How to Seriously Disrupt a Dinner Party - Toddler Guide

First off, I know full well it's been more than a week since I last wrote.  The thing is, I don't even remember it.  It's enough for me to frame a coherent picture of the last two days let alone the entire week.  Friday night (from what I remember), Sumie and I were both exhausted.  But it was a good exhaustion.  We're making a real go of this two-job lifestyle, still finding plenty of time to spend time with Mimi and with each other (though a little sleep is lost, if I'm honest, in the process). 

When this weekend came round we were ready for a break, but we had a busy weekend planned.  So busy, in fact, that I'm having trouble remembering it as well.  Bear with me, but I'm going to do this post backwards.  I'll work through Sunday and give my mind some time to recount Saturday's adventures.  Here we go. 

We had three goals to accomplish this Sunday: 1. Get new tires for the BMW; 2. Borrow camping gear from the parents for Steve's camping weekend with the guys; 3. Get a "big girl bed" for Mimi.  While we struck out on the tires this time around (I'm not satisfied with the options just yet), we did get to visit with Grandma and Grandpa to pick up the camping equipment, and we secured Mimi a new bed.  Two out of three is perfectly acceptable. 

It had been a balmy 72 degrees, at most, in San Francisco when we headed out to the east bay this morning.  By the time we reached Grandma and Grandpa's, it was at least 157 degrees Celsius.  Yes, I know I used to live in New York and I know it was far hotter and more humid there, but I've acclimated.  Anything over 90 degrees is just obscene these days.  Mimi thinks so, too, so she insisted on jumping into the sprinkler. 

She'd run as fast as she could and then step on it.  

This was endlessly entertaining for Mimi.  

 It's strange.  She'll scream in the shower if she even thinks water is coming within a foot of her face, but give her a garden sprinkler and she'll soak herself from head to toe.  Gleefully. 

All that playing in the sprinkler wore Mimi out.  She must've been running on adrenaline when we said goodbye to Grandma and Grandpa because three minutes after we pulled away she was dead to the world, passed out in her car seat. 

For Mimi's new bed we went, once again, to Ikea where we found something suitable, i.e. reasonably tasteful and cheap.  Shopping at Ikea isn't all that exciting, beyond the meatballs, so I'll spare you all the details, but I would like to spend a few moments to celebrate the most versatile automobile in history: the BMW 3-series wagon.

I've written of our beloved little wagon before, but it deserves multiple mentions.  Some may believe that an SUV is the ultimate multi-purpose vehicle, but none of them (save perhaps the Range Rover) even come close to fulfilling the number of roles my little 3-series wagon hacks carries off with ease. It's terrible off-road, but that's the only drawback.

This car is nice enough to take up for a weekend in Napa, but pedestrian enough to never raise an eyebrow.  It's safe and dependable, but handles better than some sports cars.  It will seat five in relative comfort, with all their luggage, but is still small enough to parallel park with ease.  It will putter along the freeway without complaint at 60, but feels even better at 80 or higher.  The fuel economy is reasonable, the looks are good, it's reliable, it's handsome, and it's humble enough (at least in white) for the CHP to disregard.  If BMW imported an M edition of the 3 series wagon I'd never buy another car.

Let me give you an example of this car's capabilities.  Today, we loaded up the car as shown below.

The stash included:

1. Camp stove
2. Four person tent
3. Sleeping bag
4. Sleeping mat
5. Fuel for the stove
6. 3 camping chairs
7. A camping set of pots and pans
8. Several bowls from Ikea
9. A complete child's bed frame
10. A full-size child's mattress
11. One insane toddler
12. One petite Japanese nephrologist
13. One fat, balding man of European ancestry

Even with all this baggage, I was still able to cram everything in without obstructing any sight lines.  Had it been the 1950s, Mimi could've even taken a nap on our way home!

Saturday (it's coming back to me) also involved some time in the wagon.  We were hosting a dinner party that night for three of Sumie's medical school friends (Jenny, Jen, and Stephen).  Mimi and I spent the morning picking up tasty tidbits for the party while Sumie stayed home and cleaned the house, a task beyond possibility when Mimi's present. 

Everyone arrived around 6.  Jenny brought her 3 month old son Russell, who the rather pregnant Jen is holding below. 

By 8 we were all having a wonderful time.  The food was good, the company was even better, and Mimi was having a ball playing Mama to little Russell.  And then, as it always does with toddlers, everything went to shit.  Literally. 

