Four Feet More

Because our two children joined our family through adoption, they have a different background and perspective on life than most of their peers. We celebrate the fact that they were chosen to be a part of our family and have been very open about their adoption. To this end, we are always interested in finding great children's books dealing with adoption, especially those relating to children from Russia. A book we discovered recently is Mishka: An Adoption Tale, by Adrienne Ehlert Bashista. I love this book because it deals with the unique situation in Russia where prospective parents make two trips to adopt their child. First, they fly out to meet their child and sign the papers declaring their intention to adopt him or her. Then they return home to wait for a court date before making the second trip to adopt their child. For us, the wait was only a month, but others have waited much longer (one family I know waited a year!). This books tells about that wait from the perspective of those left behind in the orphanage, in this case a little boy and the mishka (teddy bear) his soon-to-be parents gave him during their first visit.

We learned a bit from the Baby Home about how Eamon reacted to the wait in between trips. He didn't understand where we had gone and why we were not visiting him. He knew we wanted to make him a part of our family, but our absence made him very concerned and nervous about when we would come to get him. Caretakers at the orphanage told us of Eamon lying in his bed, shaking with fear that we would never come back. The picture of our family that we gave to him was crumpled from being held tightly in his little fist. When I learned of this, I wished that we had given him something cuddly to hold on to, rather than the hard, plastic toy truck which was our gift to him during that first trip.

Before we initiated the adoption process, I bought a teddy bear for the child who would one day be my son. It is a red, white and blue speckled bear with a USA patch on its chest (a bigger version of a TY Beanie Baby). We didn't give this bear to Eamon when we went to Russia on Trip 1 because I was afraid that it would stay at the orphanage and we would never get it back (these fears were well-founded because the stuffed rabbit we got for Vika was never seen again). However, when we brought Eamon home, I presented him with his Mishka, and it has been his constant bedtime companion ever since. He calls the bear "Russia Mishka" and the bright red, white and blue colors of its fur have merged together into kind of a dull lavender from being well-loved.

Eamon and Vika both connect Mishka: An Adoption Tale to their own experience, even though Vika was not as affected by the wait between trips as Eamon. This story is nearly as much of a favorite as A Mother for Choco, another great adoption book. If you have children adopted from Russia, especially if they were a bit "older" at the time of their adoption, I recommend adding this book to your child's library.

Below are some other adoption and Russia themed books that my kids enjoy. I wrote about Nikolai, the Only Bear here, if you'd like to learn more.

I finished this book last night, and I'm still not quite sure how I feel about it. While the ending was hopeful, I guess wanted it to be a bit happier. The story did make me look at the Afghan community differently though and made me start thinking about a group of Afghan friends I had in high school.

I spent my teen years in the city of Fremont, California, which is where a portion of The Kite Runner takes place. It was strange to read about streets and locations which used to be part of my everyday life. Lake Elizabeth, which is mentioned a few times in the book, is the park where I spent endless weekends both playing and coaching soccer. It was through soccer that I came in close contact with Fremont's Afghan community. My brother was on a traveling team with 3 Afghan guys who were all extremely talented soccer players. Mo, Fo, and Obaid were also very funny and became great friends to both my brother and myself. Obaid came over to our house all the time and his mother would frequently send us Afghan food to sample. These were strange dishes featuring a lot of cinnamon and cilantro, and I didn't really enjoy them. It wasn't until later that I found out Obaid's mother was not the best cook, and her meals were a poor representation of Afghan food (which is actually quite good). Mo, Fo and Obaid would talk endlessly about Afghanistan and their dreams of returning there once the country returned to normal (this was both during and shortly after the Soviet occupation). Their memories of Afghanistan were much like those of The Kite Runner's main character, Amir.

