Custody Date

It's Friday, “Custody Day”. Very strange to be giving birth this way, so to speak. We wake up in the morning with two children and, after lunch, we'll have three. Andre has no idea what's in store for him -- he's already been given a different name, now he's goint to leave the only home and the only care-givers he's ever known. Hope he likes us well enough to do this!

Lana is wearing her long, flowered dress. It's her "I mean business" dress. Sadly, it was also her "Let's party like it's 1999" dress; her "I'm an educator" dress; her "travel" dress; her "casual Friday" dress; and her "Ask me about Amway" dress. We'd seen this one before...LOTs before. She does mean business, though. She's bursting through doors like a gurney on the way to the operating room. We're thankful we're not on the wrong side of those flying doors.

Our first stop is the Perm Courthouse to get his Original Birth Certificate and Four Copies of the Court Decree. We're there before the courthouse is open for business, so I decide to snap a few shots. The next thing I know, an older Russian man is yelling at me in Russian. Unfortunately, I have chosen to get my cultural understanding of Russians from less than authoritative sources -- namely, The Simpsons. There was an episode in which Lisa becomes lost in the Russian District of Springfield. She encounters some Russian men playing chess. They realize she is lost, so they give her directions to get home, but in the Russian communication style (loud, flailing arms) which frightens Lisa. I assumed this man was one of those helpful Russian chess players. This was a serious mistake. He was a judge from the courthouse who wanted to understand why an American was outside taking pictures of a government building. Now I don't look at all like a terrorist or a spy, but this guy lived through the Cold War. It's fairly understandable that he would be at least a little suspicious of me. The only reason I'm not deported immediately is Lana. Not just that she knew the judge, but apparently he has the hots for her. This works in my favor, so I have nothing further to say on the matter.

Now we deal with the bureaucracy at its worst. Picture your local Department of Motor Vehicles...on a day when their airconditioners and fans aren't working...and their toilets are all backing up. This is not going to be pleasant. Lana explains that the woman at the front entrance will keep us waiting so that we know who's boss (hint: it's not any of us). Lana explains that to get what you need from the bureaucracy, you have to humble yourself or, as she so beautifully put it: "I am ready not to be important. "

We get the docs we need and Lana reads the Court Decree aloud twice. Now she's hit her stride and the full agenda kicks in. It looks like this (quite literally):

9:00-9:08, Original Birth Certificate and Four Copies of Court Decree, Courthouse, Perm
9:13-9:18, Adoption Certificate (with our names) from Leninsky District
9:36-9:44, Birth Certificate with our names as parents
10:02-10:13, Apostilles (including time for Lana to sneak in a well-deserved smoke)
10:17-10:19, Photo copies (at the Ural Hotel)
10:27-10:47, Andre’s Russian passport

In the middle of all of this planned madness, Donna frowns and scolds me: “You didn’t bring up the highchair from the basement”. I try to explain to Lana that Donna doesn’t understand the concept of compartmentalization – focusing on the task at hand and deferring other items until the appropriate time.
Lana: “Donna, now I am thinking only of birth certificate. Then I am only thinking of apostilles. Then I am only thinking of the child’s passport. Then I am only thinking about your flight tomorrow. Donna, live in Russia in my house for two weeks…Sergei will cook, you will be cured.”

We finish Commrade Toad's Wild Ride, then stop for lunch and a rest. Later in the afternoon, Lana returns to take us to Baby Home #2 for the last time. We bring gifts for Andre's first "family" -- perfume for the ladies; a bottle of Macallan 12-year-old for Dr. Sergei. We sit down on the couch where we usually played with Andre and started the normal "look, we're funny, please like us" routine. After a few minutes, Lana exclaims "Don't you people want to leave this place? You don't have to stay anymore! He's your son now!" Holy sh#*, she's right. We can go. We have a son and he's going to go home with us. We have a son.