I'll Slide on My Own, Thank You!

Spend more than 30 minutes with Mimi and I guarantee that at some point within that half hour you'll make the observation, "That girl is really independent, isn't she?"  This, I'm afraid, is putting it lightly. 

Mimi has always been a bit precocious.  10 minutes out of the womb and nurses were already commenting on how alert Mimi was.  The girl was hyper aware.  Even at 2 months, when we first dropped her off at daycare, she put up a massive struggle.  And she never let it go.  She flat out knew we wouldn't be around and simply would not accept it.  At 8 months or so we tried to wean her from co-sleeping to sleeping in her crib.  This was back in New York when we still shared a bedroom.  No matter how exhausted she (or we) might be, Mimi would refuse to sleep if we were in the room.  She'd scream, cry, whine, bellow, and wail until we brought her back to bed.  Only then would she quiet down.  If we laid her down and stayed in the living room until she feel asleep, she'd still wake up once we came to bed in the middle of the night.  Even in her sleep she knew we were there.  Eventually Sumie and I had to sleep in the living room for a week to get Mimi used to sleeping in her crib on her own.

It's not just at home that Mimi's independence shines through.  Take her anywhere, regardless of crowds, and within a few minutes she'll be running off on her own.  She'll even run directly into the ocean (not the safest thing for a girl 19 months old).  But it's at the park that her independence really shines. 

It starts early, at home.  As I was unloading the groceries the other day Mimi was already at it.  She'd secured her sand toy bag and was chanting, "Go!  Go!" 

Groceries secured, I bundled Mimi into her new red wagon and we headed off for the park.  We sprinted down the hills, which resulted in giggles for Mimi, huffing and puffing for me.  As we entered the park Mimi came over all giddy.  I parked the wagon near the sandpit, thinking Mimi wanted to play with her shovel and bucket.  Wrong.  She immediately sprinted for the swings. 

From the swings we went to slides.  In the past, I'd have to guide Mimi over to the slide and support her on the way down.  Not this time.  She wanted nothing to do with me.  She was going to conquer the slide all on her own.  Without any prompting, she ran over to the bottom platform of the play structure: the toddler entry point. 

She then crawled through the tunnel...

and settled herself at the edge of the slide. 

This is normally when I'd support her back and help her down, safe and sane.  But not this time.  She kicked and flew!

Mimi cracked a huge smile when she hit the bottom of the slide.  She was upside down, but very, very happy.  She immediately dusted herself off and headed back for another go. 

Mimi's independence can be a bit frustrating at times - like when she decides it's time to write all over the leather sofa - but I'm so glad that she has it.  That drive, coupled with her curiousity, will take her far.  I just hope I'll be in good enough shape to keep up.   

Mouth of Sand, Walk of Shame

Toddlers fall over.  It's what they do.  It's their past-time, passion, and preferred method of getting to the floor quickly.  When an adult, running full speed, falls flat on his face, people cringe.  When a toddler does it, they laugh. 

Mimi, like all girls her age, falls over constantly.  90% of the time she picks herself up, dusts herself off, and continues on her way.  But every once in a while, when she gets a little hurt or a little scared, she lets her displeasure known.  And when Mimi's displeased, she makes sure that everyone within a 10 block radius knows it.  She's quite adept at getting her point across, but this, unfortunately, comes with unintended consequences.  Passersby tend to feel sympathy for the screamer, but very little affection for the screamer's keeper. 

As a man walking the streets of San Francisco alone with a baby, I can't help but feel I'm constantly being evaluated.  Yes, men have been emancipated to a certain degree when it comes to child care, but our abilities are still very much, believe me, in question.  When Mimi is in cute mode, kicking back in her stroller and saying "Hi!" to every dog she sees, I'm a champion father.  When she's kicking and screaming, I get looks that seem to say, "Shouldn't you be locked away awaiting your war crimes trial?"  And when Mimi takes a small tumble at the park - me being the only man surrounded by mothers - I may as well be the bastard child of Stalin and Joan Rivers.  

Our trip to the park did not begin well.  We stopped by the coffee shop to say "Hi" to Mama, who had left the house to study in peace.  2 minutes into our visit Mimi decided that she wanted to "borrow" the reading materials from everyone in the shop.  This did not go over well, so I packed her back into the stroller and set out for the park.  As Mimi wailed, I walked out the door, my head held low.  Half-way down the block a woman stopped in her tracks and simply stared at Mimi, slowly pivoting, and then shaking, her head as we ambled past.  Mimi screamed her way to the park, exchanging shouts of anger for squeals of joy once the playground equipment came into view. 

Once there, Mimi played quite well.  She started off with the slides and, of course, a few trips through the yellow tunnel. 

