, at first.  We got our kids' visas.  We went souvenir shopping.  We were excited to be heading home soon, finally.

And then apparently we had to shake it up a little.

Here was my journal entry for that day.

We had to leave Sunny Day after our original 3 weeks, because they were booked up. So was St. Anne's. We ended up at a place called Residence 165. It was comparable to Sunny Day in many respects. It felt safe enough. It was gated, and guarded. But no one there spoke English, and there was no pool. And no awesome neighbors. :( 

(if you recall, we spent most of our waking hours hanging out with the next-door LBB family at Sunny Day)

Anyway. It felt safe enough. Until today. 

This morning was eventful. David picked up our visas! He brought the papers to the DGM. We filed for visa extensions (me and the neighbors Darren and Valerie), and shopped for souvenirs. Then we wandered back home to R165.

There was a man sitting at the table on the yard. We didn't pay attention, because why would a man sitting at a table alarm us? A few hours later, 3 policemen knock on the door, accompanied by the only hotel staff who speaks any English, (tho it was still not much). He says “These are the police intelligence. They need to see your documents.” Other than that, the message was lost in translation.  

I tried to explain that my passport was at DGM because of my visa extension. 

They asked to see DGM papers.  

I tried to explain that I don't have any, because David dropped everything off and took care of all of it. 

They wanted to see Amber's passport, and then kept it. 

After a few more minutes of non-communication, I called David, trying to explain that there were police at my door and they wanted to see my documents. He was confused at first, and assured me that my visa would be ready tomorrow. No, I say. There are police at my door right now. I was thinking they were here because of a visa issue, that my visa had expired and that was the problem, but David repeatedly assured me that my visa was fine. He talked to them, then called again to talk to them, and called again to talk to them. He calls me then, and says “Stay in your room. Lock the door. Do not go with them if they ask. Stay where you are. I'm sending someone there. I'll be there in 30 minutes. I will fix this.”

Oh dear. 

I lock the door, thinking it's futile since the hotel guy has his own keys. I sit and wait, and call Valerie, pace and stare, and try to pray but my brain won't form actual words.

After several minutes our main driver Patrick comes. He talks to them, then comes and tells us in his broken English that David is on the way, and meanwhile he will continue speaking to the police.

After a while longer, David arrives, and joins the ever-growing number of men arguing around the table in our yard. Discussion gets very heated. I cannot hear what is going on, nor could I have understood it anyway. 

Eventually Andrew (from the Embassy) arrives.

Oh my.  It must be serious if the Vice Consul of the US Embassy is here in my yard on my behalf.

I continue pacing, and change my clothes so I'm ready for seeking asylum at the Embassy, or going to Congolese prison, or wherever it I may be headed next. For Pete's sake, I don't even know why they are here!  All I can think about is the family in Ghana who was arrested and imprisoned on false child trafficking allegations while trying to leave with their adopted children.

 Discussions continue. Phone calls are made. This goes on for an hour or more. It's getting dark. People are angry. 

Finally everyone leaves.

David, Andrew, and Patrick come into the room to explain.

Basically what had happened was that we were targeted by police looking for a bribe. 

They were arguing first that I didn't have a passport. 

Next they were arguing that Amber's visa was expired, which it was not. 

Then they were saying I was registered wrong at the hotel. (whatever that means??) Anything for a little money.  Andrew apologized that it happened, and assured me that they “probably won't come back” to the hotel, but that they may try and stop us on the street and demand money. And that he was glad we were leaving soon since now they know we are here.

They made it sound like not that big of a deal.  They "probably" wont come back.  But an hour later, Stephanie called (she and Kelly, the agency reps were in Lubumbashi at the time), and she said "Where are you going?  You cannot stay there.  Someone is on their way to pick you up."

We have moved again now. Well, a lot of our stuff is still over at R165, but we threw a bunch of stuff in a bag, and we're back at Sunny Day. We came before we even knew we had a room (we were going to somehow cram in Darren and Valerie's room) but miraculously, SD had a room open up, and is available for 2 nights, which is perfect. We should be gone after that.

In the end, I'm so thankful that we are safe and things are fine. I'm so thankful David was able to come and take care of it, and Patrick was able to come to be with us until David could arrive, and that Andrew was willing to come after hours to help. So thankful for people like Valerie and Darren who drop everything to pray for us, and who have our backs.

I don't know who these guys were. Andrew said they were not with DGM, who would have been in charge of any visa problems, and again assured me that my visa was fine. They may, however, have gotten a list of adoptive families from DGM, and taken it upon themselves to pay a visit to these adoptive families. Alain (the owner of Sunny Day) said they had stopped here at SD this morning, but he didn't let them in. Apparently they go around seeking out adoptive families and extorting money out of them.

The good news is that now Andrew has a renewed sense of urgency about Darren and Valerie's case, and will start on it right away. And we are all safe. And we are back at Sunny Day, which is what we preferred anyway. Too bad I'm hemorrhaging money, particularly now that I'm paying for 2 hotel rooms, having already paid at R165, and now here too. But it could be lot worse.

