Andry became a champion sharp-shooter when he was in Spain on the Chernobyl Children program. His host parents for the summer had discovered he had a talent for shooting target. They had taken him to a series of shooting events, and eventually he won two championships.
We knew target shooting was his thing. So, when we were looking for a special event for Sunday, since we had no adoption procedures until Monday, I (Ron) looked on-line and found a target shooting range about 30 kilometers outside of Kiev.
We timed the short trip so we would reach the shooting range around lunch; they had told Yelena on the phone that they had a restaurant on the premises.
When we pulled in we were very pleasantly surprised. This place was far more than a little target shooting range. The place was enormous.
There were young girls in a riding ring with fine horses; an archery range; a Russian tank to ride on rough ground; a building just for pistol practice; a knife and star-throwing section fit for a ninja; another building to shoot kalisnikov’s and other sub machine guns; and other ranges for other purposes we could only guess at.
There were animals all over the place. Many were in pens, others wandered wherever they liked.
Yet there was something serious about the place. (We discovered later, from one of the employees, that the Mafia used the place for practice; another suggested they owned the place. Another said bandits came here to practice; he didn’t define bandits.
We sat and had a coffee and ordered our lunch and then went to shoot pistols and arrows until lunch was ready. Sadly, we knew this day wasn’t going to work out well. We actually knew it the minute Andry got out of bed and walked into the kitchen. He acted unhappy. He responded to every question or comment the same way, an abrupt monosyllable. When asked what was bothering him he said, “nothing.” In the car he sat in the back seat with Pippa, quiet, not responding to any of Pippa’s attempts to break the spell.
Despite all the fun things this place offered, he remained stoic. He and Pippa went to the pistol range. Olya, Yelena and I went to the archery range.
With my (Pippa) one-on-one attention Andry softened. He said he would only shoot if I did too. This was the first time he made an effort to engage any of us all day. So of course I shot the pistol. If my target had been a real, bad-guy he would have simply limped away. Andry’s first bullet would have stopped his villain cold.
Olya was already skilled with a bow and arrow from her practice at our farm in North Georgia. In a minute or so, she was hitting the target every time, something an older boy before her couldn’t do.
We took a break for lunch and all of us met at the restaurant. Andry was his sullen self and soon Olya was acting the same way. Bad moods are contagious. I (Ron) took Olya out of earshot of everyone and asked her why she was acting like Andry. She didn’t know why. I (Pippa) also talked to Olya about happiness being a choice and not being dependent on someone else for her happiness.
Andry announced he no longer wanted to shoot a pistol; he wanted to shoot with the bow and arrow instead. I knew trouble was coming but we went to the archery range anyway. I was right. Unfortunately.
Andry was first at the archery range. He didn’t want me to tell him how to do anything, so I didn’t. He wanted to start with the long bow instead of the easier to use, cross bow.
His first five arrows weren’t awful, but a couple of arrows missed the target altogether. He walked off discouraged and disgruntled wanting nothing to do with archery. Yelena went after him and put her arm around him; they stayed like that in a deep conversation for a long time. We were glad he had someone he felt he could talk to but wished it was us.
In the meantime, Olya was having a good time. She was right on target nearly every shot. The archery supervisor took a shine to Olya’s performance and kept adding balloons to the target to make it more interesting for her. As she would pop one balloon, he would replace it with two.
Perhaps an hour passed before Yelena and Andry came back over. Olya was ready to stop and the next group in line was waiting for their turn. Yelena announced Andry wanted to shoot the pistols again and the group walked over to the pistol building. It turns out they also could shoot rifles and machine guns there as well. Olya stayed for Andry’s first shots and then went outside because the noise, even with the noise-deafening earphones, was loud. Andry finished shooting with the pistol and then shot a few rounds with the largest rifle I had ever seen. I took a few posed photos after the real shooting was over since the camera flash would have been disturbing.
Andry had great accuracy and we made sure to “ooo” and “aaah” over the paper targets with the holes in the middle. All the praise made him smile.
The afternoon over, Pippa, Yelena and I walked over to pay the bill. It was also the first opportunity we’d had to be alone with Yelena to find out what had transpired in her conversation with Andry.
The essence of their conversation was he is jealous of Olya’s relationship with us. Not that he articulated it that way, but he wants what she already has and what Ron and I are working hard to develop with him, a close, caring relationship.
He is convinced we care more about her, we praise her all the time and spend more time with her. Then he explained to Yelena what had happened most recently to bother him. He said the night before he, Olya and I had all been together watching TV and not talking. He left the room then Olya and I started talking; that we won’t talk when he is around.
