From Russia with love

As a mother, I find myself doing things I never would have considered before.

One more day at the beach and my son is making friends with the boys on the next blanket. They become totally occupied and so their mom and I begin to chat. She and her husband have just moved here, have purchased what will be their "retirement house" and have these 3 kids under 7. They are all, she tells me, adopted from Russia.

The morning has passed and still the boys are busy busy but the 2 year old needs a nap. We call the boys in and start brushing off the sand. Her oldest asks if we can come to their house for lunch - without hesitation she asks us over. My response takes about 2 seconds longer and surprises me: sure.

So we pack up our treasures and head over to a neighborhood we never even drive through - much less visit. We round the corner, looking for their van and pull up in front of a mammoth house that sits on a corner lot of an intersecting canal, it has a circular driveway and impeccable landscaping - we are looking at 3/4 of a million dollars, easy.

How am I going to feel at ease in an environment so foreign to me? I must remember to take off my $1.98 SprawlMart flipflops before I walk on the plush carpet. Should I remind my offspring to chew with his mouth closed? What am I doing going to a complete strangers house for quesadillas and grape tomatoes? Why was I so quick to commit the next 2 hours of our day hopping in and out of their jeweltone pool and playing fetch with the dog?

My questions are answered when we get out of the truck and kids and dogs spill out of the front door with arms open wide for a little boy they met 3 hours ago but already love.