Yay!
Ileana took me grocery shopping this morning, and greeted me with the good news that the registry is back at work today. I was so relieved to hear that. I don't know how long it will take for them to process Noah's birth certificate, but at least the strike is off, which feels like a major step forward.
I had my first little test as a single parent today. (No, not the first test ever, just on this trip, and for more than just while Jerry was in the bathroom.) Jerry had to take a conference call, so he ran up to the rooftop terrace with his computer after eating a quick lunch, and I was left with the three boys. Noah was eating pasta happily in his high chair. Thank goodness the boy is a good eater, as it bought me at least five minutes. After that point, he realized his favorite parent had left the apartment. He got that very sad expression on his face and wanted out of the high chair. I got him down -- he had eaten quite a bit of food at that point -- and then he proceeded to walk around the apartment looking for Jerry, and crying (somewhat) softly. He realized he must have gone out the door, and pointed at it trying to get me to open it. I said no, and then the real crying started. Crying. Shrieking. Screaming. The other two boys grabbed some toys, ran to their bedroom, and shut the door to get away from the noise. Thanks buds, leaving me in my hour of need. I picked Noah up so that he didn't go into full-blown tantrum and bang his head against the cement floor, and tried to comfort him, distract him, anything I could do. I might have gone deaf there briefly, but the cries stopped after probably five minutes. I put him down, and he wanted his shoes on. I put them on him, which probably bought me a little goodwill, and he went to his favorite chair. I worked on all the distraction ideas I had in my bag of tricks: singing songs and acting them out with a few little playschool animals, giving him his puppy, giving him a couple balls and tossing them back and forth with him, juggling, making silly faces, etc. Poor guy just looked so sad, but eventually his eyes started to look sleepy and he fell asleep in his chair. I'm going to declare this experience a success.
I wrote all that while he had his nap, and it is a good thing that I did it then, as now it is later in the evening, and I am wiped out. I don't think I would have done justice to the details if I had waited until now. We had a tough afternoon: some crabby moods (and not just in the children, but in their mommy) and then Erik's cold went through a strange hour where he was coughing and coughing so much and spitting out a ton of phlegm. There I said it. Phlegm. Isn't that one of the absolute grossest words in the entire English language? I don't think it is quite an onomotopeoia, but practically. It always feels like phlegm starts to grow in the back of my throat everytime I hear anyone say the word. So so yuk. Anyway, poor Erik. This is an issue he has periodically when he has a cold, especially if his nose isn't blown super regularly, but it seemed especially gross and productive tonight. Maybe because we were already in a crabby mood, or maybe because we are out of town, or maybe because even though we are only on day eight we are already ready to be home. Maybe all of those together. It makes me feel like a big time wimp to admit it, but there it is. I am so thankful that we have Noah, and thankful that we signed his adoption decree, and thankful that his file is now with the national registry, but I just pray and pray and pray that we can fly through the rest of our milestones and get home.