shiso mama

Yesterday I rushed out and bought a crib tent and some sleep sacks in our ongoing battle for a return to sleepful nights. This afternoon, I installed it. Here it is.

I hate it. And not just because it’s an eyesore. I hate it because it’s an admission of defeat on my part. When the sleep problems started, I was convinced that it was due to separation anxiety brought on by the babysitter putting Otis down for a nap instead of me. But now, I think it’s grown and changed into something different. At first, we felt guilty and wanted to ease his way back into feeling secure, sitting next to him until he fell asleep. But his sleep problems didn’t get better, they got worse, growing into a multitude of night wakings and restless nights. We tried bringing him into bed with us; we tried sleeping on his floor; those solutions did not work either.

Then one night, I developed a migraine so bad that I couldn’t stand next to his bed or lay down with him, so I let him cry. And he slept better. And we slept better. That led to the new attempt at crying it out. But, much to our horror, he started throwing himself out of the crib. The first time was a mistake and it surprised him as much as us, but he soon learned that it was an effective way to get us back into the room. He didn’t care if he hurt himself, launching himself over the side time and again. If we left him alone, he wandered around his room, throwing all his belongings around and moaning. If we came back in and set him back in his crib every time he climbed out, he would set into motion a wordless dance that would continue for hours. We moved everything out of his room. We were all covered in bruises. And still no one was getting any sleep.

We moved towards the technique of coming into his room when he cries, but only to lay him back down to sleep. Yesterday, we put him into one of these sleeping sacks, which we heard was effective in keeping toddlers from climbing out of their beds. He slept into half hour increments starting at midnight, and as dawn approached, he figured out that even if he didn’t have the full use of his legs, he could still use his arms to pull himself up and over the side of the crib, head first. In the time that it took for one of us to lay him down and walk towards the door, his head was already on its way to the sofa cushions we had set on the floor to protect him.

So here we are, with the crib tent. It feels like I have failed. I have not been able to come up with a creative and sensitive solution for our sleep problems, and we now are going to depend on this tool of containment. Love has not worked, nor has ruthlessness. I feel like I haven’t been able to parent consistently because I just don’t know what to do when my child proves himself willing and able to hurt himself without a second thought. He keeps upping the ante, and I’m at an utter loss. On top of this, I also felt like a terrible fraud this afternoon when we introduced him to the tent. F and I paraded around his room, playing an elaborate game of charades, pretending that we use it to play peekaboo! no, it’s a teepee! woowee, it this thing fun or what? all the while wondering, why are we lying to a baby, won’t it be painfully obvious to him what the true function of this contraption is?

But now at least, I feel like he is safe. I even bought a video monitor to spy on him so that I know that he’s cocooned inside his crib. Next thing you know, I’ll be buying him a harness. He’s asleep now, as he usually is in the early hours of the night, but we’ll see what happens as the night progresses.

It feels like one day, one recent day that passed by us without much notice, Otis became a different boy.

Before, he didn’t couldn’t communicate. He had a very short attention span, had no patience and little interest for his toys, easily grew needy and whiney. I wasn’t sure what was going on - was it developmental? Was a fact of Otis’s personality? Or was attention span another one of those things I had to teach Otis, just like sleeping? I sought the advice of a couple of trained professionals whose advice I admire. You can see my question and the response here.

Soon after I received their response, I started to detect the beginnings of change. Otis began to communicate better. His ability to understand us, and to make us understand him, have grown exponentially. He’s using his signs, and he’s picking up new words, quickly. Often, when I show him new signs, or reinforce little-used old ones, he’ll study my hands, then smile and nod as though processing. This may be a little projection, but it’s reassuring.  Well, and maybe the boy’s a genius, but he learned the signs for “cookie” and “ice cream” in zero seconds flat.

He is less intent on merely exploring and destroying, and more interested in playing. He’s starting to show more interest in his toys, and will take the time to figure them out. He’ll test out various methods to see what works and he seems to have developed certain rules for how particular toys should be played with. He’s interested in interacting with people, making eye contact and sharing jokes, not just with solely receiving attention. When you show him how to do something - play with a toy, use a tool - he’s attentive and watchful, and then tackles the task himself.

