Papa! Hey, I Can Say Papa Again!

It's been a quiet weekend so far.  We'd had grander plans for today, plans that better fit the glorious sunshine, but after awaking with a massive sinus headache this morning, I decided to nap as Sumie and Mimi played the morning away in the park.  I was feeling better, though not 100% (still not there), by the time they got back. 

I'd wanted to go out to play, but, in hindsight, I'm glad that I didn't.  Mimi sprung a little surprise on me when she returned and I don't think it would've happened had she not spent some substantial time away from her father. 

I was still in bed when Mimi and Sumie returned.  As they clambered up the stairs I set my book aside and started calling out "Mimiko!  Mimiko!"  I heard a squeal, followed by the violent patter of a little girl who can't yet bend her knees while running.  She burst into the bedroom and pointed right at me. 

Out of bed I stood before my two-foot tall inquisitor with her scowl of severe concentration.  What was going on in that little head?  Was she mad at me?  What had I done?  And what's with the pointing?  "Infidel!" she seemed to cry.  But then, finally, something clicked, and out came the two syllables she'd be struggling over for so long.  "Papa!" 

She'd remembered.  And damn if she wasn't proud of it.  Back and forth from Mama to Papa she ran, calling out "Mama" as she hugged Sumie and then "Papa" as she sprinted towards me.  This went on for almost ten minutes.  She couldn't get over her accomplishment.  To be fair, she's still not 100% accurate.  Mimi managed to call me "Mama," "bapo" (diaper), and "bapee" (potty) in her excitement - she's still coming to terms with the term - but overall, I think she's got it.  It's amazing how the connections are forming in her brain.  I knew the word "Papa" was in there somewhere.  It just took the right circumstances to bring it back to the forefront and, hopefully, lock it in for good. 

The rest of the afternoon was lazy, but good.  We had a little lunch, which suited Mimi just fine.

Nice and full, she turned to scribbling at her table and then some quality time with her friends C3PO, Storm Trooper, and Yoda. 

Mimi, learning how to share more and more each day, made sure Mama got to have fun with the Star Wars gang as well.

Ah, in another year or two it'll be time to bring out the original Star Wars stuff for Mimi.  If her language development continues, I think she'll at least be able to say "Thank you, Papa!" when the time comes.  At the very least I hope she won't call me "diaper."  

Birthday Girl on Call

Yesterday was Sumie's 28th birthday.  Amazing.  I still don't quite know how she got through college, medical school, residency, and fellowship so quickly, but she assures me the age is correct.  And she looks it, too.  I suppose those supposedly "missing" years somehow transferred to me as I'm constantly being told (perhaps by my wife?) that I look good for someone in his late forties (ouch).

Unfortunately, Sumie was on call for her birthday weekend (she'll be on call through Thanksgiving, actually).  We wanted to have some family over for a party, but we'd have to host it at our house so that Sumie could be close to the hospital should she be called in.  This meant some heavy cleaning and prep for me and Mimi, but we were definitely up to the job.

We started our shopping with a few cakes from Schubert's bakery on Clement.  They're amazing.  I got two - one strawberry mousse and one chocolate mousse - as the members of our family have a tendency to refuse cake at first only later to down two or three pieces.  From the bakery we swung by the Salvation Army Home Store to see if they had anything worthwhile.  They did, and Mimi was ecstatic!

I think the box of Lego weighed as much as Mimi, but that didn't stop her from hoarding it.  The girl really loves those little plastic blocks. 

After picking up supplies from Safeway it was time to cook and clean.  Sumie's sister and her family would be arriving around 5 and they'd be bringing Sumie's mother, who had just come out from New York and would be staying with us for a few days.  Mimi was a tremendous help by sitting on the couch and, for the very first time, not screaming as I vacuumed the living room.

Before I knew it, Kae and her family had arrived and it was time to pick up Sumie.  She'd gone in extra early that morning (around 7:00am) and now, at 6:00, she was finally ready to come home.  I drove over to the hospital where Sumie practically leaped into the car.  She likes birthday parties, particularly her own.

There was a ton of food, as usual: Kara-age (Japanese Fried Chicken), Harumaki (spring rolls), Inari (slightly sweet rice in tofu packets), and much, much more.

After loading up our plates in the kitchen, we then sat ourselves around the coffee table which, for all intents and purposes, has turned into our formal dining space. 

Everyone started to eat.  Everyone except for Mimi.  She seemed to have other plans. 

Now I understand why she was so excited to get that box of Lego earlier.  She wanted a new hat.

After dinner and cake it was time to open presents.  Mimi loved the ribbons.

