Monday, January 30, 2012

The Long Road to French Toast and Milkshakes

There's no doubt about it: my daughter is growing up.  Day by day she takes a few steps forward, and the occasional step back, on her way to full toddlerdom.  But these steps are so small, so subtle, that it can be hard to recognize on any given day just how far Mimi has come.  I decided to take a look at an average day now to see just how far my little girl has come since we left New York and came to San Francisco.

Mimi normally wakes up sometime between 7:30 and 8:30.  The time isn't so different from 8 months ago, but the way she welcomes the morning certainly is.  In the past, Mimi would just cry when she woke up.  She still does that from time to time now, but most mornings Sumie and I will hear giggles coming from her room.  We'll call out Mimi's name and get even more giggles.  As soon as I enter the room, Mimi will present me with her baby doll and kitty, both by name.  The she'll hand me her blanket (Ba!) and lastly lift up her arms and yell out "Mimi!  Mimi!"  One unfortunate change, though, has been the massive amount of milk Mimi can take in before bed and the limitations of even the most robust modern diapers.  This morning I woke to find a very damp, very smelly, but still very happy little girl.  Laundry day came early.

After a quick change, it's usually time for breakfast.  But sometimes Mimi likes to take the morning a bit more slowly, and jumps back into bed - this time, Mama and Papa's. 
Once breakfast time does come, it's no longer a bottle and dry Cheerios.  I try to cook for Mimi whenever I can, and at the very least provide her with fresh fruit each morning.  Strawberries, blueberries, and grapes, in particular, have been favorites.  Usually Mimi will tell me it's time to eat by pointing to her plate or pulling out her high chair. 
The other day I went beyond the usual cereal or scrambled eggs and made french toast. 
Unfortunately, with increased age has come increased pickiness.  The french toast intrigued Mimi not so much as a breakfast item but as a sticky slab that makes excellent "thunking" sounds on kitchen tile.  Argh.
Mimi's newfound independence really shows after breakfast.  She's getting better and better when it comes to playing on her own.  This is great for me because I can finally get the occasional chore done when she's still in sight.  Some of this new independent spirit must come from her Mimi's developing language skills.  Rather than just waiting for things to happen, or screaming until what she wants occurs, Mimi can usually get what she wants with a few key words.  For instance, if her father forgets that she's thirsty in the morning, rather than yelling, she'll just ask for juice. 
If Mimi wants a story, she knows to bring me a book.
When it comes to reading, it's not just Mimi's choice of books that has changed.  Back in New York we were lucky to get through one book without Mimi abandoning ship, but now she'll often bring me two or three and sit through them all.  She's also starting to interact with the stories, calling out character names and pointing out objects.  I'm very proud that Mimi loves books and is still almost completely uninterested in TV (except for Thomas and Top Gear). 

Of course, Mimi likes to play with her toys during the day.  As I mentioned before, she's getting better and better at independent play, but she still likes having a playmate around.  On non-daycare days, that's me.  Mimi can be rather demanding at times, which puts me in the occasional compromising position.  Being a stay-at-home dad definitely has its dangers.
Perhaps the biggest change we've seen in Mimi's daily routine has been her approach to daycare.  As I've shared before, Mimi never really took to daycare in NYC, so it's with tremendous relief that Sumie and I see Mimi loving her daycare now.  On daycare days we tell Mimi, shortly after she wakes up, that she's going to see Maya (one of her daycare providers).  Mimi will then yell out "Mai!" and run for the safety gate blocking the stairs where she'll jump up and down shouting "Go! Go!"  I cannot begin to explain just how relieved Sumie and I are that Mimi's found confidence and comfort away from home. 