Whereas a few weeks ago, Otis played with one toy for a minute or two and then quickly ran off to explore something else, now he’ll sit for extended periods and play with one item. He loves the cars that Fifth Aunt Grandma K bought for him (BUT I SWEAR, HE ONLY NEEDS 3 OF THEM!!), and he’ll just sit and play with them forever, pushing them around and making car sounds, sometimes one in each hand. In fact, all of the sudden, we often have trouble stopping a particular play session in order to do something else. What a change.

On top of all this, he’s now showing an interest in his art materials, which makes me very happy. Of course, now he’s mostly interested in taking them out of the box, reinserting them, and making a huge show out of taking the caps off, but I think the interest in actually drawing will emerge soon. Until then, we’ll use his etch-a-sketch or these magically clever markers that Fifth Aunt Grandma K bought for him (thank god) so that ink does not get all over him, us, and our new house.

In case you haven’t heard enough about our stuff, Apartment Therapy SF featured Otis’s room for its kids’ month Nursery Show and Tell.  You can see it (and us) here.

In honor of the 100th of my collage series, I’ve decided to write a little bit about the process and the materials. Sorry it took me so long to get to it, Mary P.

Unless you’ve been around for a while (unfortunately, many more than 100 days), you may not know the thinking behind this collage a day project. This was meant to be an easy, stress-free way to get into the practice of making art every day, without laboring over one important and significant Work of Art. It doesn’t have to take long, it doesn’t have to be perfect, and I don’t even have to like the finished product as long as I keep working at it. And I’ve accomplished my goals for the most part. Unfortunately, I haven’t managed to make one every day, allowing myself to take breaks here and there, but it does feel like part of my normal routine now. There are successful ones, and not-as-successful ones, but I don’t beat myself up over the lack of perfection, and I generally feel like my process and my work has improved. It’s been interesting when people do tell about their favorite collages, and it’s one that I consider to be less successful. It’s a pleasant surprise, but I like that different people see different things in what I’m doing.

The Materials

The collages are small, about 4.5″x 6″, and are made on bristol paper. I cut a huge stack of them at the beginning of the project, and have been slowly working my way through them.

For the colored bits, I only use origami paper. I’ve tried using other papers, but keep coming back. I like the thinness and variety of color I can get in origami paper. I’ve never tested whether the paper fades or not, but so far, no collage recipients from times past have reported fading. I really doubt that the paper’s acid-free, though, so I don’t think these will survive in the Shiso Mama Memorial Library and Archives.

Glue - In the very beginning, I used a watered down bookbinder’s glue, which was a high-quality, archival version of Elmer’s, but I didn’t like working with the consistency. I switched to glue sticks for a while, but found that the collages fell apart quite easily. Now, I use this stuff called Yes! Paste:

It’s acid-free. I found it at my local art store, and is a thick, gelatinous paste, and goes on quite easily with a small, flat paintbrush. And Yes! I like it quite a bit.

The Process

The collages have been a sort of visual diary of my life. Often the subject of the collage is something that caught my eye during an outing or walk with Otis. Sometimes, I’ll see something that reminds me of something else, and I’ll let my mind wander and free associate. If I feel totally uninspired, I’ll often give myself time to look through random magazines until a single idea or image catches my attention. Other times, I’ll start with one idea, and it will morph into a totally different image.

I cut everything free hand. I don’t sketch beforehand or measure, and I don’t particularly like straight lines or precision. I basically let the collage take shape as the papers are cut. I usually compose as I cut, moving pieces around to find the most pleasing arrangement.

Sometimes, if there are so many pieces as to make it unwieldy, I’ll start glueing base pieces down before finishing up the composition.

