Danya was fortunate to have the 25th off of school, since it was Saturday. He performed in an English carnival with the kids in his school who are learning English. While the translation of the traditional Russian fairy tales was pretty sketchy, the kids did a great job of delivering the lines they were taught. Danya is one of the roosters- in an orange hat below.
Pre/School Performances
Danya was fortunate to have the 25th off of school, since it was Saturday. He performed in an English carnival with the kids in his school who are learning English. While the translation of the traditional Russian fairy tales was pretty sketchy, the kids did a great job of delivering the lines they were taught. Danya is one of the roosters- in an orange hat below.
The Season of Waiting...
Early December Days
November topics
We are so thankful! (And grateful to the Beyars, for the tree idea.) Danya painted the tree on old IKEA bookshelf-package paper. And we used to useless leaves I can't help but gather each fall. Each evening, we wrote what we were thankful for on a leaf, and glued it to the tree. Some of my favorites:
Snow
Great Grandma's successful surgery
Karate Kid
Pizza
This leaf
[drawing of exercise equipment at preschool gym]
God answered my prayer.
(The prayer was for another chance to use the exercise equipment! Three gym classes in a row, Tima was delighted to try it all out.)
After first big snow, we played for over an hour at Danya's school. Although the cell-phone picture doesn't have a wide field, you can see groups of kids all over the place, each rolling up huge snow balls. It was a fun time with friends and the blessing of snow.The Humbling Clinic
Yesterday, we went to the policlinic to get Tima's TB test checked. And today we were back, to get Ella's 'medical pass'. I have no idea how to translate the справка that we need to get her back in preschool after missing more than three days. Her cold is almost gone, so I attempted to get our first 'medical pass'.
Leaving plenty of time to walk there, change shoes and hang up coats, we gather our things:
Empty Notebook to start Ella's public clinic medical records-check
copy of American doctors' notes - check
photocopy of American immunization records - extra credit
Clean slippers for Ella - check
Blue plastic covers for adult shoes- check
330 rubles to pay cash for the visit - check
diversions for Ella as we wait in the corridor - check
...and we were off.
For eight years now, I've been taking my children to Russian or Ukrainian medical clinics. I feel like I've got it down. Yesterday, I finally wrote down the name and hours of our doctor. Each section of the city is assigned a doctor; We live in the 11th section for the 76th children's policlinic. Our doctor is in about four hours each day, but at different times. There are no appointments.
We walk into the crowded corridor and I take a deep breath. Loudly exposing my foreign accent, I ask, "Who is last for 204?"
After the initial stares from each person along the corridor, someone answers, "We are." But then another woman asks, "Before twelve or after?" Because our doctor will come into the office and replace the former occupant at twelve. I am relieved to say I'm early, not late. And only one teenage girl is ahead of us in the 'after twelve' verbal line. Ella sits down with me, and is delighted I brought her notebook and markers. I open my magazine, giddy with success.
A few minutes later, a newcomer asks, "Who is last for 203?" With a shot of adrenaline, I remember that you are not secure in the verbal line until you have someone behind you. I've relaxed too early! But that's not our doctor's office. So I'm alert each time a new person walks up, until I can answer, "We are." And then, I am safe--hemmed in behind and before. I can talk with Ella, read my magazine, talk with the teenager (who is reading "Twilight" on her tiny iPod in English.) and relax. We are early, second in line, and it's all going to work out. I have figured out the system!
The doctor comes 15 minutes late. I'm a little anxious, as we need to leave to pick up Tima in just 20 more minutes. After a few moments, she opens the door and asks who is first. The teenager stands up. But the doctor says, "Don't you have a baby?"
"No," the shy girl answers.
"Well, I was expecting a woman with a baby."
At this point a woman a few back (in the verbal line) picks up her baby and walks into the office. The doctor closes the door. The teenager sits back down. I look around, alarmed, and ask the woman across the hall what it's all about. "Today is immunization day for healthy kids, so all the babies need a quick check before their shots."
Two babies later, I realize we aren't going to see the doctor today. But when I stand up to leave, the teenager says we can go in front of her. We wait five more minutes, because if we leave today, we'll have to do all of this again tomorrow, and Ella won't be able to go to preschool until we get the medical pass. But, I know Tima is already sad that I'll pick him up late, and now we're heading into really late. How to weigh extending his emotional day at preschool against my desire to not return to this clinic tomorrow? So, we go downstairs, get our things from the coat check, change into boots, pack up our bags, unlock the stroller and walk home.
Ella starts to cry, "Why didn't the doctor check me?" And I feel like crying, too. Forty-five minutes, plus twenty minutes walking there and back, and it feels like a waste. I scheduled our whole morning around getting to that clinic early enough to be out of there in time. And I have no idea what we'll do tomorrow.
And I feel a little angry--at the women with babies, for jumping the 'line' (though they were invited to, of course). And at myself, for not claiming my 'multi-child-family' right to jump the line (who's jumping-the-line rights are stronger, anyway?)
And really, I just hate not knowing how to get a medical pass. (The consensus among those around me was that I could have gone to any available doctor, not just our assigned pediatrician, and perhaps even at any time of the day. But when I asked at the information desk, they told me we had to go to our doctor according to the schedule.) Suddenly, I'm humbled again, an outsider trying to figure out this system (which I know is confusing and frustrating sometimes for Russian moms, too!)
So, tomorrow the doctor's hours start at 4pm. I'm hoping to get Ella up early from her nap, be first in line, and finish by the time Danya gets dropped off after soccer at 4:30. Anyone want to take bets on whether or not we get the справка?
Cousins!
Ella's Violin Story
"Momma! Do you know what this is? This is my violin. Do you hear the music? Whaaat? How can you not hear the music? See how I play it? Do you know where I got the violin? For my first birthday! Whaaat? Did I play it with the orange on bottom and the blue the violin stick? Yeah, I play it with the blue violin stick."
"Did you do the picture of my violin? You just could write down."
[Do you have more to tell me?]
"No, I'm done with that story."
School- Preschool
Tima - age six

Ella's Dramatic Flair
"I'm sad that I'm a guy who's not a baby..." [why?] "Because I like to whine and cry."
"Momma, that's so sad. There's only one flower here."
"Look, Momma a dog. That's so sad. He's all alone. He lost his owner.""I didn't have any fun." [Usually said after a particularly fun time, when she's been forced to leave the activity and come home."
She loves making sad faces at herself in the mirror. In fact, if she's already sad, a mirror is the worst thing to make her feel better. She really likes watching herself cry, and exaggerates it more if she can see the results.
After the second day of preschool, she reported that two of the kids cried because they missed their mommas. (It is considered normal for kids to be miserable at first, since it's full-day childcare for kids 1 1/2 and older, as long as 7am to 6pm --not preschool as you imagine it!) Then she said, "I was sad without you. But I didn't cry. I was just quiet."
When I suggested that she go to her teacher for a hug, asking in gestures if she doesn't know the Russian words, she thought, then said, "But I love YOU!"
(The next day she was excited to go, though said she would be sad without me. And she was, but not too badly, I guess. We'll see how next week goes!)