When it comes time to pick Mimi up from daycare she's still glad to see me.  I'm happy for that.  But sometimes the full day with friends makes her a bit cranky.  And very stubborn.  Mimi's taken to carrying her own daycare bag.  It's part of her new independent spirit.  Sometimes, though, her bag's a bit much for her to carry.  It takes about 3 or 4 minutes of serious struggle for Mimi to finally relent and hand the bag over to Papa. 
Dinner time has also changed; not so much for Mimi but definitely for me and Sumie.  In NYC we'd eat out or order in two to three nights a week.  Here in SF, we cook at home almost every day.  It's helped with the finances and it's been healthier for Mimi.  Still, we do need to get out every once in a while.  Tired from a long week, Mimi, Sumie, and I hit Mel's Diner over on Geary for burgers and fish and chips.  Not the healthiest dinner, but well deserved.  I even topped the meal off with a milkshake, which was served traditionally with both the glass and tin mixing cup.  I got the glass, Mimi the tin cup. 
She loved it.  And this was no ordinary milkshake Mimi enjoyed.  It was a malt.  I've always been a malt guy, but it's getting harder and harder to find a good one these days.   So, I'm very proud to report that it looks like Mimi is a malt fan.  Learning to enjoy a good malt: yet another sign that Mimi is on the right track...  at least in my mind. 

Thursday, January 26, 2012

Occupy - Oakland Zoo

I really don't know the Bay Area that well yet. 

Several days ago my step father invited Mimi and I for a day out at the Oakland Zoo.  We'd be joining him and Lucey, his youngest son's daughter, for donuts in Castro Valley and then an action-filled visit with Oakland's animals.  I'd never been to the Oakland Zoo, but by the name I was able to put together that it was in Oakland.  And Oakland, at least according to the television, is bad news. 

I had pictured the outing quite clearly.  After fending off several crack dealers and a fortunately sluggish car-jacker, we'd pass the last of the burnt-out buildings/hipster lofts to arrive at the zoo parking lot.  There we'd be turned away by the Occupy Oakland group.  Protesting against arch capitalists and their perverse hunger to see nature behind bars, the movement had taken over the parking lot in the hopes of making it a community outreach center for homeless-left-handed-vegan-methadone addicts who lack access to transportation and fresh vegetables.  "That's why they're not here, man!" I could hear them screaming.  "Just because they don't have a car doesn't mean they shouldn't have parking!"

Thankfully, my expectations were completely groundless.  The zoo was right off the 580 freeway and perched up in the hills above.  Beautiful.  Mimi was excited to get going. 
Before I could even attempt to get her into the stroller, she raced off after her cousin Lucey and Grandpa Randy. 
Her pink pea coat hindered sprinting, so Mimi cast it off without a second thought.  No pea coat also made it easier to hold hands with Grandpa through the exhibits. 
Birds were a favorite for Mimi.  I think it was the colors.  Who am I kidding.  They were just the loudest.  And Mimi, no shrinking violet, respects anything louder than she is.  But Mimi's also competitive, so the birds at the Oakland Zoo learned that while they may be louder, Mimi can shriek at a much, much higher pitch.  Even hyenas were cringing. 
Mimi was intrigued by the striped horses.  Those are zebra, Mimi. 
I'm still trying to figure this one out, but for some reason the zebra inspired Mimi to do an impression of Marilyn Monroe from "The Seven Year Itch." 
Or perhaps she just had to go to the bathroom.  Pop culture or potty?  Still not sure which she was going for.

At the tiger enclosure Mimi grew introspective...
and decided to take a rest with Grandpa and Lucey. 
After a brief recharge Mimi hit the children's zoo.  She made a bee-line for the tortoise shell garden.  The toddler terrapin managed to avoid bumping her head for a full 7 minutes!
The tortoise shell garden fully exploited, and after a little encouragement to try something new from Papa, Mimi communed with the otters...
and even the alligators!
The day ended with a ride on Thomas.  Well, it wasn't the real Thomas, but it was a real train, and that was enough for Mimi! 
Mimi was a perfect passenger.  Except for insisting on eating Japanese pretzel sticks the entire ride.  "No Food on the Train!" said the sign.  "You've obviously never heard me scream," replied Mimi.
At the end of the ride we attempted to take a picture of Lucey, Mimi, and Grandpa.  Getting one toddler to stand still for a picture is a challenge.  Corralling two is an absolute impossibility. 
It was a wonderful day out for Mimi, and for me as well.  We're paying the price tonight - Mimi refused to nap at home thanks to her cat nap in the car - but I'd do it all over again, without doubt.  And the great thing: it'll all be brand new for Mimi next time we go!

Monday, January 23, 2012

Faulty Plumbing

It's been far too long since I've posted.  No, Sumie didn't imprison me for giving Mimi a mullet.  That would've been much more preferable to what actually happened. 