Here it is finished (collage #89):

And then it goes into the sterile, archival storage solution I’ve cleverly devised:

It’s all a very free process from start to finish. Many times the finished product will look very little like what I imagined at the start. But the cutting is so imprecise and variable, and even if you find just the perfect arrangement, it still might change as you glue because you can’t remember the exact placement and angle of every single small piece. And even after everything is all said and done, the scanning process makes them look different as well. Most of the times I think they don’t even look like collages anymore. I love how the whole thing can sort of take on a life of its own.

If you’re interested in seeing the whole set of collage a day collages together, click here.

If you’d like to see some of my other collages, click here.

Feel free to tell me which ones are your favorites.

F’s birthday was rather uneventful, as birthdays seem to be for us nowadays. Besides a trip to Otis’s pediatrician and a platter of cookies at work for everyone whose birthday fell in September, the highlight of the day was his dinner. He got to choose, like he did when he was growing up, and he got his favorite: BLTs with thick cut bacon, juicy tomatoes, and a rustic baguette from our local bakery. And I baked him a supply of brownies to keep in the freezer, which he taps into late at night while he’s working. I fixed ice cream sundaes with brownies, vanilla and mocha java ice creams, almonds, and this fantastically decadent Mexican chocolate sauce that our friend Lynna brought over for us. I literally felt sick after 2 bites and could not eat anymore. But F obligingly gobbled the rest of it up.

With the sleep issues, I haven’t had the time to dream up wonderfully clever and inventive presents for F. He’s received yet another shiso mama version of the “coupon” present (you know, like you give to your mom on Mother’s Day to promise “one breakfast in bed” or “one foot massage” ) - a homemade present. I made him a silhouette cut-out family portrait. I’m pretty pleased with the results, and it was easy, so here’s a tutorial in case you want to try one.

Take pictures of the subject(s) in profile and print it out in the desired size of the finished product.

(Babies may need to be enticed to sit still by repeated viewings of ambulances on YouTube.)

Using tracing paper, trace the outline of the silhouette, catching some of the small details if desired (like stray hairs). Just trace up to a certain point on the neck.

Place the tracing paper on the back of the colored paper. The direction your portrait is facing is the direction of your finished silhouette so if you want it to face the other direction, trace the back first and place THAT side on the back of your colored paper. Retrace the silhouette, so that the pencil lead is transferred to the back of your colored paper.

Cut out your silhouette and glue. Here is F’s original photo, along with his finished silhouette.

And here is the finished product. We just need to find a suitable frame for it, and we’re done! It’s amazing how much it looks like us (and how much Otis looks like a baby even though his head is the same size as ours).

Today is F’s birthday. Happy birthday, husband. Here he is, with his hearing trumpet.

Today, I had to admit something unpleasant to myself.  In the midst of all this separation anxiety and unpleasantness about the sleep and the constant keeping himself awake so that he could check to see if I was still in the room, I realized today that I didn’t just feel frustrated with Otis and the situation, but that I actually felt mad.

I had resolved to be a patient, understanding parent, and to do whatever it took to help him over his issues.  I believe that he needs to know that we are here and will always come when he needs us, and that once he starts feeling secure in this belief again, things will return to normal.  But I find myself forgetting all these things when I’m sitting next to his bed, and he refuses to shut his eyes, no matter how long I’ve soothed him.  I forget because I know that he’s cranky and tired, and just not himself, and I blame him for not letting himself sleep.  I feel angry for his newfound ability to throw himself out of the crib, as he’s shown himself willing and able to do without hesitation, because I have no idea how to address this problem.  I feel angry for my own shattered schedule, and for the loss of my ability to feel relaxed for even a moment, flinching at all sounds and feeling unable to structure my time reliably.  I feel angry because I have worked so hard to get him to sleep well, and it’s all gone to shit.
I don’t feel particularly good about this.  I know this will one day be a faint and distant memory.  I know this is a common phase.  And I know that my anger, even if understandable by generous standards, is not constructive.  So I’ll wait.  And I’ll hope.  And I’ll be grateful for a husband who comes home when I need him.

If you are related to me, don’t talk to me about this.  At all.