Towards the end of my friendship with these guys, things took a turn into uncomfortable territory. For about 6 months, I had a crush on Fo (short for Fowad). While not tall, he was dark and handsome. More importantly, he was the best soccer player of my age I had ever met. This guy did things on the field that I had only seen professional soccer players do, and I was smitten. Then one day Mo and Fo said to me, "You would make a good Muslim wife." They approved of the fact that I didn't drink alcohol or eat pork (I was 17 and going through a vegetarian phase). They also would say things when they came over to our house such as, "Now, if you were an Afghan woman, you would get us something to eat and drink" (instead, I had plopped down onto the couch next to them without even asking if they were hungry). These comments slowly doused the torch I had been carrying for Fo, but unfortunately, both his and Mo's interest seemed to be kindled.

My first inkling that they were interested in more than friendship came when Mo began calling me every night. In between discussions about soccer and school, he would insert comments about how much I would like Afghanistan and how he'd like to show me his country someday. My suspicions were confirmed when he asked me out to a movie and dinner. As I climbed into his car, I was still trying to delude myself into thinking this was just a friendly outing. The gift he gave me of a gold necklace with a heart charm (surrounding a "J") pretty much jolted me out of my state of denial. While he was a complete gentleman, the date wound up killing my friendship with Mo. I was just wasn't attracted to him in that way and, stupid teenager that I was, I began avoiding him.

This was when Fo moved in. While we were away at a soccer tournament, he took me aside to sit next to him on the ledge of a fountain. He was nervously fiddling with a piece of paper in his hand, which he explained was a poem he had written. Would I like to hear it? I warily said yes, and then listened in silence as he read flowery phrases about a woman he had come to adore. After he was done, he looked at me meaningfully and asked if I liked the poem. "Yeah, it was good!" I replied, pretending to be oblivious, and then I got up and walked briskly away. Poor guy. His poem, while very sweet, marked the death of any lingering attraction I had felt for him. It reminds me of the following conversation from Pride and Prejudice:

Mr. Darcy: I thought that poetry was the food of love.

Elizabeth Bennet: Of a fine stout love, it may. But if it is only a vague inclination I'm convinced one poor sonnet will kill it stone dead.

Over the years since I last saw Mo, Fo, and Obaid, I have wondered about them frequently. Especially after the events of September 11th and America's battle against the Taliban in Afghanistan. I hoped that none of them had returned to their home country and that any family they had still living there were OK. About 5 years ago, I ran into Mo in the bar of a local restaurant. He was actually sitting at the bar, having a drink! I wasn't sure he would remember me, so I walked past, casting him covert glances. However, he did recognize both me and my mom (who I was having dinner with), and came to our table to say "Hi." He said his family was doing well and laughed at my surprise about him drinking alcohol. When mom asked him if he still wanted to return to Afghanistan he replied, "We're too corrupt for them now!" It was good to see that despite my awkward rejection of him, Mo harbored no ill feelings and was still the same funny guy he'd always been.

Even though I'm not sure how much I liked The Kite Runner, I did enjoy the memories it brought to mind. I gained a new understanding of friends whom I have not seen in a long time, and have begun to look at the city where I spent my teen years bit differently. Who knows? Maybe someday in the future I'll find myself at Lake Elizabeth again, this time with Jeff, Vika and Eamon, watching colorful kites flying in the air.

There are so many great adoption-related children's books out there, and I'm pleased to see that more and more are dealing specifically with adoption from Russia. A few that I've mentioned before are "Borya and the Burps, " "When I Met You," and "Nikolai, the Only Bear." However, this November, another book came out, and I quickly snatched it up for the kids as a Christmas gift. The book is called, "Mishka: An Adoption Tale," and it was written by the same author who wrote "When I Met You."

Both Vika and Eamon love this book. It tells of the adoption of an "older" child, through the eyes of a teddy bear (mishka) that is bought for the boy by his adoptive parents. The mishka shares feelings of confusion, anxiety, and happiness as the story unfolds, and also tells of his desire for a family - even though he doesn't quite understand what a family is. I love the way the feelings that many adopted children may have felt are projected onto the bear. It seems to make it safer for kids to identify with those feelings and recognize the anxiety and confusion they may have felt during their own adoption.

