shiso mama

Now that all the work inside the house has been done, we've become very lazy about everything else home related. We still haven't unpacked the huge number of boxes that have been sitting in the basement, we haven't hung up any of our art, and the outside of our house looks horrible. We did finally have a beautiful fence built, but we keep telling everyone it's just so that we can keep putting off pulling the relentless weeds that have taken over our front and back yards.

This weekend we decided that We Must Do Something About This Mess. We're starting to cringe with embarassment, especially since we get so much foot and bike traffic on our street and we keep seeing people peer over the fence at the weed lot that is our yard. Today we discovered black bamboo in the front yard. They had been hiding behind the weeds, happily growing and multiplying in the face of our neglect. Our neighbor has a beautiful plot of tall, willowy stalks that she planted when her son was born, 19 or 20 years ago. Unfortunately, they jumped whatever barrier she had constructed to contain them and have been sending out very deep and strong runners and monstrously large shoots. Do you know that in some Asian countries they use bamboo to build scaffolding? That's how strong bamboo is. We had to dig them out, yank at them, and then saw them off in pieces. Here are a ton of shoots and runners that we dug out of an approximately 2'x3' plot (we had to dig a couple of feet under ground).

That tall shoot is at least 2 and 1/2' tall. Our neighbor saw it before it came out of the ground, and she said that she's never seen one so big and fat. It's bigger than The Boy! She says that people have asked her for the shoots to cook and eat. They look like they might be really tender and tasty.

Otis feels so-so about this whole hanging out outside thing. At one point, I heard a little "Hack! Hrack! Gag!" and turned around just in time to see Otis cheerfully stuffing a huge handful of sawdust into his mouth. I ran over and tried to sweep it out with my finger, but realized that my own hands were covered with dirt, so the only thing I could really do to help was to give him a long, refreshing drink of water. He also ate lots of leaves. We eventually had to put him in the playpen so that he couldn't get himself into more trouble, but it quickly devolved into this:

"Not enough attention! Mama! Woman, come over here and feed me some leaves!"

Then we got the bad news that the ginormous pile of mulch that we PAID a couple of guys to come and haul into the backyard is stacked up in the corner, against two neighbors' fences. And since it's such a tall pile, it's essentially acting as a giant pile of mulch and will start to decompose their fences. So it's gotta be moved. I was already pretty tired, but that just put me over the edge. I came inside, took off my pants (because they're dirty of course!) and got into bed. Maybe this whole dream of having a little backyard for kid(s) to play in, and a garden for me was just a really really bad idea. Enough nature, more concrete! We're city folk after all.

As you know, my brother's getting married on F's and my fourth wedding anniversary. We're starting to get ready to head back to Taiwan. I have my dress all ready, a long white goddess gown with lots of gorgeous silkscreened patterns on it (I know I'm not supposed to wear white, but you know, it doesn't really look white). But the big question on everyone's mind is, What's Otis going to wear? The wedding will presumably start around 7ish or so, but Otis's bedtime is 6:30. and the kid gets pretty screechy tired soon afterwards. So what's a mom to do? Call her mom for advice? Well, here's the conversation that I had when I called her.

me: Hey mom, do you know what time the wedding starts?
mom: I'm not sure, but probably around 7.
me: Right. But you don't know.
mom: Probably 7.
me: Right. But you don't know for sure.
mom: But ALL weddings start at 7.
me: Uh, OK. Anyways, I guess I'm just wondering what to do about an outfit for Otis, since he probably won't even be there for any of it. Do I actually need to buy an outfit for him?
mom: Of course you have to! (nervousness creeping into her voice) Everyone will want to see him.
me: Well, I don't know about that. Everyone's there to see Shiso Bro get married, not to see Otis.
mom: But everyone has to see him. Plus, people will start arriving at like 5.
me: 5? I thought you said that the wedding wouldn't start until 7. Why would people show up at 5?
mom: People like to come early. You never know about traffic and stuff.

editorial note: my family members are the only ones who ever show up for a wedding 2 hours early.

me: That's kind of weird.
mom: Well, and we'll be there by 5.
me: Yeah, but we're family.
mom: So, yeah, for sure, he definitely needs an outfit. A really special outfit. And it's too bad he's not really walking yet, because he could be like a flower boy or a ring bearer. (voice starts to get all dreamy) He should go down the aisle! In his stroller! Leading the procession! (voice starts to get more excited/agitated by the thought of Otis looking extremely cute, rolling down the aisle, all eyes adoringly on him.
me: But you do know that he'll get really tired, and when he gets tired, he gets noisy and starts screaming.
mom: Oh nooooooooo! And probably when he sees all those people, he just won't be tired anymore! Absolutely you have to buy something very nice to wear!

