The hard life...

So I've been spending time at the local orphanage again, and they finally got their act together and have us working with the same group on a schedule, now. That means that the children are finally getting to know us. The system is really good there, but good as in daycare good, not good as in home good. When you walk into the room, all the three-year-olds start yelling "mama?" and sometimes when we are playing they just walk up and touch my arms, or just start crying because they are getting attention and it is over stimulating. Some of them are clearly autistic or have other disabilities and some of them don't, some of them can talk, some of them are really quiet and shy. One tiny blond girl showed me the game that I taught her last December when I thought she wasn't even paying attention.

The hardest case, though, is Asya. She is smart and lively and doesn't cry when we leave or when she has to wait. She loves Adam and follows him around screaming with laughter. She is patient and funny and just adorable. She also is very unlikely to be adopted because she doesn't have blond hair and blue eyes, and we had to sit and watch some of the most racist cartoons I have ever seen with them, Asya as always totally paying attention and answering questions. Last time she asked me to be her mama...what do you say to that? I can't stop thinking about it. If I could somehow put her on hold for enough years to have a job and a place and a situation in which I could raise a child, I would. It's even free to adopt Russian children. I don't know how I'll be able to handle leaving her behind in Russia when I come home...