Life with Kristina

We’re hanging out in the apartment now with Kristina. Wow, does a newly-minted 6 year old change the routines that Robin and I had become accustomed to. In the “BK” (before Kristina) days, we had a pattern of visiting the orphanage in the morning and perhaps buying some groceries at the Tsum in the early afternoon. The rest of the day was all about writing our journals, reading books and napping. It was deliciously laid back and predictable. We’d been doing it for so many weeks it seemed like something that’d always been there and would never change.

Now we’re a week into the “AK” ( after Kristina) era. Holy crap, is it different. No matter how much you plan for and anticipate the change, it still catches you by surprise. Like when she runs up to the light switch on the outside of the bathroom and shuts it off while you’re taking a shower. No windows in this room mean near total darkness. She squeals in laughter while you try to stay oriented and yell through the door to turn the light back on.

Or the many, many games of “chase me.” She sees that we like to ask her for a “paht-sa-loy” (kiss). She’ll turn the tables by jutting out her little butt and taunting me, saying I can “path-sa-loy” it. At that I’ll jump up and yell “You stinker!” as I chase her from the living room into the kitchen and back again. Over and over again. She can never get enough of it.

We’ve only taken her outside twice so far. Once was on a long walk and another time was over to the Tsum to buy some groceries. The people there had become accustomed to seeing us without a child in tow and we realized that they were suddenly looking at us and talking a lot more than before. It didn’t take much math to figure they were discussing us and Kristina. The big mystery of what our purpose here was revealed since they could see us speak in our limited Russian to her.

We spend a lot of time trying to keep her entertained, which isn’t easy in a 500 square foot apartment. Igor wants us to keep a low profile even though we’re past the 15 day waiting period. No one can change the outcome, but there’s always the prospect of upsetting any locals who might not be in favor of international adoption. The slower pace of life here places a premium on people-watching as entertainment, and we sense that we’re watched any time we stray outside.

Today we had a a chance to see a side of life here that normally escapes the adoption process. Kristina had complained of pain in an upper tooth on the right side of her mouth and we could see a large cavity right where she was pointing. She was in tears and it was clear that this would not keep until we got her to a dentist back home. We called Igor and asked him to see if he could find a dentist to help her. Igor called back a while later saying that none of the 15 private practices he called would see her. They don’t like to handle children for some reason.

The only alternative was the public clinic which is a holdover from the socialized medicine under the former Soviet Union. Although it’s free, it wouldn’t be your first choice from a quality standpoint.

We entered a large, tired building with the flag of Kazakhstan flying above it. After asking a few questions, Igor guided us down a long hallway. Our hearts sank as we saw a lot of people lining both sides of the hall down where the doctors and nurses were located. There was obviously quite a wait to be seen. Free, yes. Fast, no. We were mentally preparing ourselves for the numbing wait when Igor excused himself and disappeared back up the hallway we’d entered. A little while later he reappeared. It wasn’t long before a nurse emerged and took Kristina into an office. As we sat outside in the long hallway, Robin asked Igor “You went and pulled some strings with someone when you disappeared there, didn’t you?” He admitted he did. In this town, Igor pulls strings like a virtuoso musician.

Kristina reappeared 10 minutes later minus the decaying baby tooth and fighting back tears. It may be free, and it was fast in our particular case, but it still wasn’t gentle. They don’t coddle people in this society, and that includes 6-year old girls. We spent the next several hours soothing a visibly unhappy girl.

It’s Tuesday evening and I’m sitting here typing this journal while Kristina watches Cinderella for the umpteenth time. As the days slowly pass by, you can see her becoming more and more comfortable with this whole “family” idea. Even one where the two parents have such a halting command of her language. Our hearts speak their own language and there’s no problem in understanding the message.