The sun is on my back. I'm cleverly shading Lu and hope he will wind down and take a nap. We're at the pool with other expats and some local families. We just had the best breakfast across the street at the Euro cafe: maple infused pancakes, sausage, home fries, fruit ( pineapple, lime, lemony orange), eggs with white yolks, bacon...with cappuccinos.  Competitive with any trendy Portland brunch place. Many adoptive parents have said this before, but we would all prefer children to be raised in their own cultures by their own families. Even if aunts or grandmas raise them. We hope we are adopting those that won't thrive in their own families, and in their own communities. We met a Welsh filmmaker today who adopted a child from Uganda many years ago and lives and works here now on child trafficking issues. Child trafficking is largely funded by international adoption and the large amounts of money involved. This isn't the forum or time to get into this but it's certainly something we talk about and are trying to educate ourselves on. We have met the birth mother and grandparents and believe our case is legit, but you never know. Might there be an alternative that supports that family so they could care for Luke? Although that's a good idea to implement, this Luke would likely be dead- like the 4 other children in the family. But that's a story for Luke to tell. 

eric and lu

Since I have become a parent: it's as if I lost an arm (left arm now just holds a baby) and introspection occurs only at dawn (before anyone wakes). So I am learning to spread peanut butter and cut pineapple one-handed; and write at home in an email draft then paste it into my blog when I am near internet. Internet is a half mile walk away, down a red dust road into town. Some boys will stare, the girls will laugh at the freak show we are. They genuinely seem to wonder how a black child came from my loins. Reverse albinism I tell the folks in dare.
 We have found a nice little town to stay in (a town basically swallowed by Kampala) but it is relatively quiet, lush with palms and banana trees, and near a country club and Euro cafe with Internet. Its early morning now and I awoke to long, lyrical bird song, yet fell asleep to some repetitive woman waling over a steady bass beat. Religious chanting? CD skipping? Pollution, including noise pollution, is sort of the way of Kampala. The city smells of burnt plastic. And it is. They're burning it outside your window. I made an error earlier comparing Kampala to the East Village. Think Canal St. (with goats and chickens and mangy dogs). Everyone lined up hawking whatever, like a never-ending thrift store - unfortunately, none of it worthy of bringing home, no momemtos or bright African print fabrics).
 Today we'll get our membership at the country club. There's a pool, WiFi, tennis and restaurant and maybe a chance to meet others. It's easy to indulge when you spend most of your days darting stares; walking almost 2 hours to a bank in the moist heat, and 2 hours back, with a baby strapped to you; just as far to get a decent loaf of bread (quite good! we found a French patisserie with brioche chocolat, fresh multi grain breads); and other errands on a packed minibus-taxi (like a westfalia) into the city which is like going to a Rick Springfield concert in '84. Yes. Without question, we deserve a poolside moment.

So let's talk about Lukuli (Lou-KOOL-lee). Since he just woke he'll let me know how much I can tell. Once he came home with us he was a different sort of guy. He slept a solid 11 hours and woke up smiling. And basically he's been that way ever since. So maybe you're not so traumatized.?? Maybe you realized our milk was from a cow and we have cheese and you never looked back? We have even returned to the babies home, and met with his primary caretaker there, and he seems to be plenty comfortable with us.

Except today. He likes to go out in the day, or he gets bored and antsy. We were a little slow getting ready to go to the pool and he had a complete meltdown. Eric and I are discovering how to parent together and I presume are falling into pitfalls familiar to all parents before us. I will be practicing quiet dignity while said child yanks on my hair and cries and grabs at hot oatmeal with his hand. Here at the pool now, he clings to me like a scared koala and makes me feel most wanted. By the way, the pool and resort were last updated in 1973. It's not exactly the resort I envisioned, more like an old American govt pool with red clay tennis courts and screaming kids in the pool. (It was the old American embassy club that has since become more community-based.)

:-) :-) 

Luke turns one

Luke's 1st birthday is today! We came upon some random balloons in the pizza place and the party started. I think we'll run down the aisle in the Italian market and look for some toy cars to race on the kitchen tile tonight. Two more days until we head back to court. Time is just dragging. We're stir crazy and anxious and bored and miss our dogs and cats and life. Though we are hanging at a muzunga cafe (white person) cafe enjoying iced lattes, so we're mnot totally hurting. Luke is bored so I guess we can't lounge too long...

No electricity to write

I envisioned writing every night, posting lots of photos, sharing this great experience with everyone. But you need electricity to do that. The storms here take out the electricity weekly, and then, hey, sunny days do too it turns out. We've been living in a busy equivalent of the East Village but imagine it with goats, chickens, mangy dogs (I can't even look at the dogs). It's a nice apartment with a balcony and many views down into everybody's backyards. We spy a lot and probably know things we shouldn't.

Baby Luke is with us. We pronounce it Lukka or call him Lukuli (a street nearby here that leads to some lush er areas.) We are moving in a week to this greener area up on the hill where there is a veranda and 3 well-cared for German Shepherds (people have guard dogs, not really pets). He is a funny kid. It's all very strange becoming parents suddenly, and then sorting through the stresses of walking the streets with Howz your baby? Wherez the mother? Mostly people are cool and thank you for having Jesus in your heart to have helped out.

I'm runnin gout of internet time, nee to grab diapers and head back to camp. Dec. 17 the judge will make her ruling as to whether Eric and I are fit to be parents. She really didn't like that I was going to be the primary earner. How could a man raise a baby? Ask my brother. He did a great job. So Luke is not ours and we are not sure if things will pan out in our favor. Strange that it has been reduced to making a good income- after a year of prep and waiting and hoping.

A day in the life....

breakfast

mami and luke

barefeet and sock

mami and tiny Luke