Chalk Drawing Approval, Halloween Costume Rejection

Yesterday was, without fear of contradiction, the most low-key Halloween I've every experienced, including when I lived in Japan.  Apart from the bowl of candy in the foyer, the puppy costume on the floor, and the lone trick-or-treater we received around 7:30, it could have been a random day in May. 

Mimi did her best to ensure that the Halloween spirit was fully subdued.  She loves dogs, so we bought her a cute little puppy costume for her.  It came with a puppy cape, hood, paw mittens, and paw booties.  None of which Mimi would wear for more than an eighth of a second.  Here she is with the hood actually up. 

And here she is one-twentieth of a second later. 

The only time Mimi really got into the Halloween spirit was when she put the laundry "delicates" bag over her head and became the world's least threatening ghost.  She made Casper and Charlie Brown look like the Marquis de Sade and Genghis Khan.

 With Halloween play out of favor, we headed out to the backyard to play with Mimi's new sidewalk chalk set.

The session began with a giant rendition of Miffychan.  Should the aliens come they'll quickly be able to spot which San Francisco home has the cutest toddler.  Unfortunately for them, there are no warnings that she is also the loudest.

After making several improvements to the Miffy sketch, Mimi decided it was time to play with watering bucket.  She still loves this.

Unfortunately, all the water play made Mimi thirsty.  And when she's thirsty, the watering bucket instantly transforms into a drinking fountain.  Luckily, Papa is well aware of his daughter's delusions, and had rinsed out the bucket thoroughly.  Well, somewhat thoroughly. 

Soon it was time to draw again.  This time Papa attempted to draw Thomas the Tank Engine.  Mimi inspected his work carefully...

and, even after taking a few steps back, still had no idea what her father was on about. 

Yes, you're right, Mimi.  Your father is a crap artist.  He really does appreciate, though, that you don't make fun of his drawings.  At least, not yet. 

San Franciscans' Weekend Strategy: Escape the City!

It's a very odd practice for us, having come from Manhattan.

In NYC, we would "weekend" in the city.  Granted, we didn't have the money for a place in the Hamptons, but I don't think that's why we so often decided not to leave the island.  First off, I never wanted to give up my parking spot.  On most Fridays I would've fought for at least an hour to find one, so there was no way I was leaving just to go through that again.  Another reason was the accessibility of the city.  We could get anywhere via cab, subway, or shoes.  And the wealth of options for entertainment was, quite simply, more than we could ever ask for.  Sometimes we'd simply stay in just because there were too many options from which to choose.

In San Francisco, however, there seems to be a pervasive culture of "escaping the city" on the weekends.  Perhaps I'm wrong in this - having lived here only two months, and in the Richmond District at that - but I've definitely gotten the impression that most San Franciscans use their weekends not to explore the city, but the achingly beautiful natural wonders that surround it.

I've been trying to figure out why this is.  Part of it, I think, has to do with how transportation in the city works.  A combination of MUNI buses and BART can get you places, but not very conveniently and not with much stuff.  A car, however, can get you anywhere.  And unlike Manhattan, parking is relatively convenient and inexpensive.  More difficult than most cities, but still quite manageable.  With SF still being geared toward the car, despite the almost militaristic bicycle lobby, most residents still own at least one.  And this, I think, leads many SF residents to explore beyond the boundaries of home.  That and a lot of fog!

It's a very different way of living, I have to admit, but Sumie and I are getting used to it.  This weekend started for us on Friday, when we drove the 5 blocks (this would never have happened in Manhattan) to go to "Ju-Ku," a Japanese izakaya in the Richmond District.

Mimi, for once, was actually relatively well behaved.  Maybe she knew just how much her father wanted to enjoy his kushiage (Japanese fried food on sticks).  Dinner was very good, and featured the best Japanese fried chicken (karaage) that I've had in years.  Better than my own.  I left the restaurant very satisfied and a little envious.

On Saturday we headed up to Mill Valley, a small town off 101 in Marin County, to visit a great toy store we'd learned about and to explore Marin a bit more.  We really loved it up there.  It's strange.  In NYC, 10 to 15 miles out of Manhattan felt like an eternity, but here it feels absurdly close.  I can't help but think that we'll probably end up outside of San Francisco proper in a few years.  Well, we'll see.  Perhaps I'll look back on this entry in a year or two and be amazed at how ignorant and naive I'd been.