What he said is true but he missed some parts. The night before Olya, Andry and I had been watching TV. Olya and Andry were tickling and being goofy. Olya pretended to kiss Andry. Annoyed, Andry marched off to his room. I took this quiet opportunity to practice Olya’s multiplication tables. Our “conversation” he heard from the other room was me saying, “Olya, what is 6X4?”
While it’s hard to deal with, I think the jealousy could be a good sign. He really wants what Olya has, a close relationship with us, his new parents. We have to find more ways to inter-act, bond and be physically affectionate with him. WE’RE TRYING!!
We think hugging is something Andry never had, wants badly, but doesn’t know how to make it happen. He never hugs me (and definitely not Ron) but seems to really like it when I touch him; much different than Olya was when we were in Ukraine adopting her. Whenever possible, I make a point to rub his back, massage is hands, ruffle his hair, pat his knee… He told me as a child he remembers being alone all the time. Maria was “no there.”
After the shooting place, we all piled into the van and drove back to Kiev. Olya fell asleep and Andry and I had a free-flowing conversation. He told me that he does not want to see Maria and Nikolai anymore. (This sure makes life easier for us!) He said that when he was in the orphanage, Maria and Nikolai were all he had, so they were important to him, but now they are not. He said we are now important to him.
Andry went to bed early, shortly after dinner; he usually stays up past midnight so we were concerned about his change in habit. He said he was tired and wanted to be ready to get up early.
We had told him that tomorrow was going to be a busy day doing legal stuff for him. We went though the steps necessary before we can go home on Saturday: having the legalization of all our papers complete which is what we need to give the passport office; taking the passport to get a medical exam; taking everything to the American Embassy Thursday morning because the American Embassy is closed on Friday. Without all this, we can’t get on the plane on Saturday.
He asked for a paper and pencil as he was going into his room. I (Ron) gave him one of the blank journals we’d brought along in case one or both of the kids wanted to make a journal.
I (Pippa) to spend time with him to lessen his isolation, asked if I could read my book in his room with him where it was quiet. He seemed happy for the company. Andry sat by the window writing in the journal while I read on the bed.
As the sun set I went to the window to see it. Andry quickly closed his journal as I approached. I used this opportunity tell him about my own journals and blogs; how writing your thoughts down can be really helpful. I explained that there was no need to close his journal if he was writing in Spanish or Ukrainian because I couldn’t read what he was writing. But even if I could read those languages I still wouldn’t read his journal. His journal was private. He didn’t understand “private” so I explained, “when you take your clothes off and want the door closed.” He got it. I left him alone for a while to write and checked on Olya who was busy ichatting.
Better understanding his need for interaction, I went back in later with the language workbook I had brought for him. Sitting next to him, I showed him the pages I wanted him to complete. He turned down the volume on the TV show he was watching and got to work without a complaint. Together we went over his answers, which were almost all correct. I told him what a good job he had done and how proud I was of him.
The pages finished he asked if wanted to watch TV with him. When I said “yes” he went into the controls and switched the program from Ukrainian to English so I would understand what Pugsley, Wednesday, Morticia and the husband, whose name I can’t remember, were saying. Andry said the Adam’s Family with the mother, father and son and daughter were our family. We laughed.
When the show was over I left to have a “multiplication conversation” with Olya and then, so Andry wouldn’t feel left out, went back to his room to have a “multiplication conversation” with him.
(Ron now.) Pippa reminded me to take him the white chocolate I’d bought for him at the Mega Market. I knocked on his door and walked in. The room was completely dark.
I asked, “Awake?” He answered “yes.”
“Want your chocolate?”
He reached over and took the chocolate from me. “Thanks.”
That’s the first time he’s ever thanked either of us without prompting.
I left Pippa in the living room spelling words for Olya who was ichatting with her grandfather.
“I’m really wiped. Going to bed. See you in a couple of days.”
Before going to bed I (Pippa) went to Andry’s room to tuck him in. I rubbed his back and told him that his Dad and I wished he had always been our son; that I wished I had been able to read him stories, drive him to school, make birthday cakes for him and teach him to swim.
He asked me what “wish” means.
I made another sentence with wish. “I wish we could go to Miami in the morning.”
He said, “I understand.”
1 comment:
Hi, we are going to be coming to Ukraine in September and hopefully adopting older children. Could you let me know what language book you were talking about that you are having Andry work in? Thanks. Tracey O'Hara
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