Major Miracles 2 and 3:  Safety, and Provision of housing when there was supposed to be no room at the inn.
Major Miracle 2b:  Darren and Valerie's visas, not even started the day before, were DONE 3 days later.  

Part 2: Lost, and Then Found

The Sequel to Part One.

Straight from the Horse's Mouth. 

Here is Amber's Story:

I worked my final 11a-11p shift before leaving on the grand adventure I was looking forward to… but as per usual in the Pediatric ICU, I got held up by a 5 month old baby almost losing her PICC line 5 minutes before I was supposed to leave for 2 weeks, and had to hold pressure on the bleeding site for 15 minutes causing me to not clock out until after midnight. Then I still had to finish packing and drive 8.5 hours to Sheresa's house, where I had to repack to get my belongings in with the luggage Sheresa wanted me to bring, plus run to the store and get a list of items she had sent to me which also needed to be packed.

I didn't get finish packing until around 2am and had to be at the airport at 8am. I didn't sleep very well, while I was sleeping I would wake up every once in a while to check on the movies I was converting to be iTunes compatible so I could transfer them to my iPad before leaving for the airport. My ever so helpful big brother was also helping me with this project (Thanks Nathaniel!!). Thus my sleep deprivation had already begun. I only had a 2 hr delay at the first airport, which wasn't a huge deal considering I had a 8ish hour delay in Chicago. I was really hoping to get some sleep on the flight from Chicago to Brussels… alas… I think I got a total of an hour broken up because I do not sleep well on planes.  :(

I was supposed to have 80 minutes in Brussels, which turned out to actually be more like 15… No big deal, I had no idea how close on time I was actually cutting it until after I boarded the plane to Kinshasa and approximately 3 minutes later they said they were shutting the cabin door (I know I stopped to use the restroom on my way to the gate, but there were no lines and it was a quick little pit stop). Surely I would get a nap on this flight right?? Yeah… right… This was an even longer flight since we had to go south of DRC stop in Angola before heading on to Kinshasa. I had another broken hour of sleep on the 10 hour flight.

Before we even left Angola I had a speech ready for Sheresa about how much she owed me, & she better really love me and be grateful for me coming because I was SO sick of sitting and flying and not having leg room I wanted to scream… also I had just flown across the world… BY MYSELF!!! Do you know how lonely it is to fly across the world by yourself?? Cause it is… especially when on ALL 3 flights I had been on, I did not have anyone sitting next to me… Not a single one, no one to talk to… and very little sleep. I tried to break up the flight by going to the bathroom. I remember Sheresa telling me that I needed to do that before I got off the plane anyway since there wouldn't be anywhere to go until I got to Sunny Day where she and the kids were.

But I finally made it to Kinshasa… ahhh… the smell of a 3^rd world country!! The plane had landed early, when I got to customs/immigration, the staff there had decided to open up a few more lines for people to go through… lucky me!!! I was approximately the third person to complete this process.

I had my little ALBB “things to do when you arrive in Kinshasa” in hand… Next on said list was find Masiala, he will get my luggage. Walking out of immigration there were 5 people standing there: 2 were in immigration officer uniforms, the other 3 held up signs with people’s names on them or the name of hotels. Masiala was supposed to get my luggage for me, but since I didn’t see anyone who looked like him (and I had the picture in my hand) I decided I would just go see if I saw my bags since there were 2 other people standing there. Recall that I was one of the last on the plane in Brussels?? My luggage was also the first off!! WIN!! 

But still no Masiala… I stood in baggage claim for a while… probably about 5 minutes after I got my bags and then someone came up to me and said I couldn’t stand there… ok… slowly walk towards the door, praying I would see David or Masiala. No such luck.

Let me interject at this point that the Kinshasa airport, like many third world airports, is more or less a madhouse of people trying to grab your luggage and carry it for you for tips.  They are at times quite aggressive about it.  They really want/need the tips. Then there are people bossing other people around, and just lots of chaos and arguing and confusion. Particularly confusion, when you don't speak French and have no idea what anyone is saying. When we had arrived, John had even made the comment that it was hard to tell who was in charge and who was just bossing people around because they could.  It's generally a big disorganized mess, or at least it appeared to be so from my point of view.

I stood outside the airport for a couple minutes when some nice young man walked up to me and started taking my luggage for me and said “Ma’am, here for baby?” (imagine this being said in a very strong Congolese accent… this nice young man obviously doesn’t much English at all). I pull my bags back close to myself, kind of look at the picture in my hand… is this Masiala or David? The paper does say that Masiala doesn’t know English… it could be him I guess… they kind of look alike in the photo. He says something to me, which kind of sounds like he could be introducing himself as Masiala? He tries taking my bags again, and I pull them back… We do this a couple more times, and I can tell he is getting frustrated with me. He keeps telling me he “will bring me to baby.”

This is the point where I make a mistake. I ask “Where is David?” To which I get the reply “Oui, I bring to you David. Come with me, I bring you to David.” I’m not sure I buy it & stall for a few more minutes… “Where is David, I need David?” He’s very frustrated with me… “Come, I bring you to David!”