From Mill Valley we drove up to what must have been California's busiest In-n-Out Burger.  It was well worth the wait, though.  Those burgers never get old.  I can taste them now, actually.

After lunch we headed down, and then back up, into the the Marin Headlands.  What a perfect day for it.  Completely clear and a sunny 70 degrees.  This was, I think, around the time NYC was going through a snowstorm.  I guess some things are better on the west coast.  The view of San Francisco and the Golden Gate from the headlands was breathtaking.  Naturally, I had forgotten my good camera, so these pics come via iPhone.  They don't really do the sight justice.  

I've loved the Marin Headlands since I was a kid.  One of the primary reasons are the numerous military installations, particularly cannon batteries, that dot the area.  We visited the "Wallace Battery," constructed in 1942 out of fear of a possible Japanese attack on the West Coast.  The cannon are gone, but the fortifications remain.

Nature has definitely been creeping back, but that makes the sites all the more fun to explore.  Mimi enjoyed "foofing" seeds from a puff-plant (wish I knew the name of it as, given that I don't, I'm going to be shunned by my botanically pretentious sister).

Getting out of the city really was a welcome change.  And I've a feeling that if I lived outside SF, coming in for a dinner or a trip to the museum would feel just as exciting.  Looking forward to learning more about where our family be on the bay in the years to come.

12 Days On, 2 Days Off

We're quite happy it's Friday around here.  The weekend has been well-earned.

As part of her new position, Sumie takes call for a full week at a time.  The shift begins on a Friday morning, passes through the weekend, and finally comes to a close the morning of the following Friday. Thankfully, this week her call shift has been relatively light - no 2am emergency pages - but it has made for some very long days, and an even longer week.  A 12-day week, in fact.

Sumie did an amazing job over this last call.  No matter how tired she might have been, or how early she had woken up that day, once she got home she was all Mimi's.  I can't begin to share just how proud I am of her for being there for Mimi so thoroughly and consistently.  Mimi's thankful, too.  She may not be able to say so yet, but given that she yells out "Mama!" with unbridled eagerness whenever she hears the garage door, I think it's pretty apparent.

Naturally, when Sumie's on call it means that I, to a certain degree, am on "Papa-call."  Weekends are like weekdays - just me and Mimi - and I can't go out evenings as Sumie may be called in.  The first time I took Papa-call, several weeks ago, I went a bit haywire.  I've always liked having time to myself and, as I've discovered, toddlers are not very good at giving parents their "space."  As the week progressed, I felt more and more tied down.  Though I was technically free to do whatever I wanted, my actions had to meet with Mimi's approval.  As such, freedom only came at nap time.

Because the last one was a little rough, I was anxious about going through this week's call with Mimi.  I'm very thankful to report that things have improved.  The week really has, for reasons I can't fully explain, been a joy.  Though Mimi and I have had our disagreements (7 or 8 regarding the reading of books have occurred while writing this blog post.  Mimi won every time.) we're learning how to live with each other in relative harmony.  She's starting to get that when Papa's in his chair, Papa's working.  And I'm starting to get that even when I'm in my chair, sometimes there are things, like a quick book read, that supercede whatever I'm working on.

One major difference between the last Papa-call and this one has been how Mimi and I interact.  Only a few weeks ago, the relationship felt much more like care-giver and client.  But now, it's more like we're playmates.

I'm still in charge - at least theoretically - and she still drives me nuts on a regular basis, but there's a much greater sense of play, and even teamwork, in all that we do.  It's almost as if our small, daily actions - reading, flashcards, drawing, eating, napping, shopping, etc. - are helping us to form a greater dialog.  In other words, there feels to be some actual two-way communication now!

I didn't expect the change, but it is a very welcome and very heartwarming one.  I guess both Mimi and I have grown up a bit this last week.

Granted, one of us still likes to crawl under the coffee table, but I think we'll let that one slide.

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!

Full Moon, Empty Aquarium

Life in San Francisco is often a bit grey - grey skies, grey sidewalks, grey parking regulations, and grey loitering laws.

The clouds tend to come in shortly after, if not before, the sun goes down, obscuring the stars and moon.  So last night, with its unmuddied sky and full moon, was a rare opportunity to dabble in a little night photography.

