I'm feeling a bit better. Had enough energy to do laundry today. Received a packet from Frank the other day welcoming Roman back home, and giving us instructions on how to register him with the Russian Consulate. I found this fascinating when I learned it - we must register him with Russia, and every time we move, we must update our address with the Russian Consulate. So they keep track of him until he's 18. Interesting.

We also have applied for a Social Security number, which will take a couple weeks. This is because SS won't accept the translated documents. They will translate it themselves. And that guy is on vacation for 2 weeks. So the translated documents that were acceptable to both Immigration and the American Embassy in Moscow, are not acceptable to Social Security. Bureaucracy.

Because of me being sick and us getting adjusted, I haven't had much time to just think about Roman. Being a scrapbooker, I've seen beautiful pages where mothers wish wonderful things for their children and have terrific thoughts about them. My only thoughts are, "please stop screaming" and "please sleep until 6:00am". Along with "how can you stand to be so CUTE?!" So not much introspection so far. Although I must admit, a song by Barenaked Ladies runs through my head as Roman drifts off to sleep at night. Like tonight, as Roman fell asleep (albeit struggling) on my lap...

With life just begun, my sleeping new son
has eyes that roll back in his head
They flutter and dart, he slows down his heart
and pictures a world past his bed
It's hard to believe
As I watch you breathe
Your mind drifts and weaves

When you dream,
what do you dream about?
When you dream,
what do you dream about?
Do you dream about
music or mathematics
or planets too far for the eye?
Do you dream about
Jesus or quantum mechanics
or angels who sing lullabies?

His fontanelle pulses with lives that he's lived
With memories he'll learn to ignore
And when it is closed, he already knows
he's forgotten all he knew before
But when sleep sets in
history begins
But the future will win

When you dream,
what do you dream about?
When you dream,
what do you dream about?
Are they colour or black and white,
Yiddish or English
or languages not yet conceived?
Are they silent or boisterous?
Do you hear noises just
loud enough to be perceived?
Do you hear Del Shannon's "Runaway" playing
on transistor radio waves?
With so little experience,
your mind not yet cogniscent
Are you wise beyond your few days?
When you dream,
what do you dream about?
When you dream,
what do you dream about?