Mimi became a little over-excited playing with everyone and when I picked her up for trying to take someone's drink, she retaliated by slapping me in the face.  She's been doing a lot of this acting out recently - she's not exactly sure of the harm she can cause just yet - so I gave her a second chance.  She hit me again.  That was it.  Time out in the back bedroom. 

I set Mimi on the bed in the guest bedroom, facing the corner as usual.  She had two minutes to sit, pretend to moan (she still thinks we'll sympathize), and contemplate whatever it is a toddler contemplates when its parents want it to think about what its done.  Soon the two minutes were up and Sumie went to go get her.  That's when we realized that Mimi's slapping me was not what she had in mind to derail the dinner party.  She had something must more sinister up her sleeve.  Or should I say, under her diaper. 

Sumie entered the room to find a noxious smell and an even more vile river of refuse streaming down Mimi's leg and soaking into the bedspread.  She grabbed the vengeful, and by now quite satisfied child, and took her to the bathroom, where Mimi was placed in the bath tub clothing an all.  I heard from the bathroom, "Emergency!"  and came into the back bedroom to find a miniature Niagara Falls, rendered in septic brown, streaming down the bedspread. 

As I ran a code blue on the bed spread, Sumie began showering Mimi, who immediately decided to slip in the bath tub and let out a wail so piercing that it very well may be the clarion call of the zombie apocalypse.  Our guests,  traumatized I'm sure, continued  to eat and converse in the living room as Sumie and I scurried to hide the horror of our toddler's creation.  It was a full 20 minutes until Mimi was subdued and the laundry was running downstairs. 

The party ended on a high note, though (good pie and even better macaroons), and Mimi made up for her blunder with lots of kisses and hugs as our friends made their way out.  Even when Mimi horrifies, she can still cute her way out of it. 

It wasn't the most restful of weekend, but it was a memorable one.  And that's important when we're so busy.  So much can get lost in the rush of things, but Mimi always has a way of making sure we never overlook her.  Even tonight, after a weekend we won't soon forget, Mimi managed to put a final, personal stamp on our day.  Halfway through this blog post I heard some serious struggling from Mimi's room.  I stopped, listened, and then went back to writing.  A few minutes later I heard a few clunks and clangs and then a "Papa!"  Mimi didn't sound worried.  She didn't sound in pain.  It sounded like she wanted to show me something.  When I walked in, I discovered I was right.

Honestly.  No one but Mimi could think a massive wire rack is the best way to polish off an already overcrowded crib.  When I put her down she was wearing pajamas, and was cuddled with a two blankets and a few stuffed animals.  Half an hour later I discovered that Mimi - in the dark, mind you - had decided to strip off her clothes, move every single item she could lift into her crib, and then jump back in.  I suppose, at the end of the day and the end of the weekend, there is no explaining the toddler mind.  One just jumps in, buckles up, and hangs on.  It is, despite the insanity, still a rather enjoyable ride.

San Francisco Highs and Lows

New York City is a town of extremes.  San Francisco, its west coast, hipster, low-key cousin, is a city of highs and lows.  All the same dichotomies are present - rich and poor, old and young, native and transplant - but SF just seems a little less on edge, a little less likely to randomly shoot you in the head and throw you in the East River should you step out of line.  In SF there's more parking, larger apartments for less money, more smiles, and less screaming (except by the homeless).  This comes, however, at the price of fewer fantastic restaurants, less vibrant and more suburban neighborhoods, and less diversity.

Having lived in the extremes of NYC for 10 years, we'd become numb not only to the trials and tribulations, but also to immediate access to the best the world has to offer.  This made our first year in SF a bit difficult.  Granted, having parking, a room for Mimi, and a backyard was fantastic, but we sorely missed the "vibe" of Manhattan.  Only now, a year later, are we really beginning to settle into SF and feel that it's home.  Part of that, I think, has to do with my new job and the fun of working downtown (tall buildings and easy access to great food makes for a happy Papa).  Part of it must also be tied to time.  We've adjusted and we're building memories, happy memories mostly, here in our new town.

Today I'm sharing some of our recent "highs" here in SF and my own personal "low."  They're not all particular to the city itself, but they've all occurred here, so, at least in our minds, they're a part of this great city on the bay.

First off, our daycare situation with Mimi just keeps getting better and better.  One month ago I was worried that we'd be entering a new stage of Mimi daycare meltdowns: NYC Daycare 2.0.  But no.  The daycare centers we've found here in SF have been phenomenal: small, home-based, education-centered, and incredibly caring.  Basically, it's the kind of care we'd be giving as parents if we stayed home and had six kids (only infinitely more patient).