We don't have much of a view from our backyard - just more backyards and backs of homes.  But at night, with the sky lit by the moon and resident windows still twinkling with the last lights before bed, it can be rather pretty.

I should've gone over to the park, or at least to the top of our block, to take some more shots, but didn't.  I was lazy.  I did take Mimi for a long bike ride that day - she still hates her helmet and screams for up to 9 blocks to remind me - so maybe it's OK that I just came in and went to bed.

The following morning Mimi and I woke up early and took advantage of our close proximity to the Academy of Sciences.  We have a membership, so we can go anytime, and it's free!

Regular readers of this blog may remember our visit here with my Mom about a month back.  The day we went - the third Wednesday of the month - featured free admission (this was before I got my membership), so the museum was packed.  It made Shinjuku station in Tokyo seem tranquil by comparison.  What a joy it was to sneak down to the aquarium this morning and have it virtually to ourselves.  The photos below were taken in low light and with my phone (it was too early in the morning for me to remember my camera), so I apologize if they're a bit grainy/fuzzy. 

Walking to the elevators, Mimi was a bit unsure of the plexiglass beneath her feet.  Could she trust it?  The rays below her feet were a bit intimidating.

 Once in the aquarium Mimi ran for the huge floor-to-ceiling plexiglass wall.  I'm glad the walls were thick.  She loved banging on them.  She also tended to forget that the walls were there, which resulted in some significant head banging.  Ah, my daughter the metal-head.

By 10 a few school groups had arrived, which both delighted and distracted Mimi.  She joined multiple tours without asking, and often offered her unsolicited opinion of "Aaahhhh!, Bi-doh!" on the exhibits.

After about an hour Mimi was ready to go.  As we walked out into the sunshine we passed well over 100 kids lined up for a tour.  The museum had been gradually filling all morning and it had been getting harder for Mimi to toddle with impunity.  I think we'll make it a habit of going early in the morning.  That same strategy seems to work quite well here in SF.  The city is full of late risers.  More on the advantages this provides sometime in the future.

All told, it was a good day out.  We passed the playground, inadvertently, on our way home.  While were were still over 100 yards away, with but a blurry glimpse of half a slide in sight, Mimi began to go nuts. She saw the park, knew what she wanted, and made it known.  I had to "release" her from her stroller a good 30 yards before the sandpit.

If only she could get that excited about eating lunch or going to bed!

An Average Evening: Lemons, Helicopters, and Passing Out

On most evenings we have about 2-3 hours after Sumie gets home before Mimi goes to bed.  This is our family time and it's generally filled with cooking and eating dinner, washing up, putting Mimi's toys away seven or eight times, the occasional bath, and reading stories.  It's a pretty full slate for only three hours, but Mimi is somehow able to impose her own agenda as well each night.

Several nights ago Mimi decided to take a liking to lemons.  Around 6:30pm she decided that lemons were her new favorite toy.  I still don't fully understand the attraction - she doesn't drink lemonade, take lemon in her milk, poach halibut in a lemon butter sauce, or even suck on sour lemon drops - but I suppose they are colorful, smell good, fun to throw, and make a satisfying "thunk" when they land on the kitchen tile. 

Mimi managed to play with this basket of yellow citrus for over an hour. 

 I think she'll enjoy lemonade in the future.  Here she is attempting to drink a lemon.  She doesn't quite have the concept, yet. 

The evening isn't all about citrus love, however.  Mimi's joys are always counterbalanced by things that make her scream, whine, or cower.  This time it was my remote control helicopter.  This noisy little flea, which weighs little more than an ounce or so, struck abject terror into Mimi at first. 

But with time, and a few gentle passes overhead, she began to find it interesting. 

By the end of the evening she'd applaud each successful landing.  And yes, it is difficult to fly a helicopter and to take pictures at the same time.

I've always loved machines, but I had no idea one could bond so quickly with a helicopter.  It makes me wonder.  Does she think it's an animal, like her stuffed dog and cat?  Does it have free will in her world?  Does it want to be friends?  Can it be trusted?  Why does Papa sometimes follow it around the house?  I wish that I could peek inside. 

Once we're done with dinner, and we've gone through Mimi's flashcards and a few books, it's time for Mimi's bedtime bottle.  I guess it had been a long day because Mimi, who usually sucks down her bottle in 5 minutes to return to play, was soon completely passed out.  Must've been some pretty strong milk...