I have an even more personal reason for liking this story in that the boy, Yuri, reminds me very much of Eamon. In one illustration, he's even wearing baggy, yellow tights like the pair Eames wore during our first visit with him. We also bought Eamon a teddy bear during the adoption process, which he slept with for months on end, and still calls "Mishka." When we read this story to Eamon, he holds his Mishka on his lap so that he can "listen" to the story as well.

If you have adopted, or are in the process of adopting a preschool age or early school age child, this book may be one you want to check out.

A couple of weeks ago, Vika's kindergarten class went to the Teddy Bear Factory in San Francisco, and each child made their own bear. The theme of teddy bears has been woven throughout the curriculum, so Vika thought this would be a perfect time to bring one of her favorite books, Nikolai, the Only Bear*, to school. This book tells of a bear who lives in an orphanage in Russia. He sees several other children get adopted and find families, but he never really seems to fit in. Then, one day a furry man and a blond woman come to the orphanage, and he finds his forever family.

After reading this story to the class, Mrs. S, Vika's teacher, opened up a discussion about Vika's adoption and what life is like in a Child's Home. The kids asked many questions, including why Vika had to go to an orphanage. This is what Vika told them:

My Russian Mama drank too much peeva (Russian for beer/alcohol). One day, my Russian Babushka was at the house, and all the Mamas and Papas were drinking too much peeva and not taking care of the kids. My Babushka called the police, and they took me to the orphanage to be adopted.**

Mrs. S told me about this after class, and she was relieved that the other kids in the class did not know what the word peeva meant. She also kind of laughed because Vika had said it so matter of factly, as if incidents like this occur all the time.

Perhaps, among Vika's peers in the Child's Home, they did.


* Some adoptive families have trouble with this book because it uses the term "orphan," "orphanage" and "keepers." If you find such words offensive, you may want to skip Nikolai The Only Bear. My kids never seem to have a problem with these words, but I don't particularly like the term "keepers" (and the fact that there are 99 of them with 100 children is a little unrealistic). However, the terms "orphanage" and "Baby Home" or "Child's Home" were used interchangeably in Russia, and we use them they same way at home. This may not be P.C., but there it is anyway.

**Vika was taken from the Baby Home by the kids' Russian Mama when she was about 2, but Eamon was not. This incident occurred about 6 months later.

Last week I got a card in the mail from my SBP. In it was a gift card to buy a book for Vika and Eamon! I have loved books all my life. Ever since I could read, I have gone to bed with a book. It seems that I cannot go to sleep without reading for a while first (last night, I was up until 3 am finishing a book). This love of books is something I have passed on to our kids. They sit and thumb through books all the time, looking at the pictures and retelling the stories. Eamon and I cannot pass a book isle at Target without stopping to read one of the items for sale. Of course, this is frequently followed by his request, "Can I get a book Mama? Please?"

So, when he and Vika saw that they had received a gift card to buy a book, they were thrilled! Yesterday, we took them to the store, and we spent quite a lot of time browsing through the Children's book section. Vika, being the girly-girl that she is, naturally wanted a Disney Princess book. Eamon had other ideas, however. He found Uno's Garden right away and immediately declared that this was the book he wanted. Vika tried to talk him into another selection, but he wasn't budging. Finally, I had them each pick a book, and we sat down on the floor to read them both.

Vika's Princess book was OK, but basically a retelling of all the Disney stories we already knew. Eamon's choice, however, brought us into a whole new world. A world where strange animals live, and where humans try to live along side them. A world of "lumpybutts," "gondolopes," and the poor little "snortlepig." A story which tells of the effects that human habitation can have on an ecosystem as well as how to live in balance with nature. Both Vika and Eamon were fascinated by the beautiful illustrations, and it was clear which story won in our contest of books. Apparently I've got a few budding environmentalists on my hands!

Thank you SBP, for your thoughtful gift! It's funny how well you seem to know my kids. They greatly appreciate your generosity, and so do I.

I've said it before, but I'll say it again. SBP, you RULE.