Last Wednesday night, nearly 5 days ago, I met friend for dinner.  We went for Mexican at a local place Sumie and I had visited multiple times before.  The food is tasty, the drinks are strong, and the prices reasonable.  Normally.  This time, though, my meal cost me far more than usual.  Particularly given that I couldn't keep it down. 

When I arrived home around 10:30 that night, I was in the full-blown throes of a serious case of food poisoning.  It continued until 6:00am.  My dear wife slept by my side, waking up every 15 minutes or so to say, "You poor thing."  I was not in a good way. 

Thursday morning found me relatively stabilized but exceedingly groggy and entirely unable to keep anything down.  This made watching Mimi a bit of a challenge.  I couldn't leave the house, but Mimi was in no mood for sympathy.  For a full hour she chanted "Go!  Go!" next to the stairwell.  The girl likes to go outside.  

Despite the occasional calls for freedom, Mimi was a good girl for me that day.  She napped well, and even let me snooze on the couch without tearing the house apart.  I think she knew something was wrong with her Papa that day.  By the time Sumie came home that night I was able to keep down some juice.  An improvement, thanks in part to Mimi. 

Friday found Mimi at daycare and me convalescing.  That afternoon I had my first few bites of food.  It had been at least 36 hours since I'd last eaten.  It seemed like I was on the mend. 

But then Saturday came.  The day started innocently enough, with me serving up blueberry pancakes, bacon (I only had one piece!), and scrambled eggs.  Health seemingly restored, we set out for a quick trip to Baker Beach.  Here's Mimi and Sumie making their way up the long staircase from the ocean below. 
Mimi, that trooper, insisted on walking the whole way.  Mama provided the occasional boost, but for the most part, she scaled that entire stairway herself.  She was beyond proud of herself when she hit the top. 
I've never come across a more independent little girl.  She even insisted on carrying her own sand toys - despite them weighing more than she does!
After the beach, and a nap back at home, we drove over to the Moscone Center to pick up Yoomi, a friend of Sumie's from New York.  They'd been through residency together and it was a rare treat for them to meet up again. 
The four of us decided on a quiet dinner at Ju-Ku, a small Japanese izakaya close to our home.  As usual, the food was excellent, especially the fried chicken.  Mimi was on her best behavior.  For nearly two hours she didn't moan or complain.  She just focused on eating, trying to steal Yoomi's glasses, and figuring out how many used chopsticks she could fit in her water glass.  Unfortunately, this last game came to a rather disastrous end for Mimi's dress and Sumie's pants.  That was our cue to head home.  And so we did.

By the time we entered the house, both Mimi and I knew something wasn't quite right.  All that rich food wasn't sitting well with me and Mimi, well, she hadn't pooped for a few days.  This, combined with a full day, made her a bit grumpy.  We changed her out of her wet clothes and she threw a massive tantrum when confronted with her pjs.  She decided to seek solace in the hall carpet.  Why she had to keep her butt in the air, I've no idea.
Things took a further turn for the worse for Mimi and me Sunday morning.  Mimi, Sumie and I were expected at a friend's house for brunch that morning, but it wasn't looking good.  Mimi's plumbing was still severely backed up and mine, once again, had shut down entirely.  And if that wasn't enough, humans weren't the only ones with plumbing problems that morning.  The storm drain in our garage had backed up overnight - perhaps because of the steady rains - making the garage completely uninhabitable.  Basically, everything had gone to shit. 

Mimi and I took pity on Sumie, who had been on call all last week, and let her go enjoy her brunch in peace while we dealt with our various plumbing problems.  And we made some headway.  Mimi, that brave little girl, was eventually able to poop all on her own - and in her potty at that!  I tackled the garage, eventually getting the water level down low enough so we could get to the trash cans.  I was still feeling queasy, but at least I was keeping down juice.  By 1:00, when we had to pick up Sumie, Mimi and I had enjoyed a rather productive morning - despite our handicaps. 

Today I'm feeling a little better, but I still can't take anything in.  I've resigned myself to juice for the next few days.  I suppose it's best for me.  And it's linked to the one positive that's come from my food poisoning: I've finally lost some weight!

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Accidental Mullet

The day had started off so well...