Tuckered out, Papa takes her to bed.  At 16 months she's just taken to laying her head on my shoulder.  She'd always keep her head up as an infant, but now that she's a little older she seems to take some comfort in Papa's ample padding.  Maybe it's just that the house is rather cold and Papa radiates a lot of heat...

Mimi generally sleeps through the night and wakes the next morning ready to play.  Here she is still in her jammies.  She insisted that I take this picture in front of my MacBook with my iPhone as a little "thank you" to Steve Jobs.  She knows the role he played in making sharing Mimi's life so much easier than it would have been even 5 years ago. 

But with each passing there is a new arrival.  Just this morning Mimi learned that she has a new baby cousin.  Haruki Ling was born this morning to Kae and Eddie Ling around 6:00am!  Mimi will be working hard to become a good role model for him, I'm sure of it. 

Chance of Rain: 30%; Chance of Meltdown: 100%

Going out with Mimi is always a gamble.  No matter how much milk we take or how many toys we pack, she will eventually have a meltdown.  It's just a matter of time.  We've gotten to the point now that we usually reach home, or at least the car, before the histrionics begin.  But there are times when Mimi just simply loses it and cannot be consoled.  And so, each trip out, no matter how exciting the prospects, begins with a slight sense of trepidation.  Will we get through the event without mishap?  Will I be able to navigate the streets of San Francisco, which I'm still learning, in peace, or accompanied by piercing screams?  Will the strangers we pass think of me as a calm and collected father or as a man so incompetent when it comes to parenting that even sea monkeys should be spared from my care?  Will the outing end with a smile on my face or tear and saliva stains on my shirt?

As you may have guessed, we tend to choose our outings carefully.  Last weekend the Farmers' Market at the Ferry Building seemed like a safe bet.  And, thankfully, it was a welcome and wonderful outing. 

We arrived at the market early.  Well, early for us.  Getting anywhere with Mimi by 10:00 in the AM is quite an accomplishment.  Fresh fruit and vegetable stands surrounded the renovated ferry building, along with a number of food venders, each with a considerable line.  We browsed through the stalls with Mimi in her stroller.  The serene shopping lasted a good 15 minutes.

When Mimi began to squirm and moan Sumie pulled her out and, instead of carrying her, allowed her to toddle alongside the stroller for the first time.  We were amazed.  What a walker she turned out to be!  This allowed us to head over to the Golden Gate Meat Company to get some pastrami.  A quick note on this pastrami: on "Yelp" it is voted as one of the city's best, but that's just not the case.  It is delicious, but it tastes far more like smoked brisket than pastrami.  If you're wanting pastrami, this isn't it.  Ok, back to the story...

With "pastrami" and breakfast sandwiches in hand, we headed out to the benches overlooking the bay.  Mimi ate standing up - her preferred eating position when we're out - and quickly polished off half the breakfast sandwich.  Full, she decided to befriend a little Japanese girl sitting next to us.  They didn't talk much, but they did seem to like each others' shoes.  Just before we went back into the market a kindly man offered to take a picture of us.

The fruits and vegetables at the farmers' market are amazing, but by no means cheap.  Don't even pretend to think you're going to get a deal here.

The standout item of the day, which was also a bit pricey, was a natural soda carbonated by lactic fermentation.  Very cool and very tasty.  Even Mimi enjoyed it, though half the soda ended up on her shirt.

We returned home without incident.  Overall, an great day out.  Short, but much appreciated.  I'm hoping that once Mimi gets a bit better at communicating we'll be able to take some longer trips.  But until then, we're sticking to 3 hours or less!

So, You Think You Can Make Me Nap?

A Look Inside Mimi's Brain at Nap Times

Saturday: 1:00pm
Where are we going?  Oh, the kitchen, to get my bottle?  Foolish parent.  Don't you know it's Saturday?  Mommy is home.  You may not think I understood this, but I know she was on call last weekend and now that she's here, I'm going to make the most of it.  


Alright, we're in my room now.  You've given me warm milk and turned on the sleep sheep.  I hope you know that laying me down in my cradle with warm milk and soothing ocean sounds may have worked in the past, but not today, buddy.  That's right.  Go ahead.  Shut the door and go out to the living room to watch your precious episode of Top Gear while I down this bottle of milk.  I'm going to get your hopes up by being quiet, lull you into a false sense of security, and then blow your little mind.  