You can see this wedding is going to be excellent fun for Otis and for his handlers (me and F). Although I'm absolutely positive that my mom will have several outfits waiting for him when we arrive in Taiwan, I can't help but feel like I should also have something ready, so I've been looking around. I guess you could say that I've embarked on a journey to the darker side.

It's so unfair. Girls get such cute outfits. According to the children's clothing lobby, all girls love to wear frilly pink dresses to drink afternoon tea, and all boys only like to wear casual clothes so that they can roll around in dirt and trash. Although I see the appeal in such comfy clothes, I just wish there were more options. Here are some of the results of my research.

Of course, there's the old fancy standby, the tuxedo. Since it's summertime, we might want to consider the white tux, or even better the shorts tux.

If we found F a matching white tux, then they would give these two a run for their money:

Then there's the suit. For some reason, the "suits" that I saw were all attached, as though they were a suit onesie. But with lots and lots of layers. Even the tie seemed stitched on. You know, to avoid the choking. Some were three piece suits. Some were tweed, others seersucker. But we're going to a wedding in a tropical country, people. At the beginning of summer. This baby would bake.

The other "fancy" options seems to be the sailor suit. Why is that considered fancy? When I see real live sailors, I don't think, Boy, those good-lookin' sailors must be on their way to a party! It must be the undercover navy agents working in the garment industry.

That kinda exhausts our fancier options. After looking around a local children's clothing store blankly for some time, trying to get my eyes to focus on something, anything wearable, I finally asked a salesgirl for some help (and by the way, why do such stores only employ 20 year old girls whose ovaries are already aching?). F always says that the best way for a salesperson to lose me as a customer is to approach me - I prefer ALWAYS to shop undisturbed - but I was hoping that she could show me something I just wasn't seeing. Her response to my query, "Do you have anything less, uh, preppy?" was this:

except that instead of a white shirt, there was a multi-colored striped polo shirt. And instead of dark pants, they were orange plaid madras pants. I've become a convert to the baby sweater vest, but this I couldn't get behind. She sort of half-apologized, saying perkily, "Uh, I guess I kind of like the preppy look!"

At this point, I'm starting to think, you know, outside of the box. I saw this pair of really cute sweater shorts with suspenders. The comparison that would probably conjure up the most accurate image would be lederhosen. Unfortunately, they were sold out.

And it is a well-documented fact that I love dressing Otis up as a cowboy. I'm not ruling it out. Maybe I just need to find a "fancy" cowboy outfit.

Maybe I should just forget about it. I don't really have the time or energy for this. I should probably just let it go, and let my mom do the shopping, which would be just about the best Mother's Day present I could possibly give her.

I'm being terrorized by POO.

The past three days, I've thought about changing from his cloth diaper to his landfill diaper before his nap, and EACH DAY, I've thought, Nah, he couldn't possibly poo. wrong wrong wrong. How could I not learn, especially after the first vegetarian chili diaper?

There's the gross factor. Then there's the fact that even if he's so tired that his eyes are droopy droopy, the poo will act like a speedy little espresso, and he'll bounce around, awake as can be. Until, of course, you try to take him out to run an errand, and he'll start rubbing his eyes and staring at me accusingly, like I was the one who wouldn't let him sleep. He was so tired that one day, he basically fell asleep in the car with his eyes open. And then wouldn't wake up even when I jiggled his foot repeatedly. That's pretty amazing for one of the world's lightest sleepers.

Today I finally learned my lesson. I changed his diaper before his nap, and so far so good. Hopefully he'll sleep well today for Espresso Co-Ed while I'm off at work.

Too much blogging about other junk, not enough Otis? Well, here are some random uninteresting factoids about or related to the Boy:

1. When we bring him into bed in the morning for to hang out for a little bit, he dodges any attempts at cuddling and tries to climb over us ASAP! to grab at all the things on our nightstand. We have now tried to placate him by having a thing or two at the ready so that we can keep our lazy butts in bed for a few extra precious minutes. F keeps his watch - always a winner - which Otis likes to slip on and off his wrist. I keep a set of colorful crochet hooks, which he sucks on, bangs together or tries to drop between the mattress and the headboard.