Mimi woke up smiling at 8:30.  By 11:00, with two loads of laundry already checked off the list, we hit the road on an errand quest of grocery shopping, shoe repairing, and special turkey sandwich getting (Arguello Market makes a roast turkey sandwich that cannot be ignored).  Mimi was napping soundly by 2:00 and I was making significant headway on all those on-line chores I'd been putting off.  By the time Mimi woke at 3:30 I'd proclaimed myself a domestic ninja.  And that's when my pride got the best of me.  I decided to give Mimi a haircut. 

Regular readers of this blog may remember that I had given Mimi her first haircut, which was somewhat successful, several months back.  Thinking back on this I foolishly decided that I'd tempt fate and give it another go.  Now, this decision was not just based on whimsical thinking.  There was some method in my madness.  So, before I share pictures of the carnage that are sure to damn me to hair-dresser hell forever, please give me a moment to justify an admittedly silly decision.

Why I Thought Cutting My Daughter's Hair Might be a Good Idea:
  1. Mimi's bangs had grown quite long and were constantly getting into her eyes, sometimes causing her considerable pain; 
  2. Mimi is going through a shy phase right now.  It takes her at least half an hour to warm up to strangers;
  3. Mimi is also beginning to throw tantrums.  In my mind, the shy and tantrum factors would combine for an utter meltdown at the hair salon;
  4. I'd trimmed Mimi's bangs somewhat successfully before;
  5. Despite my penchant for German cars, antiques, and pinball machines, I'm a cheap bastard at heart.  
So, believing I was in my right mind, I draped a smock over my 20 month old daughter and set to work.  Mimi, who is already smarter than her father, looked apprehensive.
I dug in anyway.  Wetting her hair with No-More-Tangles, I then combed it forward and began the trim.  A few snips in I took a picture of my handiwork.  Mimi seems to be sending me a message: "No more!  No more!"
But, moderation having never been my friend, I continued.  Unfortunately, the more I thought about cutting hair, the more my mind turned to my own experiences - how my own hair is cut.  This is not a good look for a little girl.  Some sinister, beguiling voice spoke up, "Trim that long hair in front of her ears!  You always hate that."  And it's true.  I do hate hair hanging down in front of my ears.  It bends out awkwardly from under my glasses and tends to stick out at a 90 degree angle from the side of my head when I wake each morning.  So, I always have it removed.  Nice and smooth from the bangs to the ear.  This looks fine on me.  Why I thought it would look good on my daughter I have absolutely no idea. 
By the time I recognized what I had done, it was too late.  Mimi had been mulleted.  Short-longed.  Business in the front and party in the backed.  Trailer parked.  Hockey Haired.  NASCAR'd.  Sent on a field trip to the south.  You get the picture.  I decided to give Mimi a bath - she needed one anyway - to see if it would help things.  My hair always looks better following a shower after a new haircut.  No dice.  The mullet would not wash away.  It's too tough a look for that. 

There was no hiding this from Sumie.  When she came home I said nothing.  I just sat on the couch, sort of like a dog who hides in the corner after he's misbehaved.  Sumie, confronted with a daughter who could now audition as an extra for a "Deliverance" remake, was less than pleased.  Let me give you an example.  I searched the house for more than an hour today and I still can't find a pair of scissors.  We used to have three. 

As in the norm in the 21st century, I was punished via a posting on Facebook.  I deserved it, but to be fair, it took Sumie about 20 shots to get a picture that was truly horrific. 
And yes, despite the haircut, Mimi is still cute.  I'm very happy for that and I hope it's a sign of things to come.  I have many more mistakes to make, I'm sure, but I think Mimi will see them through.  I hope she'll remember that I always do my best for her.  Even when she ends up with a mullet. 

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Caked in Curdled Milk - Updated!

Despite it being Sunday, the morning began much like any other, with Sumie's iPhone blaring at us to wake up.  Two snoozes later we finally found the motivation to turn off the alarm completely.  Sumie rolled out of bed and started preparing for a day on call at the hospital.  I turned on the bedside lamp and opened my book, hoping for a little quiet reading before the day officially began.

