I'm late on this. But like my ongoing relationship with trend and fashion, I'm always the last to put on the sparkly jumpsuit or stovepipe jeans.
Last week was amazing. My super crush Obama - whose hand I personally shook and I think involuntarily licked - was brought into office. Many families (especially Ethiopian adoptive families) took a memorial photo of their baby/child standing in front of the TV while President Obama took the oath of office or sang out his inauguration speech. This seemed like a fantastic idea to me so I did the same.
However, I did not realize the set up and baby balancing that would need to occur to get the perfect shot. I didn't realize the level of injury my child would have to endure to get that perfectly balanced photo of a young baby of African origin taking in the momentous occasion of the first AA pres of the US coming into office.
I propped Misho up in a standing position in front of the TV with my feet while I manipulated over 100 digital photos. I suspended him with wire and bungy cords from the ceiling. I delayed a change of poopy diaper because god damn it, Obama was speaking and his poo could wait. I told him him to look excited that someone of direct origin to a Kenyan/Ethiopian tribe was president. He looked at me blankly. Did his best to stand up straight, and farted. Really really loudly.
It was an appropriate response for a baby. I will tell it to his first date. I recorded the sounds of the inaugural fart for posterity. Someone is going to be embarassed in 2020.
Here's a photo of real emotion - me crying every two seconds during the whole parade. Me heart Obama.
David and I live in the big cold blast known as Chicago. We have two delightful doozers, Daisy and Ulysses. David is one of those lawyerly types, and I muddle around in the non-profit world. We are in the process of bringing home a delightful baby boy named Misho. Welcome to the Big Woo!