All told, I think Sumie had a fun birthday, even though she'd been on call.  All the hard work and excitement took their toll, though.  By 11:00pm Sumie had passed out on the couch.  I tried to get her to go to bed, but she refused, saying she wanted to enjoy all of her birthday.  That's my wife.  She loves her birthdays.  Even when she's sleeping through them!

Portly Man Defies Laws of Physics in BMW Wagon

"You're going to Oakland, right?"

These are the very words spoken to me by my sister's husband, Sean, as I was driving us down I-280 toward the airport.  Sean, Julie, and their son Alder, 1 month Mimi's junior, had come out for a quick visit on Friday.  We'd had a wonderful time - barbecue for dinner on Friday, museums and a "They Might Be Giants" show on Saturday, wrapping up with a visit to Sacramento to see family on Sunday - but were all a bit groggy from a late night following a very packed weekend.  Perhaps this is why none of us realized until we were halfway to SFO that the flight was departing from Oakland.  Ah, the joys of multiple metropolitan airports. 

At first I thought Sean was joking.  And I didn't think it that funny given that we were already running a bit late.  Julie, who had somehow wedged herself into the back seat along with the two babies and their massive car seats, piped up at this point.  "You're joking, right Steve?  You know we're going to Oakland.  That's where we flew in." 

My mother had, kindly, picked Julie and Sean up on Friday - from Oakland.  I had remained at home in blissful ignorance of their entry point to California.  Unfortunately, none of us had thought to confirm what the exit point would be.  By the time we collectively realized our error, we'd been traveling for at least 20 minutes in entirely the wrong direction. 

A few cries of anguish later, I'd turned around and Sean had remapped the route.  It was 10:35am.  The flight, which appeared to be on time, was scheduled to leave at noon.  It was the only flight that day.  In fact, it was the only flight until Friday.  "Allegiant Air" - inexpensive, as long as you make your flight!  The newly mapped route proclaimed more bad news.  It projected 42 minutes from where we were to the airport.  This put us at the terminal 2 minutes after the check-in cutoff. 

The situation looked bleak.  Sean was researching flights on other airlines, Julie was trying to find a sub for her Tuesday classes, and Mimi and Alder both decided that it was time to wail for no apparent reason.  I, however, was mildly optimistic.  I'd been training for such a challenge since I was 16 years old.  And I had the perfect tool: an older, inconspicuous, unassuming, and very quick BMW Wagon. 

I pride myself on being able to drive quickly, but safely, under the radar.  Run silent, run deep.  Decades of burning down long stretches of the California highways, New York thruways, and the New Jersey Turnpike have taught me how to drive inconspicuously at speed.  And with 9 years in the vehicular crucible that is Manhattan, I learned how to read the traffic to find the fastest lanes.  I am by no means an excellent driver, or even a great driver.  But I think I'm competent.  Competent enough to have always gotten my charges to the airport in time for their flights.  And I wasn't about to fail now. 

By the time we hit the Bay Bridge, the tension in the car had dropped.  When downtown Oakland faded into the distance, the babies were babbling contentedly.  And when we finally pulled up to the terminal at Oakland Airport, we knew we'd succeeded.  It was 11:00, on the dot.  The 42 minute projection had been cut to 25.  We're still not sure how it happened - some law of space and time must have been violated, I'm positive.  Still, thanks to that little wagon from Bavaria, we were able to close out a fantastic weekend in style - and with just the right amount of drama.

There'll be more on the visit in the days to come - so many pictures and video to go through - but in the meantime, here a few highlights:

Mimi and Alder loved playing together, particularly at Great Grandma's house.  They even learned how to play, "Sit still, we're taking a family picture!"

Of course, they weren't always perfect.  Mimi decided that Great Grandma's antique tea trolley would make an excellent fort. 

There were many amazing moments on the trip - the concert, finding a chicken and waffles restaurant, etc. - but the sky on the way home from Sacramento was perhaps the most breathtaking. 

The pinnacle of the weekend, at least for me, was watching Mimi and Alder become fast friends and playmates.  Playmates who can even share.  Here they are on opposite sides of Mimi's playhouse. The two kids just seemed to click.  It was pretty cool to see. 

 

Games of Horseshoes and Vegetable Mutilation

An admission.  I just ran away from my daughter.

Mimi had decided to help me gather the photos for today's post by wiggling between my arms and then pounding the track pad repeatedly with both fists and screaming "Mimi!  Mimi!".  So, I ran away to the other side of the living room.  It seems to be working.  I'm here in my chair, blocked from Mimi's view by a bookcase.  I guess "out of sight, out of mind" works with children under 2.