Mimi, however, had woken up with us.  She normally sleeps through our alarms and morning routines, and if she does wake she almost always hits her own snooze button and cat naps at least until Sumie and I have both showered.  This morning, however, Mimi wasn't putting herself back to sleep.  Her whining persisted and so Sumie snuck out of the bedroom to snatch Mimi and bring her back to our bed.  And that's when I heard the following.

Sumie:
"Good morning, Mimiko!"  (Sweetly)
"Mimi.  What's this?"  (Playfully)
"Ohhhhhh.  Oh no."  (Quietly.  Discoveringly.)
"Oh my God."  (Softly.  Beginning to get a sense of the situation.)
"Oh my God."  (Louder.  Understanding sinking in.)
"Ohhhh  my Gahhhhhhd!"  (Louder still.  Abject disbelief.)

Me, from the bedroom:  "What happened?  Did she poop?"

Sumie:  "No.  She threw up.  Everywhere."

Mimi has been a remarkably healthy baby.  She's only had a few colds in her short life and very, very rarely brings back up what she takes in.  It had been at least a year since she'd last spat up in her sleep.  When we found her this morning she seemed OK - no fever and just a little crankiness - but something had definitely disagreed with her tummy. 

Sumie extracted Mimi from her room and started drawing a bath.

"Can you take care of the sheets?"  she asked me.

"On my way."  I strolled sleepily through the hall and entered Mimi's room.  

Now, as a parent, I've dealt with my share of stinky and disgusting substances, but nothing prepared me for what was awaing in Mimi's room.  As I crossed threshold the smell grabbed hold of me.  It assaulted me.  Walking into Mimi's room was like walking into a putrid abandoned dairy.  In August.  Not the most pleasant experience, particularly early on a Sunday morning.  And then there was the bedding.  The sheet, Mimi's PJs, and her blanket were all caked in curdled dairy.  It was like she fell asleep eating cottage cheese and then woke up three weeks later.

But the damage done to the sheets and blanket was nothing compared to what Mimi had inflicted on poor Nyan-nyan, her little orange stuffed kitty and best friend.  I can picture what must have happened quite clearly.  Mimi, feeling ill and insecure due to her upset tummy, had probably cuddled Nyan-nyan tight for a little reassurance.  And that's when her belly's wrath was unleashed.  I have to give that little kitty his due.  He took the full brunt of that onslaught and was still there for Mimi, though a little worse for wear, when we found the mess this morning.  After a quick spin in washer he was feeling a bit better.
By mid-morning Mimi was feeling better as well.  She was still a little weak, a little queasy, but she was keeping down water, was fever free, and was playing happily with her house.
I'm not really sure what caused Mimi's upset stomach - perhaps it was a few too many crackers and a bit too much steak with our friends last night - but the girl does seem to be on the mend.  And having her a bit under the weather this morning hasn't been a burden.  In fact, it's meant more cuddling for me.  I guess, despite the ominous start, the day's turning out rather well after all.

Update! 

Mimi is not 100% yet, but doing much better.  She was quiet most of Sunday, but had regained some of her appetite, and playfulness, by dinner time.  This was good news, because we were having dinner with our friends Hanayo and Juan at their apartment in Nob Hill.
Unfortunately, particularly for Hanayo and Juan's nice white rug, Mimi hadn't quite fully recovered.  Toward the end of dinner, our lively conversation was gently interrupted by a soft little "hwarf," followed by a chunky stream of egg, miso soup, milk, and rice.  A few sniffles and wet rags later, Mimi was feeling chipper again.  She even insisted on more miso soup, which this time she was able to keep down. 
Mimi went right to bed last night, slept well, and woke vomit-free.  Hooray!  But this morning wasn't all smiles and sunshine.  Mimi, perhaps still feeling a bit under the weather, couldn't decide if she wanted to stay in her crib and sleep or come out and play.  Here's the solution she came up with. 
Not the one I'd employ, but it seemed to work for her.  15 minutes later she was up and about.  It's good to see her feeling better. 

Thursday, January 12, 2012

Toddler Awakenings: Rhythm Eating

Each morning Mimi and I sit down at the kitchen table for breakfast.  This is not as simple as it might seem. 