Mimi now straddles two daycare centers each week and has more friends than ever.  At her new center she's spent a lot of time playing in the backyard...

...hanging out in the park...

...and even taking the occasional field trip!  

Though both Sumie and I are a bit more tired in the evenings than we used to be with just one of us working, we've been having a great time with Mimi after work as well.  Last week (or was it the week before?) I shared a picture of a tunnel I built with Mimi's Japanese vocabulary cards.  She knocked this down in less than half an hour.  I knew I could do better for her.  I went back to the drawing board and built her a house.  This, despite Mimi pushing it over 3 times, lasted for several days which, of course, caused its own problems.  I was proud of the house lasting so long, but it did take up half the living room.  This morning we finally broke down and packed it away.  Mimi helped us destroy it.  That's her special talent.  

It's July now, which means we had to break out the sweatshirts and light jackets.  SF is odd when it comes to seasons.  Still, it's more comfortable than those insufferably hot and humid mid-summer nights in Manhattan and still plenty warm enough for Mimi to play in the backyard.  Here she is with her brand new duckie water-gun. 

Within a few minutes Mimi discovered the most inefficient way to water plants ever devised.  

Access to great food has been one of our biggest challenges with the move to SF.  Yes, I keep hearing that the food in SF is fantastic, but honestly (and I may get a lot of crap for this) the selection and quality doesn't hold a candle to NYC.  It's good, sure, but rather hit and miss and definitely expensive for what you get.  In short, Sumie and I have been a little frustrated on the food front for months now.  However, things are looking up.

The first development came with my new job downtown.  SOMA is food truck heaven.  I've found great burritos, amazing pork belly buns, and succulent Vietnamese sandwiches.  It's not cheap, but it's good.

Sumie and I have also made some serious headway in terms of Japanese food.  SF is just not good when it comes to authentic Japanese cuisine.  Again, many will probably try to argue this point.  Let's just say that I don't give a damn what you think of the spider roll or the rainbow roll because if that's what you're using to determine the quality of a Japanese restaurant (and 90% of Yelp reviewers do), you obviously have no idea what you're talking about when it comes to Japanese food. 

Anyway, we found a passable place for ramen and okonomiyaki: Genki, in the Richmond.  It doesn't seem to be Japanese owned, but the taste is fairly Japanese and the plates are tasty, if not authentic.  We have a go-to place for noodles.  Finally. 

 It reminds me a bit of the Chinese owned Mexican restaurant we'd order from in NYC.  That definitely wasn't authentic, but for some odd reason, it always hit the spot.

The other Japanese food development has been our discovery of "Oyaji," also in the Richmond district.  This is a traditional, old-school, Japanese-run izakaya (pub-style restaurant) that serves savory, delicious, authentic Japanese food that you can't find anywhere else.  For New Yorkers, this is the closest I've found to NYC's Yakitori Totto.  The taste isn't quite a subtle (it's definitely saltier), and the variety isn't as impressive, but it's good.  Damn good.

I think it was the pork belly that did it.  Braised pork belly is one of the dishes I use to gauge the quality of a real Japanese restaurant (if they serve it).  If it's "right," chances are most of the menu is right as well.  And Oyaji's pork belly was right as rain.  Granted, it wasn't the best I've ever had, but it took me back.  I felt a great weight leave my shoulders that night as I tucked into Oyaji's Japanese deliciousness.  Finding food like that here had a way of cementing San Francisco's potential as "home" like few other experiences.

We've covered some of the highs.  Now, the low.  And it is the the lowest low of the lows that I know.  It is the antithesis of all we hold dear as humans.  It is the steel beast that brings untold agony to millions.  It is the three-way bastard stepchild of neglect, idiocy, and poor personal hygiene.  It is San Francisco's MUNI system.

I ride one of their buses everyday to and from work.  Apart from the logo, which I have to admit is rather endearing...

...the rest of the system is a festering, puss-filled sore on the face of an otherwise wonderful city.

The MUNI system is antiquated, disorganized, bloated, inefficient, incompetent, mired in corruption, evil, sadistic, lecherous, and flatulent.  If it were human it'd be the type of guy who would never have cash when you go out as a group to eat.  And would never pay you back.  And would hit on your 12 year old sister when his girlfriend went to the bathroom.  And then would have too much to drink and drive home drunk.  As pictured here.

I'll save my serious rants and raves about SF MUNI for a future post.  It deserves many, many paragraphs.  For now, let's just say it's awful.