Mimi, despite her computer abuse, is slowly learning how to play constructively, both by herself and with others. 

Naturally, her play often reflects the activities of her mother and father.  Cooking is a major one.  We generally try to cook dinner at home at least 4 or 5 times a week.  Sumie and I can both cook well on our own, but we work best when we combine forces.  Sumie is a skilled, and speedy, prep chef.  She'll prepare all the ingredients and then hand the job over to me for the actual cooking.  Mimi, who constantly looks up to her mother, loves to take part in the prep work. 

This, unfortunately, makes for a rather messy kitchen.  There's nothing like picking up 15,746 microscopic pieces of mutilated lettuce before sitting down to dinner. 

I prefer Mimi copying us on the phone.  Almost any object will do: a Wii remote, a block, a fork.  Today it's a digital thermometer. 

Mimi also loves to mimic us when we read.  If I'm in my chair with a book or a computer it's only a few minutes before Mimi pulls out a book of her own.  Unfortunately, Mimi's unquenchable thirst for destruction extends to the hobby of reading as well.  Here she is with a dismembered sheep's head.  Old McDonald will think again before inviting Mimi to his farm for a song. 

But life with Mimi isn't just about messiness and violence.  More and more she's learning how to play constructively and creatively.  I noticed this during a game of horseshoes yesterday. 

Mimi carefully observed her father make a few futile tosses.  My aim was, as always, terrible, but Mimi seemed to get the idea, despite my inaccuracy.  Once she got the gist of the game, we started taking turns.  Here's Mimi cleaning up after my first attempt. 

Now, here's Mimi showing me just how it's done. 

Granted, I suppose you can't really call what she was doing "throwing."  More like "judicious placement of plastic horseshoes around a plastic peg to remind Papa just how blazingly uncoordinated he is." 

Mimi seemed quite pleased with the results. 

I'm looking forward to sharing more games with Mimi.  I wonder when that first round of hide-and-seek will take place, or our first game of catch or passing the soccer ball back and forth.  She's getting close, I think.  Still a ways to go, but I can see the wheels turning. 

Lego. Creative Destruction.

Lego.  Is there a better toy? 

I was obsessed with it as a kid: from those initial Duplo bricks - great for making towers and race cars to throw across the room - to the "Technic" sets with their gears and motors.  On any given day, from age 2 to 12, there was a good chance you'd find me lying on the bedroom or living room floor building away.

As with any exceptional toy, Lego both challenges the mind and harms the body.  For every child who has learned to follow picture directions by playing with Lego, there is another who took a trip to the ER with a "blocked" stomach.  For every budding engineer or architect who got her first taste of independent design when the directions were inevitably been lost, there is another child who was rushed to the dentist after trying to separate two stubborn pieces with his teeth.  And for every youngster who spent an afternoon with his Lego spread across the living room floor, there are 2,647 instances of pained cursing after having stepped on a misplaced block.  This last aspect is, perhaps, the only real downside to Lego.  Children who play with it often, especially in shared spaces, are exposed to an almost unimaginable degree of muttered swearing. 

Over the weekend we bought Mimi her first set of Duplo, and she loves it.  Unfortunately, so do I.  Even with these larger blocks, I can feel the builder in me coming out.  While Mimi's happy to stick the odd block onto another, pretend one is a teacup, or make "vroom, vroom" noises pushing around a shabbily built Duplo car, I get a bit more into it. 

Mimi enjoys playing with the projects I build for her, though she's a bit impatient when it comes to the build itself.  She doesn't quite have the concept of something being "done" yet.  This makes sense as her approach to play consists almost entirely of destroying whatever she is given. 
The plane below was my fourth attempt at the type.  With each one I tried to make it both more realistic and more resistant to toddler tampering.  A vain pursuit, I knew, but a fun challenge nonetheless. 

Finishing the build to the sound of impatient cries, I delivered the plane to Mimi for inspection.  She was sitting, rather imperiously, in her toy box. 

It seemed that the plane had passed muster.  Mimi was intrigued and the plane seemed to be holding together.  This idyllic play state lasted a full twelve seconds. 

By the time I had sat back down on the couch, the tail was at the bottom of the toy box, the wings strewn across the floor, and the cockpit tossed all the way into the kitchen.  So much for my attempt at toddler-proof design. 

Honestly, I don't mind this destruction.  I'm happy for it, actually.  It just means I get to build more.  Hmm, I wonder by what age kids enjoy watching their father build 1/10 scale radio controlled 4x4s?  3 years old sounds about right to me...