(5 minutes pass)

Oh, look who's back?  It's Papa.  That's right.  Pick me up and give me a kiss.  Cradle me and put me down in the crib on my back.  Where's my blanket?  Ah, very good, you didn't forget.  That's right, go ahead and leave.  Now I'll just sit back and (yawn) bide my time.  

(5 minutes pass)

Wah, what?  Damn!  I let that fat bastard lull me to sleep.  Well, it's time to let him know that that crap ain't gonna fly on a Saturday afternoon with Mama home.  

I'll start off soft.  Yeah, that's the ticket.  Soft and quiet with a few little whimpers of discontent.  Let him think I'm just turning over or kicking off my blanket.  From there I'll take a solid 5 minutes to work myself into a wailing frenzy.  

(5 minutes pass.  Significant teeth clenching in the living room occurs.)

That's right.  I can hear the two of you arguing.  You want to come get me, but you're still going to try to wait it out.  Idiots.  For that insolence I'm going to up the ante.  Here comes 10 minutes of contented babble.  I'm going to make you think I'm playing.  And then I'll play my trump card - 5 minutes of pure, unadulterated silence.  

(15 minutes pass)

I can still hear you, you fools!  Listen to you!  Talking about the morning's trip to the Ferry Building and the upcoming visit with Grandma and Grandpa this afternoon.  The two of you sound so content.  It's almost as if you're savoring this time you have without me.  Well, I'll soon put an end to your ignorant delusions.  Here it comes.  I'm gonna scream at the top of my lungs until you burst through the door thinking I've given myself a hernia or contracted appendicitis.  

(7.5 excruciating minutes pass)

Ha-ha!  Look who's come skulking into my room.  It's Papa.  And he's picking me up.  Excellent.  Papa - please understand that it hurts me to say this - for a man with so much supposed experience and learning you really are quite easy to manipulate.  Honestly, why don't you challenge me a bit.  After all, I'm 16 months old now!  

These parents of mine need to get craftier and I can absolutely guarantee that they're not going to do so without some serious tutoring on my part.  I can already tell that they'll try to put me down again around 3:00 or 3:30 before Grandma and Grandpa come.  Let it be known I'm not going down.  And if they try again halfway through the visit, bollocks to that!  I'll wail from the very start.  They'll be lucky if they get 5 minutes alone in the living room!  

Honestly, it's not that I "enjoy" inflicting such pain on them, but they're ignorant.  They need to learn.  It's not my fault I can't talk yet.  This is the only way I can show them the error of their ways.  They'll just have to hang tough until they get their act together.  I'm more than willing to wait.  

Oh, and at dinner, just to mix things up again, I think I'll put some udon noodles in my hair.  That will keep them perplexed for a bit.

As you may have guessed, it was a challenging weekend.  Sumie was on call the weekend before and I think that Mimi has been too excited having her home all day to get any rest.  Despite the bedtime battles, it was a wonderful weekend.  More on our Ferry Building visit and trip to the flea market in posts to come.  Also, even without a nap, Mimi had a great time with Grandma and Grandpa.  It's amazing how she can still find energy to play despite going non-stop all day.  She is, despite her age, definitely hard core.

A Day for Meat Wrapped in Dough

The Richmond District of San Francisco, though rather foggy, has a lot to offer.  First off, it's between two fantastic parks: Golden Gate Park to the south and the Presidio to the north.  Second, there are multiple mini-parks as well.  Perfect for a quick afternoon play session.  Here's Mimi making her way through a tunnel for the first time!  She was a bit unsure at first, as usual, but soon loved it and refused to come out.  My body was...how shall I say this...a bit too generously proportioned to go in and get her out. 

Third, though the neighborhood, particularly Clement street, is known as San Francisco's second Chinatown, there's a wealth of astounding and affordable restaurants hailing from almost every culture across the board.  Dim Sum is cheap and plentiful at "Good Luck" on Clement, the Banh Mi (Vietnamese Sandwiches) are to die for at Little Vietnam Cafe on 6th ave, and the best garlic sausage you'll ever find is at the Seakor Polish Deli on Geary.  Mix in some fabulous pizza at Giorgio's, savory burritos at Gordo, and a few succulent burgers at Bill's Place, and the Richmond gives many Manhattan neighborhoods a run for their money. 