Mimi, like many toddlers, has become a picky eater.  But not in the traditional way.  Most kids, at least so I've heard, like a few types of food and that's all they'll eat.  The foods may go through cycles - carrot sticks one week, chicken fingers another, noodles one month, only rice the next - but at least they tend to stick with a specific food for a while.  Mimi, as any regular reader of this blog could guess, does not fit the mold.  Presented with three or four different foods at any given meal, she'll nibble from each and sometimes devour one of them.  But what she downs at one meal she'll completely refuse at the next.  Mimi's favorite foods only last one meal long. 

Such quickly passing preferences make it hard for Mimi to get as many calories as she needs, so in the past few weeks I've had to get a bit tricky.  Mimi tends to prefer very fresh food.  She'll eat leftovers occasionally, particularly if we had fried noodles, but most of the time she'll turn her nose up at anything that's been reheated.  This is particularly true with scrambled eggs.  Freshly made with a little cheese and butter, they don't last long in front of Mimi.  If I reheat them, though, those same eggs will be flung to the ceiling.  So, each morning I try to prepare something fresh for Mimi.  With her waking up hungry, it's the best time to calorie load.  She seems to approve!
But fresh food isn't enough.  No matter how tasty, Mimi can only concentrate on her food for so long.  So, to keep the chomping going, I've adopted a little strategy I first saw in the movie "Awakenings."  As Doctor Sacks is discovering new ways to "reach" some of his paralytic patients, an orderly shows him that a few of the patients are able to eat on their own with the right kind of music.  I thought the same strategy might work for Mimi.  So far, They Might Be Giants, Johnathan Coulton, and Puffy AmiYumi have worked best, though almost anything upbeat will usually do the trick.  Below, I've just asked Mimi, "Who'd like a little music with breakfast?"  I guess she does. 
Of course, I do make the occasional dietary slip-up with Mimi.  Here's one that happened last night.  Why did I think leaving a fully wrapped, seemingly impervious Swiss chocolate bar on the coffee table would be a good idea?
Despite the occasional slip-up, I'm no pushover when it comes to sweets.  After putting the chocolate bar under lock and key, it was time to get Mimi ready for bed.  Changed, bottled, and brushed, she was ready to go.  As we walked through the kitchen, Mimi remembered where I'd stashed the chocolate.  She definitely has a sweet tooth.
It took a little prying, and a little crying, but I eventually got her away from the cupboard and off to bed.  I know she needs the calories, but even I can't justify giant chocolate bars for toddlers after ten. 

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Dolores Park: Hipsters and Homeless in the Hills of SF

There are few things better than a great city park on a Sunday afternoon.  They are, in contrast to the grinding hustle of the city, oases for the body and mind.  Places where you can sit only five feet from your closest neighbor but still be a world away.  Sumie and I love them.  

In NYC, we made the most of our parks.  It was a rare weekend that we didn't hit Riverside, Carl Shurz, or Central park in spring and summer.  So, when San Francisco presented us with a 65+ degree Sunday in January, we figured we'd make the most of it.

We considered taking the short walk over to Golden Gate Park, our current back yard, but then held off.  The park is genuinely breathtaking in both acreage and beauty, but the massive scope of the park tends to make it a bit impersonal.  We wanted a place where we'd be rubbing shoulders and sharing sod with our urban neighbors.  A place where people watching outweighs peace and quiet.  And so we hit Dolores Park. 

Dolores Park, nestled between the Mission and Castro neighborhoods, is famous for its city views, sloping lawns, and permissiveness.  As we circled the park looking for a parking spot (we eventually found one atop what must be the third steepest hill in San Francisco) we noticed a light haze hanging over the lawns.  "Must be moisture evaporating off the grass," we thought.  It wasn't until we settled down on our picnic mat that we realized we were only kind off right.  Grass was causing the haze, only not the type we were sitting on. 

We found a relatively quiet spot overlooking the city and the children's playground (under construction, unfortunately) and got down to the business of relaxing.  Mimi followed suit.  For about 7 minutes.  Just as the sun was really beginning to soak in, Mimi decided it was time for soccer. 
Her ball control has really improved over the past several months.  We've turned to working on throw-ins as well.  These are Mimi's favorite.  I think she deliberately kicks to ball out of bounds just to throw it back in again.
Tiring of soccer, Mimi joined us back on the mat and people watched.  Well, Sumie and I people watched while Mimi dog watched.  I haven't seen that many dogs here in San Francisco - nothing like the Upper East Side - but I got my fill at Dolores park.  There were at least 20 dogs of different breeds, from dachshund to doberman, circling our small plot of lawn.  And they were all off leash.  This led to one ecstatic little girl.  It also led to a few anxious owners who'd lost track of their pooches - they were the ones walking alone with a leash in one hand, a doggie treat in the other, and a squinty look of "Where's that damn dog?" on their faces - and one man who, having lost his dog, had inadvertently gotten lost himself. 