2. When Otis first started shaking his head no, I start nodding vigorously try to add something positive to his life. Yes, baby, there are things you can do! But do them tidily! Maybe it just confused him. Now he loves to nod emphatically ALL THE TIME. A slightly modified version of this is when we get into the car and the music comes on, he likes to nod his head to the music. The White Stripes have procured particularly enthusiastic bobbing of the head.

3. His current favorite looks - the scrunched up nose with squinty eyes, like the kid is trying to look at something tiny and think at the same time, and it's slightly taxing; and the fists of fury, which makes his whole body shake (see post from earlier this week).

4. No big surprise, but the kid lurves peekaboo. Even when he was really little, strangers tried to play peekaboo all the time with him. I was kinda like, Yo dude, the kid can't even see you, much less put together this whole idea of object permanence, so what up with you acting like that? Now I get it. His life would be sad and empty without peekaboo.

5. Fifth Aunt Grandma K brought Otis the best present a boy could ever want: a couple of real live phones (these were the original phones, you know, the ones you had to rent from the phone company, before you could buy any fancier models?). This was sure genius on her part. Lookit him:

6. And last, but most certainly not least, a simple equation:

vegetarian chili + cloth diapers = A VERY BAD IDEA

Never forget this. F and I will never be the same ever again.

Last night I babysat Jack while Tiff and Kieran went out for a few hours. I’ve been waiting for ages for them to ask me since we live close and they have TV AND cable. We decided not to unpack our TV here in our new digs, so I was happy to get my fix of truly bad reality TV and sappy movies.

Jack slept most of the time I was there, though I had to help him get back to sleep a couple of times. It feels like it’s been a long time since I’ve held such a youngun, and it was a funny experience to hold and take care of someone else’s baby (this was my first real babysitting gig. ever). Tiff and Kieran may feel a little creeped out if they hear about this, but I smelled Jack’s head, let him hold my finger, and yes, I even man-handled his feet (although I’m glad to report that it wasn’t as pleasurable as molesting my own baby’s feet). While I was feeding him his bottle, he beat at my chest with his little fist in that cute little baby way.

These days I’ll look at Otis and think that he just looks and acts so much older now. He’s so much fun, but some days I think I miss the idea of a little baby. No no, I think I just miss the platonic ideal of a little baby. But all I gots to say is, if I get knocked up, I’m totally blaming Tiff and Kieran.

This week's theme for the whipup whiplash competition is "your surly side." Some of my detractors, I mean "friends," have suggested that maybe this might be a pretty easy concept for me. Ahem! I don't know what you mean by this scurrilous comment, but I'm pretty sure that you're looking for a fight. Don't think I won't fight you. I'll do it, and I'll do it while I'm holding the baby.

No, actually, I had a lot of trouble thinking of something I wanted to do. But here's my entry, a sort of self-portrait, if you will. It's a stuffed porcupine who needs love. I mean, a person can't be surly ALL the time, can they? Maybe? F says that it also looks like a prickly dinosaur, or maybe it could be a blowfish, and I'm open to those interpretations.

In the spirit of using what i have, which I've been seeing a lot of on many crafty blogs, I just used materials that I had at home. I crocheted her quills out of little bits of extra yarn that I have been hoarding and I sewed her body out of an old sweater that has been sitting for ages, unworn, at the bottom of my sweater drawer. I threw it into the wash and dryer to felt it up a little so she's actually pretty soft. And she's sticking her tongue out.

Then you can sit her on her bottom, exposing her soft vulnerable belly. She wants you to hug her. Go ahead, do it. Just be careful of her sharp side. Here she is with her friends.

If we're going to take this whole self-portrait idea a step further, which one of you friends o' mine wants to be the pig, and which one wants to be the chicken?

hey people, check me out, i won!

update: by the way, have you seen the new contest theme for this week? it’s “your surly side.” if you’re crafty, get a move on! i’m already working on mine…

Oh (3) faithful readers o’ mine, have you been lying awake at night, tossing and turning, wondering how my vegetarian cooking experiment has been going? I feel your pain. No, really. I FEEL your pain. I have been doing some cooking. I’ve made baked ziti, and couscous with sundried tomatoes and chickpeas. But the food un-deliciousness has been hitting me really hard lately, so it’s been hard to motivate to cook. Just last night, I made boxed macaroni and cheese, which I haven’t done since it seemed like such a novel, exciting idea in 3rd grade.

