We found out Tuesday that Tariku made it through court in Ethiopia, which means Scott and I are legally his parents now. It also means I can post his picture. I know. He’s beyond.
I spend my mornings writing the memoir and my afternoons running all over town buying tub toys and cloth diapers and malaria medication. It’s like living in the past and the future with no present in between.
We’re waiting to find out our exact date of travel. I just want him home already.
Overnighter to SF to read in Michelle Tea’s RADAR Reading Series at the San Francisco Public Library. After the performance we had a question and answer. Michelle ran back and forth from the podium giving cookies to anyone who asked a question. She was like a gorgeous little cookie fairy in a sweater from Goodwill with a bunch of gold appliques. Michelle is so fucking fashionable. If I wore that sweater, I’d look like the president of the local Hadassah chapter.
Here I am afterwards with my San Francisco Leo ladies. God, I miss those gals. I left my family jewels at Jennifer’s house. She’s halfway to Peru by now, no doubt.
Straight from the baby shower to Rhapsodomancy at The Good Luck Bar. I read with Trebor Healey, Jerry Pyle and Lavonne Caesar.
We held Tariku’s shower at Messob on Fairfax. Our friends each brought their favorite children’s book and I sat around afterwards with my neighbors Suzanne and Cynthia and had a great time looking though everyone’s contributions to Tariku’s library. We got everything from Goodnight Moon to The Snowy Day to And Tango Makes Three. The exceptionally talented Sarah Kim made a cake that looked like a book with Peter Rabbit on the cover.
This video is going around on the Ethiopian adoption forum that I frequent. The organization that made it is a little bit too religious for me, but I like the video. I like the idea of rethinking our perceptions and our conversations. I’ve been spending a good portion of my days obsessing over new table linens (this is how I work out anxiety) and throwing my credit card around at Sur La Table like I am Martha Stewart herself. I’m making myself sick but I can’t seem to stop. I wake up every morning convinced that a set of rooster-shaped napkin rings are going to make the world right.
I’ve also been fielding a series of uncomfortable questions from well-meaning retail clerks who can’t understand why I would be having a baby shower if I don’t have a big belly. When I explain that I’m adopting, they invariably express their support for this great act of charity on my part. Then they ask what happened to Tariku’s “real” parents. I explain ten times a day that, in fact, Scott and I are Tariku’s real parents. And that we are building a family, not acting out of charity. The charity goes the other way. I need Africa more than Africa needs me.