shiso mama

We’ve been struggling for some time with potty training, but somehow, magically, it just suddenly started working. (Dr. Pugawug, you there? We’ve been using your M&M trick!) He’s been so proud of himself lately, wanting to tell everyone when he pees, and looks so happy when I tell him, “You’re so good at pee-ing!” Today, we used the restroom together while we were shopping, and as I was peeing, Otis gave me a huge smile and told me, “Mama, you’re so good at pee-ing!”

Either I’m a genius or I’m raising one.

We have this family friend, Grandma R, who babysits Otis at least once a week. She loves kids but never had any of her own, and she’s saved my life million times. She drives over to pick up Otis whenever I ask (on one of the worst freeways in the most awful traffic), always volunteers to drive him home (I rarely let her) loves him and cares for him like a family member, and never, even will entertain the first mention of money. I feel quite embarassed, really, to have such great luck and I always feel like I’m taking advantage of her.

She was sad that we were gone for so long. The night before their reunion, I talked to Otis about going to Grandma Rosa’s:

“Now tomorrow, you’re going to Grandma R’s house and….” I started.
“Dumbo!” he exclaimed. (She lets him watch TV at their house.)
“Yes, that’s true. But don’t talk about Dumbo as soon as Grandma R comes through the door.  What I’d like is for you to…”
“Lion King!” he countered.
“Yes, she has Lion King at her house too, but don’t talk about that either.” I am met with confused silence. “When you see her, say, ‘Grandma R, I missed you! Here, say it! I-I-I-I miiiiiiiiisssssssssed you.  Now, can you say…”
“Dumbo!”

And on and on it went, and so it continued the next morning while we waited for her to show up. When she finally showed up at our door, Otis sprinted for the door, so happy to see her, but really unable to communicate his feelings. “Dumbo!!!!!!!”

Her face fell for a moment, but she quickly recovered. While she was washing her hands, I nudged him over and whispered in his ear, and he piped up, “I missed you!” She nearly died from happiness.

When I spoke to her earlier, embarassed at my last minute plea for babysitting, she very excitedly explained the depth of his attachment to her. She needed to go upstairs and asked him to stay downstairs to wait for her, and after she went up six stairs, she asked, “Otis? Are you there?” He replied, “Grandma Rosa? I miss you!”

“I had barely walked SIX stairs and he missed me. That’s how much he loves me!  Can you believe it?” she boasted. Looks like the free babysitting gravy train is going to keep on tooting for us. Is the kid well trained or what?

Today was the first day Otis took a real nap since our home coming. Relief.
Our studio is 98% finished. Hooray.

Hello, fog and cold mornings.
Hello, socks and the occasional sweater.
Hello, strangers looking just so darned American, with your culturally identifiable bodies, hair and clothes.

We are slowly getting over our jetlag and becoming re-acclimated to the routine of our quiet lives. Otis has been happily reacquainting himself with all his toys, and continuing to jibber on in Chinese all day long. His language skills grew impressively during our Asian sojourn, and Chinese has become totally natural to him. So natural that he seems to speak English with a Chinese accent. In fact, coming back here has affirmed what I have been suspecting for some time now: Otis has forgotten most of his English. Weird, isn’t it?

The vastly improved Chinese is fantastic, really just what we had been hoping for, but…… of course there’s a BUT! BUT I think Otis is feeling a little stunned. He’s grown suddenly shy around strangers who approach him speaking English. And more importantly, he’s been having trouble communicating with F. The morning of their reunion, he was so happy to see F, jumping on him, giggling and jabbering on and on. But he started to pause more as he realized that his father couldn’t understand what he was saying. And he had to pause to listen to this strange language that his father was speaking to him. A few days later, he seems to understand most of what F is saying to him, but he just can’t respond yet. I know he’ll regain his English (and yipes, lose his Chinese) faster than we think, but it’s been a frustrating reunion for both father and son.

Otis has been suffering from his usual post-homecoming sleep issues, and we’ve been working on getting him back to his reliable old sleep habits. Actually, F’s been doing much of the heavy lifting in this department, since my stiffly frozen heart seems to have defrosted somewhat since the initial hardcore sleep training we did oh so long ago. And although not understanding Chinese may make it somewhat easier for F to ignore Otis’s endless requests in order to put off sleeptime, it’s also been extremely frustrating for him to realize that he could have reduced much of the crying by merely understanding Otis’s demand for his stuffed tiger.

Soon soon soon, I know.

I know I owe many of you emails and phone calls (those of you that make your presence known, that is. I keep discovering the identity of more and more of secret readers out there. You know, you can’t hide forever!) and of course, I owe ALL of you collages. I know! What are you, monsters? My child has LOST the ability to speak the English language and all you can think about is paper, glue and scissors?

Well, actually, all I can think about is the very exciting fact that this week and next, we are installing our exciting little prefab studio in the backyard! I came home to see a backyard totally cleared of weedy jungle and debris, ready for landscaping. I’ve been dreaming about this forever, and ALL I can think about is patios, garden design, outdoor furniture and how to decorate my studio. Check out this craziness that I’m going to buy next time I find a $4120 bill on the street. Now imagine it tucked under the gracefully drooping branches of mature fruit trees. OK, now imagine me napping in there.  Perfect, no? I’ll keep you updated, of course.

Hong Kong:

catching up and laughing with an old friend… shopping during rainy season… afternoon tea at the Peninsula… a bittersweet get-together with another friend over dim sum at the China Club.

Shanghai:

stopping every few feet for visits with local guardians…

feeding the koi at the jade buddha temple…

marvelling at the beautiful teas and teapots at this lovely store…

exploring the legendary gardens of suzhou…

climbing down the 108 stairs at hanshan temple (although insisting on being carried UP every single stair of the much steeper side)…

desperately searching for a cure for ham-my mug-osis…

Just two more days here and we head back home.  I’ve been feeling pretty homesick and am looking forward to seeing my husband, my friends, my neighbors and my house.  And curiously enough, I miss my old friend Trader Joe.  Isn’t that weird?

*****

One side note - living in Berkeley, we are so used to seeing families of all different configurations, particularly mixed race families like ours (”our demographic!” as our neighbor likes to joke while giving us the raised fist salute). Having been in Asia for so long, whenever I see a Western face, I pause for a moment, almost waiting for some sort of flicker of recognition, a little, Hey, you’re American! And your baby, he’s half white! But that moment never comes because we generally blend in pretty well here in Taiwan, especially since my parents live in an area with a large expat community.

So it was a bit of a shock to be in Shanghai. Otis was quite the attraction there. While walking around, folks stopped dead in their tracks to stare at Otis and talk about him. People walked out of their way, colliding with each other, to get a good look. Baby-loving tweens ran up to him and cupped his face in their hands. Waitresses begged to hold him, and salesladies ran to offer him gifts.

I haven’t experienced anything like it before. When F and I were in Vietnam on our honeymoon, we were stared at quite a bit, but in a more aggressive, antagonistic manner. People see very few hapa kids in China, so they were very curious about Otis. His long hair and somewhat “pretty” features made it so that people couldn’t tell if he was a boy or girl, and the Chinese words coming out of his mouth amused them to no end.

It was strange to be so strikingly cast as an outsider and a curiosity, especially in a place where I thought we would blend right in - I mean, it’s the Motherland, people! I personally would want to shrivel up and die under such scrutiny, but Otis revelled in it. He’s an attention hog, that one. If I was more of a stage mom, I’d pack my bags right now and move us right out to China to make Otis a superstar.