And I gotta say, I’m not sure our beloved Espresso Co-Ed is really into it anyways. So why is she a vegetarian, you ask? My best guess is that she wants to save the world from the overpopulation of fried breaded soy bits of all varieties. No, it’s because she’s in college, of course! She’s conscientious! She cares about the Earth! And she’s in college! (I’m personally also holding out hope that she’ll be stricken by that other college affliction, the LUG phenomenon, but alas, it may be too much to ask.) Anyways, I’ve been trying to think of different ways to cook healthful vegetarian meals, and she still kinda gets that look that I saw on her face that first time she tried fried calamari.

So tonight I made vegetarian chili, with butternut squash and TVP. Now here’s a question to the inventor of TVP - It seems like you spent a good deal of time and care coming up with the concept, why didn’t you just spend a tad bit more time coming up with a more creative name? So I made said chili, and was trying it and dialing F on the phone at the same time to ask him to buy some sour cream, and I accidentally inhaled a piece of TVP. I almost died! See, people? Vegetarianism is BAD for you! It can KILL. I was almost kilt dead by soy protein!

F sounded very puzzled when he answered the phone, asking why I sounded so weird. “Oh, I choked on some TVP.” silence. “You know, Textured Vegetable Protein.” silence. another beat. “Ohhhhhh!” followed by peals of laughter.

But in all seriousness, it hasn’t been that bad. And the TVP isn’t that bad either. I had to leave before we all sat down to dinner, but halfway through dinner, the Co-Ed suddenly looked up and asked F, “Hey, is this meat?” And although I probably won’t be snacking on the stuff, like the guy at the grocery store suggested that I do (I tried it, it was worse than the freeze-dried “astronaut” food you can buy at the Air and Space Museum), I will probably try to cook with it again. Stay tuned for more exciting vegetarian cooking!

This morning, Otis and I went on our morning walk, and took a detour past the first house that F and I made a bid on during our exhausting search for the (non-existent) perfect home. Man, I loved that house - it’s set on a quiet little street, protected by all these big huge trees, with an artist studio in the front and a small pool in the back. You have to walk over a little footbridge to cross a gently babbling brook and pass under the eaves of a very old, gnarly fig tree to get to the front door. The attempt to buy that house nearly did us in, because the woman who was selling the house didn’t really want to let go of the place that she and her deceased husband had raised their family in. I was pretty heartbroken at the time because I had already started to envision our lives unfolding there. This morning walking past the house, I saw why I thought it was charming at the time, but was really truly glad that we didn’t end up there. For years now, my mom has talked about how “if you were meant to have it, then it will be yours,” as a general philosophy of life. It’s only in more recent ones that I’ve really begun to believe it myself. I’m so glad we ended up where we are. Damn, mom’s right again! And I can say that more with much more acceptance now that I’m a mom too and I can start being right about EVERYTHING.

On Friday, Otis, Espresso Co-Ed and I went to the new De Young Museum in Golden Gate Park after a quick trip to replenish our pork bun supply at the good bakery in the Sunset. The De Young looks pretty freaking fantastic, and boy was it crowded (it helped that it was actually a nice day). It makes me happy to see so many patrons of the arts. I hope they manage to keep their numbers high. We didn’t get inside, but we pressed our noses against the glass of the sparkly Education Center, which looks like an amazing space with lots of hands-on activities for the kiddies. The Co-Ed went off to look at textiles while Otis and I had lunch and then checked out the 20th century art and the crafts, my favorites. We saw a lot of great art, and Otis really seemed to enjoy himself. Between my recent trip to the SFMoma and this trip, I’m almost starting to feel cultural again.

My favorite parts of the museum - the observation tower, where you can see terrific views of the city from all sides (Me: “Otis! Look at the view! You can see the water, and all the houses, and see how small the people look!” Otis: “Hey, I’ve got shoelaces!”), and my MOST favorite, this amazing installation of Ruth Asawa crocheted wire sculptures in the atrium at the elevator entrance to the top of the observation tower. Man, she’s amazing. The sculptures are so light and ethereal and tactile.