I give in and let him take me and my bags…

We walk, and walk, and walk… we are getting farther and farther away from the people and the airport… to what I might call the “Nose Bleed Section” of the parking lot. Hmm… where is David?? I don’t think this is Masiala. What am I going to do?? I don’t speak French! & he looks at me like I’m on crack when I speak to him in Spanish. He brings me to a car where a man that is clearly not David is waiting. “Where is David?” I’m not getting into that car without knowing where David is. “He bring you to David”… my luggage is already loaded up in the trunk of the car. “I need David!” more of them speaking French to me and me speaking Spanish to them… it didn’t work out for us. 

 By this time there is kind of a crowd around the car… yikes… Fake Masiala pushes/helps me into the back seat of the car & gets in the front passenger seat. The driver gets in and starts the car… by twisting together wires… crap… this is REALLY not what is supposed to be going on right now! I am not in the right spot at all! We drive about 2 minutes Fake Masiala demands money… The book from ALBB says you are to pay Masiala $5 for each piece of luggage, I have 2= $10. Hand him $10… he wants more & at this point I’m not going to fight him.  $30 later he is satisfied & we continue driving. I firmly ask them to bring me back to the airport” (they looked at me like I was high).

I have traveled internationally by myself enough that I know it is better if I act confident and don’t show my fear. After about 5 minutes the car stops, I firmly ask them to bring me back to the airport again. Fake Masiala says something to the driver then exits the car. We continue driving. Remember how I said to make the car run the driver twisted wires together?? Well, said wires would come untwisted when we hit a large enough bump. This was a fairly frequent occurrence.

The driver says “Grand Hotel, Oui?”

"No, Sunny Day Guest House. "

 He continues driving, eventually we stop at a gas station where he demands $200. What?? No way fool! He also doesn't know much English, but we go back and forth in his broken English and my nonexistent French for a bit. He shows me a piece of paper from the “office” stating I need to pay $200 for my location… Gombe… “I pay when we get there”… “NO! $200”… I give him a $100 bill… “$200!!”… “You get the other $100 when I get to Sunny Day”… “$200 now or get out”… I take the $100 from his hand and pretend like I’m going to get out… I wasn't actually going to get out of the car in the middle of Kinshasa at a gas station which was next to a bar/dance club in the middle of the night. Not going to lie… the place made me a little nervous… also I couldn’t open my door from the inside of the car (made me feel even more safe). “$200 for gas. I bring you to David, Sunny Day.” … I give in and give him the $200.

This whole time I’m praying, Dear Lord, PLEASE let me get to Sheresa!!! I don’t think I have ever in my life wanted to see her as much as I did right then. We drive for a while longer and we eventually arrive at the Grand Hotel. Ugh… this is not where I want to be!! Where is Sheresa, or David, I am Such An Idiot!!  People are trying to take my luggage into the hotel, I don’t let them… I need to go to Sunny Day. Eventually a VERY nice man comes out of the hotel, he speaks English (ahh… music to my ears)!! He has never heard of Sunny Day, but suggests I come in and buy a $12 ticket to use the internet to look up Sunny Days information. Ok fine… my luggage comes with me, as well as the driver. 

We look up Sunny Day on the internet. I find a map!! (as a paramedic I’m very good at reading maps and use them frequently) The driver, however, does not know how to read maps & I don’t know Kinshasa geography OR French… awesome!! But we write down the phone number and address and head back to the front desk. The nice English speaking gentleman calls Sunny Day. My sister is there & they are waiting for me! We will be reunited soon!!!

But the driver can’t find Sunny Day.

We stop at every other corner and talk to random people (I’m assuming he is asking if said people know where Sunny Day is)… No One does. We drive around some more. Ask more strangers. Drive around more. Eventually someone points to a gate. Honk… I HAVE ARRIVED AT SUNNY DAY!!!!!! The driver wants more money… NO WAY DUDE!!!

For a bit of time reference… I landed in Kinshasa around 8pm, and arrive at Sunny Day after 11:30pm.

I am so excited to see Sheresa… you have no idea!! 

They start bringing me to my own room. I try to explain to them I have a room… they don’t speak English (or Spanish) why didn’t I learn French before this trip?? It could have come in handy.  Thankfully, the owner of SD happened to be on the compound & does speak English!! He also had talked to John and knew that I was coming to stay with Sheresa!! Woohoo!!! So he brings me to her !  :)

Knock Knock!!! She peeks through the curtain on the door… confused look on face… opens door slowly… “how did you get here??”

It’s a really LONG story… then I started crying… But I was safe & with Sheresa & Eli & Raya!!!

She never got the speech about how much she owed me and should love me I had prepared before landing in Kinshasa.  

So there you have it folks, Major Miracle #1.  Amber is not missing or dead on the streets of Kinshasa, or sold into slavery or (insert horrid and tragic storyline here).  She managed to tour the streets of Kinshasa for a few hours in the night alone, and by grace, was delivered with no (permanent) damage to my doorstep. 

Upon her safe arrival, however, she did request not to leave the  safety of the compound or come near an airplane for a good long time.  She in fact did not head outside the gates of SD for at least a week, and little did we know, it would be just shy of Four More Weeks before we'd see the inside of the airplane that would take us Homeward Bound.

Stay Tuned for Further Miracles.