Then it came time for playing in the sand.  I brought out her bucket and shovels and she set to work.  Before long she had been joined by two additional playmates, one three year old and one 15 month old.  After a while she was even beginning to share some of the sand toys.  Not the ones she brought, of course, but at least she wasn't hoarding.

The outing was going well.  I'm still a bit shy when it comes to talking to other parents (I'm a bit of an introvert and not that good at small talk), but this time I was actually having good conversations with several of the parents.  I was feeling comfortable, confident.  Maybe I could be seen as a good parent, despite my gender handicap.  And that's when Mimi decided to take a tumble.

Mimi had climbed out of the sandpit, which has a six inch ledge, and then decided that she wanted to get back in, only this time riding the scooter of one of her playmates.  I managed to stop her the first 6 times, but on her seventh attempt, she succeeded.  Baby and scooter tumbled into the sandpit.

The tumble was minor, she'd been though far worse without complaint, but it must have scared the dickens out of her.  Sand in her mouth and tears in her eyes, Mimi let forth a shriek - one cannot even classify it as a mere shout, scream, or cry - that was picked up on seismological equipment as far as Malaysia. 

The mothers there with me, rather than being judgmental, were actually very helpful and kind.  They even congratulated me for calming her down so quickly (I had to use milk).  But, as I left the park, I couldn't help but feel I'd let all the other stay-at-home dads here in San Francisco, and across the country, down.  That's why, despite the embarrassment, I had to blog about it. 

One of my biggest challenges with being a stay-at-home dad has been a constant anxiety of being judged.  Part of this, I think, comes from me wanting to prove that men can do this parenting thing just as well as women, but I think it also stems from my own insecurity when it comes to doing right by Mimi.  It's not that I want to assuage her every frustration or protect her from every danger - she'll never really learn to be independent that way - I just want to guide her the best I can so that she can continue to walk her own path.  And not scream too much along the way!

Backyard Shenanigans

For ten years I lived without a backyard.  And it wasn't all that bad.  On the West Side of Manhattan we had Riverside Park and on the East, John Jay Park.  Many city dwellers think of their neighborhood parks as extensions of their homes; their "backyards," so to speak. 

But now, in addition to Golden Gate Park, we actually have some space in the back of the house to call our own.  And that's posed a problem.  Our "adopted backyards" had always come fully equipped.  All we had to do was bring a picnic mat and we were set.  Our actual backyard, though clean and tidy, is rather barren.  I hadn't considered it before, but a barren backyard is no more useful than an empty room in the house.  Handy, but not that functional.  I needed some stuff.  But what?

Patio furniture would have to wait.  It's been ten years since I've had a backyard and I'm not ready for that kind of commitment.  Not yet.  I decided to start small with a few surprises for Mimi.  The first, and I had forgotten just how important having one of these around can be, was a new soccer ball.

We play a little game called "get the baby."  Mimi will run to one end of the patio and I'll kick the ball toward her.  If I hit her, I yell out, "Gotcha!"  She's taken to repeating after me.  "GAHSUTHA!"  She's getting pretty good at stopping the ball now.  Maybe she'll be a goalkeeper someday.

The other surprise was a little ride-on fire truck.  This took some figuring out for Mimi, but she was soon scooting along the pavement on her own. 

There's a slight slope to the patio leading from the garage down to the garden railing.  This is Mimi's race track.  I'll prop up the rear of the fire engine on the garage door ledge and then Mimi will shoot herself down the hill with a mighty kick.  The girl enjoys speed.  Hmm, maybe if she keeps this up I'll be able to bring her to her first track day in 12 years or so.  I guess that means I should get to work on a track day racer, right?

Of course, unlike adults, toddlers are amazingly adept at finding things to do even in the absence officially sanctioned leisure equipment.  Mimi will take the steps down from the patio to the garden, with Papa's help, at least 5 or 6 times a day.  First, she scopes out the situation.

Then, she contemplates that first step.  Is it worth it?

Sometimes it still feels a bit overwhelming.   

But, with Papa's help, she always makes her way down successfully.  Again on flat land, Mimi races around the track.  Often with Papa running behind her shouting "GAO!" like some kind of overweight and uncoordinated Japanese tiger.  "Well, at least he seems to be having fun..." she seems to smirk. 

Her races run, Mimi will take to organizing the garden.  This usually consists of picking up dead leaves from the cement path or moving the wood chips from the garden's center to the planter bucket which has no bottom.  Why this is done, I have no idea.  She seems to seek order in things outside the house.  Sad that her organizational impulse for the outdoors is consistently supplanted by a destructive impulse when she comes inside.

Before I know it Mimi will be taking to her first tricycle.  I can't wait to see her pedaling around that back patio.  It'll be cute.  And maybe, just maybe, she'll be distracted enough for me to get some reading in.  One of my personal favorite backyard activities.