The mix of people in the park was considerable.  The lawns were dotted with families, couples (of all iterations), bleary-eyed students, unshaven hipsters, the ever-shuffling homeless, singles with books, singles with drugs, and the occasional wide-eyed tourist.  Everyone was out enjoying the sun and fresh air - though I think half were doing so to escape the house and the other half to nurse a hangover.  Speaking of nursing hangovers, about halfway into our stay a man came walking down the hill yelling out, "Cold beer!"  This was fantastic.  I didn't partake, but I loved the man's approach.  Other substances were being sold at the park "under the table," so to speak, but here was a man who had cold beer and just wanted to know if you happened to want one.  It reminded me of being at a ball game.  Unfortunately, a burrito guy never came by. 

After about 2 hours of lazing about, it was time for Mimi's nap and for us to head home.  As we walked up the slope toward our car we snatched a final snapshot of the Dolores Park's awesome views. 
This is definitely a great city park.  One of San Francisco's best oases and one we'll be coming back to soak in soon. 

Monday, January 9, 2012

Why Must Everything be a Hat?

Neither Sumie nor I are hat people.  For Sumie, it's not so much a matter of how she looks in a hat, but finding one that fits.  I call it "Giada de Laurentis Syndrome."  When we do occasionally find a hat for Sumie, it looks just fine on her.  With me, it's a different story.  I've never looked good in a hat.     

There is no way around it.  I've tried cowboy hats, beanies, fedoras, driving caps, baseball caps, you name it.  None of them work.  Baseball caps are particularly nasty.  At best I'm lucky to pass as Michael Moore after a failed diet and a shave.  Most, though, make me look like Corky from "Life Goes On."  So, I it's only natural that I'm a little concerned by Mimi's new obsession with putting things on her head.

Oddly enough, Mimi tends to dislike real hats.  She'll rip off a winter cap in under ten seconds, even if it results in suffocation.  She does, however, enjoy placing anything concave that is not a hat on top of her head.  Colanders, boxes, bowls, tissue paper, zip-lock bags (scarily, when she manages to fish one out of the recycling), and even the occasional toy refrigerator.

Here's a selection of Mimi's fashion-forward headgear.  First, we start off with the Tinkerbell pencil case Mimi received from her Great Grandmother.
The pencil case fit well.  She looked like she'd just gotten off her shift from In-N-Out.  The next selection wasn't so successful.  As a bag for blocks, it's fantastic.  As a hat, not so much. 
While boxes don't fit as snugly as cases, they do tend to stay on better.  At least until they slide the other way and completely blind you. 
The only real hat Mimi will wear, or course, doesn't look like a hat at all.  It's a sock monkey puppet hat and will be perfect with the cold weather approaching.  Unfortunately, because it's actually a hat, Mimi insists that she go shirtless while wearing it.  I'm still trying to break down the logic of this one. 
Thankfully, Mimi is beginning to learn that not everything need be a hat.  The other day I found her a used Red Flyer tricycle.  She still needs to grow into it, and I need to fix the front wheel (which is no longer connected to the pedals), but for $8.00, it was a great deal.  And Mimi knows not to put it on her head!
Later that night, to celebrate her trike riding I suppose, Mimi decided to create something new for the dinner table.  Using yogurt, pasta, juice, cheese, and backwash, Mimi created what Sumie and I dubbed "The Most Disgusting Cup in the World."  Even its own creator found it thoroughly revolting. 
Despite the occasional bad hat choice or cup filthying, Mimi seems to be developing a much better sense of the world around her.  She's recognizing numbers, playing better with others, enjoying daycare, and insisting on going out to play as soon as her father dresses her each morning (it doesn't always happen).  Being a part of that development has been, quite simply, amazing.  I feel very lucky these days.  I hope Mimi does, too.