Despite the horrific daily presence of MUNI in my life, this city is still growing on me.  I'm happy to say that the highs, at least for now, are definitely outweighing the lows.  We're beginning to really enjoy this city, despite it's challenges, and it's feeling a bit more like home each day.

Busy Week, Crazy Toddler

It has been an odd week.  Between the new job, flip-flopping daycare schedules, and 4th of July occurring on a Wednesday, which made Thursday feel somehow like Monday and Friday at the same time, my brain has been a bit muddled.  The pictures below, which go back at most a week, seem like they were taken months ago. 

Last Saturday (Was it really only last Saturday? Yes, yes it was.) we attended a birthday party in Golden Gate Park.  Carlene, one of our daycare providers, was holding a party for her son, who was turning four.  It was firefighter themed, so we had to go!

 Mimi got her very own fire chief hat.

She enjoyed hanging out with her daycare friends and spilling juice all over her father.  He told her where she could go should she do it again.

The highlight, I think, was the body painting.  Mimi wasn't quite ready for Carlene to paint her face, but she readily gave up her hand.  

She was quite proud of that lady bug...

...but it wasn't her favorite memento from the day.  After her bath that night, the ladybug was gone, but the fire chief's hat managed to stay on.

The next day we headed down to Palo Alto to get together with Sumie's family (it had been a few weeks).  Mimi and Asuka, closest in age, are really becoming pals.  Mimi brought out Asuka's toy stroller which, amazingly, still fits our petite two year old.  

Asuka, playing Mama, pushed Mimi back into the house to get some toys...

...across the giant lawn...

...and around the entire courtyard.  Poor Asuka must've been exhausted that night. 

Mimi, having relaxed in her stroller the entire time, had plenty of energy to entertain her cousin Haruki, and even give him a kiss or two.  

We got home very late from Palo Alto that Sunday night, which was an appropriate start to a week that has been a complete blur.  Two things I remember quite clearly.  First, I constructed a giant tunnel from Japanese letter and vocabulary cards (at Mimi's request).  This tunnel stood for nearly half an hour until Mimi ran it over with her wagon.

The other moment that sticks out took place on Friday, right after I picked Mimi up from daycare.  For some reason she insisted on lying in the street.  She wasn't tired.  She wasn't fussy.  She wasn't ill.  She just wanted to lie down on the pavement for a minute or two.  Odd, odd girl.  

This weekend Sumie's on call so I'm home alone with Mimi.  It's been fun so far (knock on wood) and she's been a sweetheart (knock even harder).  If she behaves, I'll probably blog about our time together in my next post.  And if she doesn't behave, I'll definitely post about it. 

Two Weeks with Grandma

Fortunately, we were able to find fantastic daycare for Mimi by the time I started my new job.  Unfortunately, both our daycare centers decided to go on vacation in June, one the third week of June, one the fourth.  What to do?  Bring in Grandma. 

As I wrote previously, the offer letter for my new position arrived exactly one year - the the day - after I left my old job in New York.  In keeping with this "just in time" approach to a career, my first day of work was also the first day of my mother's retirement.  I guess it was just meant to be. 

Sumie and I were overjoyed to have such excellent back-up care, but not as happy as Mimi.  She'd get to spend four full days with Grandma, here in SF and at home, over two weeks.  I could barely get her to bed the first night before Grandma's visit.

Grandma took Mimi to the park...

...blew bubbles with her in the backyard...

...and even made sure she brushed her teeth after meals.

One of the days was cold and rainy, so Mimi played dress-up.  Here she is imitating her lovely Mama...

...and here's her J-pop debut.  I wonder if she'll make it into AKB48.

Of course, being the tomboy she is, Mimi couldn't spend all her time dressing up.  Before long she was astride her wagon, honking away.

And then she felt she had to wear a diaper on her head.  No, she's not in a sorority.  I don't get it either.  Maybe it's a manic toddler thing.

On Grandma's last day Mimi got to visit the neighborhood gym, which is decked out for toddlers.

The giant space was a bit intimidating, but Mimi found confidence riding fish...

...and playing under parachutes.

But the past two weeks weren't all play.  Mimi knew how hard Grandma was working taking care of her.  So she decided to help clean.  I'm still surprised Grandma didn't end up in the hospital after this shot.  

Mimi made the adjustment this week back to full-time daycare just fine, but I can tell she's wondering when Grandma will come back.  I have a feeling she's a little spoiled when Grandma's here.  Well, I guess that's what Grandma's are for, right?  Mom, thanks for watching our little one over the past two weeks.  It was a greater help than you know!