It's Wednesday afternoon in New Delhi and our flight is tonight. Monday was our final visa appointment, and Junior and I spent most of the morning at the U.S. Embassy with Mrs. Worrywort. We sat for a long time as the visa was processed, but I have learned that out in public, Junior is a champion sitter. She's just fine watching people, listening to iTunes on my iPhone, eating trail mix (picking out the dried cranberries, OF COURSE) and drinking from her water bottle.
While at the Embassy we ran into the same couple we met at the clinic on Saturday, plus two other adopting families. I would put them into several categories: 1) Family #1 from the clinic: naive but getting through it in good form; 2) Family #2 Clueless and wondering why the world doesn't turn to their American tune everywhere they go; 3) Family #3: single mother (Non-Resident Indian) who high expectations and low opinions of the miserable slobs put on this earth to serve her (and no that is not me); and Family #4 Junior and me. Junior and I were the only ones with the good sense to hire a facilitator.
Family #1 had all their paperwork in order, but they were no one special, so had to leave the Embassy and come back in the afternoon to get their daughter's visa. Family #2 was represented solely by Dad, who was clearly from the Deep South. He and his wife were adopting a 6 year old girl and already had four sons. He had tickets to fly out that night and only learned that morning that he was missing a critical document from the Indian Central Government that had not yet been delivered to the Embassy.
Family #3, the other single mother, was an NRI like me, and was a US citizen but she clearly had grown up in the UK by the sound of her accent. She informed me that her new daughter was under 2 but in reality was likely older since "all the orphanages lie about ages to make the children more attractive for adoption." Probably true, but I thought it was sort of cynical and not the kind of thing you ought to be saying within earshot of Embassy personnel. Adoption programs have been shut down that way. She had an imperious way about her. She asked me who my agency was, and then she revealed that she had been using the same agency. While I have been happy with this agency, she went on for some time about how awful they were. You know, I make my living at least in part by reading people and getting a bead on their personalities and I think I am reasonably good at it. This woman scared me - she clearly knew everything and wasn't afraid to say so no matter who was listening.
Finally our visa was ready (Mrs. Worrywort is well known to Embassy personnel and they processed the visa and passport out of order, getting our documents ready before they got to other people's). Junior and I returned to our hotel, had lunch, and then went back to the room.
It was on this particular afternoon that I discovered some new and fascinating personality charactertics of Junior's. She likes to get into stuff. Like my documents files, my Swiss army knife, the first aid kit, my makeup, etc.... She finds items made specifically for children singularly boring. She like to climb on things like glasstop tables, desks, and wobbly chairs. And she likes to try to spear apple slices with her comb. She likes carrying empty shopping bags around the room and depositing her treasures therein. Like the remote control to the TV, my Swiss army knife, used envelopes, tissues, paper coasters, old pamplets, and receipts. Before we leave today I will need to empty every bag in the room lest we leave a remoteless tv in India.
We did manage to do some power shopping with my cousin Monday evening and I was able to buy gifts for pretty much everyone I know and possibly some people I don't know.
Tuesday was generally eventless, except for packing. My cousin came over to our hotel room and helped me pack. Or more accurately, she packed and I watched. Talk about maximum density. I now understand how it is she has never checked into a flight in the US without overweight baggage - she can fit a lot into a single suitcase - as long as you aren't too picky about it being organized. If you need to get to anything before you reach your final destination, heaven help you.
Tuesday afternoon after Junior's nap we made a short visit to one of my aunts who couldn't make it to Sunday's lunch. It was a pleasant visit, but I missed her son (my cousin) and his wife, as she had surgery the day before and was not yet home from the hospital.
A word about Junior's napping...I have observed that it takes Junior about an hour to settle down. It's sort of like watching a fighter jet come in for a landing. Before final approach, she's going like she's never going to stop - running around, jumping on the furniture and bouncing off the wall. Eventually she lands on the bed, but like a jet landing on an aircraft carrier, sometimes it takes multiple attempts before the aircraft is brought to a stop. Eventually Junior puts her head down, but the leg is still twitching. Finally, I hear the long, rhythmic breathing as she drifts off.
This morning, Junior and I had our first test of wills. She woke up in a grumpy mood, evidenced by the return of the baleful glare. As I wanted to get down to breakfast in short order, I marched her into the bathroom to brush her teeth. She was having none of it. She took the toothbrush from me, brushed for about 5 seconds, then looked at me and stopped. It was an oral hygiene standoff. She looked at me. I looked at her. Then I stopped looking at her. Then I held the toothbrush up to her mouth. She refused to open her mouth. It went on like this for about 5 minutes. I could see her resolve start to falter, so I carefully wriggled the toothbrush back into her mouth and completed the job. Amazingly, upon conclusion of this enounter, she resumed her smiling, happy ways. Guess she's ok with Mummy being in charge.
The next drama emerged at breakfast, only this one was far more serious. We were eating when I looked up at the TV in the hotel restaurant to see that a pilot's strike had started last night at Air India. You know, the same Air India that Junior and I were supposed to take to Mumbai to catch a connection to Amsterdam and then home. Crap. Double crap.
Rude as it was to my fellow diners, I got on the phone to Delta immediately while Junior ate her breakfast. 51 minutes later (most of it spent on hold) Junior and I were rebooked through Paris and will be leaving tonight. We're back to 2 flights instead of 3, our trip will be a mere 24 instead of 30 hours, but the best part was that they put us in Business Class for the first part of the trip (the part when you really want to sleep). I have lost count of how many dramas it has been, but suffice it to say I am so DONE with the freakin' drama.
After breakfast Junior - who is suffering from a little cold - :-( --started bouncing off the walls, so I called for a car and driver and, what else, did some more shopping. We're back at the hotel, Junior down for a nap (and yes, it took her an hour to go down today as well) and I have finished packing the new booty.
We're now just a few hours away from leaving, and I am so happy to be heading home. With Junior. Yay. YAY!!!!!
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