Coming Home

Katie looks on as Mason plays DS

And so it has finally come to this -- our last day in China.  We've spent the afternoon packing and discovering that we are actually leaving with less than with what we came.  I don't believe I've taken the time in this blog to espouse my full-on endorsement of "Space Saver Bags" -- you know, that "As Seen on TV" product that vacuum packs your bulkiest clothing?  Space Saver bags work (Mason is a pro -- he managed to condense 40 diapers into a 1" thick layer that lay on the bottom of my luggage) and have made the re-condensation of our clothing fairly easy.

Although it has been a long trip for him, Mason is reluctant to leave this "Platinum 5 Star Hotel," as he does his best to take full advantage of all the luxuries this facility has to offer him.  He has played squash and ping pong, taken steams and saunas, and every morning, indulged in crispy bacon and waffles smothered in whip cream.  He describes our bright and spacious suite as "deluxury" and he is convinced that there will be no hotel in his future that will meet this rich standard.

Indeed, it has been a  nice way to end our trip and it does have a way of making the idea of re-immersion into real life a bit daunting.  Now we'll have to begin figuring out what our life together is going to look like in earnest and I am also taking the time to mourn the change from what life once was.  Tonight, Mason told me that he is angry with me because I still treat him "like a 5 year old -- telling me to wash my hands and say "please" and "thank you" all the time," but mostly he said he is angry because he misses spending time with me that we used to.  I miss him deeply, too, and to hear this from him makes me very sad.  I told him that it will not always be this way -- that we will get to a place where Katie feels more comfortable with her new family and he and I can find ways to carve time for just the two of us.

It is, of course, hard to imagine when that time will actually be-- especially now, when she is screaming on my lap as I write this. She has been screaming for over an hour, unable to recover from a nightmare that shook her awake.  She is, in these moments, a little body possessed -- a completely different person than we see in the day -- frantic and unreachable.  She has a repetitive crying-moan that is at once melodic and grating....it would be a lie to say I don't have moments of feeling overwhelmed by what the next several weeks may look like.  As Aron says, right now, "Mommy is a high chair, carseat, and crib."   -- we have a long way to go.  I guess I'll have to blog about that, too.....  ;0