We take Ruslan to see Roman

Vitals:  We are out of multi-vitamins and out of Advil.  Obviously, it’s time to go home.

Details:  On Friday, I took Ruslan to see Roman.  Matt came along to play the part of my reluctant pack-mule.  We took the metro/bus plan.  This was obviously stupid and I knew that before we left, but our trip over here was supposed to take 40 days and is ending up taking about 60, so things are getting tight.  Besides, I was really going for Bill’s sake.  He was discouraged by Roman’s behavior on Wednesday and wanted to see if I could get anywhere with him.  As we were debating transportation, Bill kept telling me that I really wouldn’t have to carry Ruslan all that much since we can take him in the stroller (lie) and besides, he’s not that heavy (also a lie).  I knew that these were lies, but just at the point that Bill was telling me to go ahead and take a taxi, I realized if I threw my back out, it would be great leverage to guilt Bill into doing various daily tasks that are starting to get annoying here.  I figured the bus/metro was a win for me either way, while the taxi was merely expensive. 

My boy is not all that easy to carry.  His body is really stiff, so he can’t relax and sort of drape his body over a shoulder.  I can get him to spread his legs around my hips, but it is probably uncomfortable for him, because he keeps wiggling out of it.  I finally went with a football hold with his legs stuck out behind or in front of me, sort of carrying him like a little miniature super-man.  No matter how I carried him, the result was that his center of gravity is a little forward or outside of my hips, which is why I am considering nixing “Ruslan” and starting to use his new nickname LBP (lower back pain).   

So, we took LBP in the stroller to the Green Line Metro (about three blocks), then I carried him down the escalator, in and out of the first train, up an escalator and across an underground bridge to the Red Line, in and out of the second train, up the steps and down another block to the bus station.  Luckily, the bus driver to Boyarka was the same one who took me and the kids on our maiden voyage and he recognized me.  LBP sat on my lap during the entire one-hour trip and the bus driver let us off at the front steps of the orphanage.   All in all, for the two hour trip [Deaton, Bill K]  which is only 18 miles per the GPS from our apartment by taxi, we had used the stroller for the first fifteen minutes and lugged it and the child for the rest of the time.  I decided not to mention this to Matt. 

At the orphanage, the visiting room we usually use was occupied, so they took us to a playroom on the second floor.  It was quite a room; huge, with an 8x8 foot ball pit right in the middle and packed full of toys and therapy equipment, all of it just as new and shiny as the day they were purchased.  I had heard from other missionaries and visiting parents that they don’t use the stuff you donate because they want to keep it nice.   Well, it was nice.  Roman came in, as we were taking our shoes off.  He gave me a hug and kiss and then walked right over to LBP and hit him as hard as he could.  LBP bowed up and looked ready to tear his throat out.  Bill and I agree that in a fair fight, LBP will pulverize Roman, so Matt took LBP to a different part of the play room and got him on a walker while I stayed with Roman. 

Roman was just nuts.  To go from almost no sensory stimulation from day to day, into a huge, gorgeous, colorful playroom full of shiny new toys is enough to put a reasonable adult over the edge, let alone a five year old.  Roman went from thing to thing to thing for about ten minutes.  Then he saw LBP again and tried to hit him, again.  I told him “Nyet, Neyt” in my mean voice, but I wasn’t getting any response.  Luckily, a caregiver was nearby and she came in and said, “No nyet!  No nyet!  Say, Neh mosh nah!”   This brought about a little response, but not immediate.

All in all, there were four separate times that Roman tried to tackle LBP and we had to pull them apart.  We are going to have some major battles once we get back to the states.  I was able to provide severe enough consequences to finally get Roman to stop the offensive on his own, without having to be pulled off LBP, but it took a LOT.   

On the bright side, Bill was worried that Roman is either hyper-active or dumb as a post. I really don’t think he is.  It was a short visit, maybe 25 minutes and during that time he sat down twice to do the shapes puzzle for about 5 to 10 minutes each time.  It is one of those wooden boxes with shaped holes cut in the top and colored wooden shape pieces that only fit in certain holes.  The first time, I was able to show him the circle and where to put it in the box top.  He repeated “circle” after me and he immediately went for the other three circles and put them in the right hole.  Then he dumped them out to do it again and this time, I moved the box top while he was looking for the next circle piece just to be sure he was looking for the right shape and not a certain corner of the box top.  He did great with this, which was a huge relief.   After that, he couldn’t fit any more shapes in so, after a good bit of whacking, he took the box top off and put all the pieces in the box, replaced the top and showed me the whole thing with a huge smile on his face.  I consider this to be creative problem solving (thinking outside the box) and saw it as a good sign.  He wanted to keep dumping them out, and putting them back in, then put the top back on but he was having a hard time replacing the top.  Unfortunately, the top slides out of two grooves and is slightly rectangular, so only the short ends fit in the groove.  I finally stopped his hands, showed him two shapes on the box top and said, “circle, square” and showed him how to find the circle and square and slide THAT end into the grooves.  He repeated “circle, square” right away and found the right edge, but the groove was just too small for him to get the lid in with his spastic hands.  The upshot is that he’s five years old and he knows ONE shape, but he can be taught.

Eventually, someone came to take Roman to lunch. He gave me a kiss and as soon as LBP saw it, he said something and they gave each other kisses and hugs goodbye, looking for all the world like they were leaving their best buddy ever.  Go Figure. 

On the way home, LBP tried to get me to say “nehmoshnah” correctly.  I have so many Ukrainian words floating around in my head, and they all sound so similar to me, that after five minutes, I’d forget how to say it.  I’d look at him and say “leh roh shna?”  and he’d laugh and say “neh mosh nah!”  So, I’d say it and Matt would say it and they’d yell it at each other on the bus or metro and Ruslan would laugh up a storm, then finally I’d say “neh mosh nah” to get them to stop being silly and they would crack up all the more.  Five minutes later, after the laughter had died down and they were all quiet, I’d forget how to say it again. 

I’d like to say we went straight home, but we had to go downtown to pay our apartment bill, and then I took Matt to McDonalds since he had been so good about carrying everything. Another adoptive mom left us some peanut butter, tomato paste and a DVD of Pride and Prejudice (BBC Version) that we picked up, so it was well worth the trip. We got in about 4:00.

After dinner, we put in the DVD.  I love my boys.  Matt complained loudly about our cinema choice, then after the first five minutes, he got his sketch book, plopped down right next to me and watched the whole first episode while copying a battle scene from one of his Star Wars/Clone Wars books.