The historical Irish and current Russian population also adds to the culinary prowess of the neighborhood, particularly when it comes to the meat stuffed in dough category.  Stuffed pies and pastries are foodstuffs sadly overlooked here in America.  We have the often poorly produced pot pie, as well as bagel and corn dogs, but nothing to match a good English or Irish pasty.  And that brings me to John Campbell's Irish Bakery and their perfectly filling $5.00 pasty.  It's basically a shepherd's pie in flaky crust.  How can you go wrong?

But if $5.00 is a bit too steep, may I suggest a peroshki.  The Moscow and Tbilisi bakery offers beef piroshkis, each the size of 7 churros, for a mere $2.00 a piece.  If ever I need to live on $4.00 a day, this restaurant is how I would do so.  The picture below is but a snippet of the entire piroshki, pared down so that it could feed me, Mimi, and half of Wisconsin. 

Why have we, as Americans, forsaken these amazing foods.  They're inexpensive, portable, filling, and delicious!  Even Japan has their own take on them with the curry donut!  I can't explain it.  And don't try to say that calzones or, God forbid, "Hot Pockets" are the same thing.  That's just not the case.

Even babies love them.  After just a month, Mimi has already become a devoted fan.  Of course, a piroshki needs to be part of a balanced meal - like the one below with hearty udon noodles and tasty, vegetable-laden salad.

As you can see, Mimi approves.

Cooking for Mimi is often a challenge.  She rarely likes the same thing from one day to the next.  We're lucky if we can stretch what appears to be a favorite food into the next meal.  But, for some reason, she consistently devours pasties and piroshkis without complaint.  Perhaps she is my child after all...

Wake up! I Wanna Play!

Twice a day this phrase blares from the confines of Mimi's bedroom.  Closed doors and solid walls cannot hold it back.  Granted, she does not put her request so concisely and ungrammatically.  In the morning, Mimi brings out her father with either a massive and piercing wail - which could wake a heroin addict from even the deepest stupor - or with sweet and gentle babble, which I imagine is her personal commentary on the skill with which she's thrown her bedclothes to the floor.  In the afternoon, between 2pm and 4pm, Papa will be called from his book or his writing with a gentle to aggressively insistent "ih-hi, ih-hi, ih-hi, aaaaaahhhhhhhh!"  No matter what, though, when I go in to get her, I'm always greeted with a sweet smile.  It helps to take the sting off those cut-short mornings and interrupted afternoon naps.  

Yesterday though, for the first time, this same phrase was uttered in my home with Mimi sound asleep.  That's right.  I said it.  I was bored.  I didn't want to read.  I didn't want to watch Top Gear.  All I wanted to do was play with my loveable, but insane, little girl.  And so, I wanted her to wake up.

I opened the door to her room.  On any other day this would be absolute folly, bordering on the edge of suicidal behavior.  But I didn't care.  This was going against every previous fiber of my being.  Each afternoon and each evening - and I don't think this is going to change, actually - I start yearning for Mimi's eyes to get heavy.  When they do, and she finally submits to the crib, it means I get a little precious time to myself.  This time is worth its weight in myrrh (and this calculation is done with each half-hour equating to 2 metric tons).  Here I was with time to myself - I could listen to music, play Gran Turismo, eat a burrito, read European history focused on the 1930s and 1940s, search for vintage audiophile gear, the possibilities were endless - and yet all I wanted to do was submit myself to the whims of a little girl who says "Wee!" like a chain-smoking and drunken Frenchman.

To be honest, our playtime gets more fun each day.  With each new activity I see more and more of her individual personality coming out.  Of course, sometimes it's unpleasant (random passion for or hatred of certain books, for example), but most of the time she surprises me and leaves me laughing.  I never really know what's going to happen.

Here are a few pictures of Mimi at play.  The first three were taken at the Children's Park in Golden Gate Park, which is just phenomenal on a sunny day.  Like her father, Mimi has a passion for water.  Despite the many toys and distractions, she always makes a beeline for the flooded section of the sandbox.  This makes for a messy stroll home, but she loves it!

And then there's the backyard.  Fewer distractions here, so yesterday Mimi decided she'd be mesmerized by the sky.  This was cute until our next door neighbor decided to introduce herself, for the first time, just as Mimi was pretending to be a pseudo-philosophical college student high on some very introspective pot.   

Me wanting Mimi to wake up, despite it resulting in less time to myself, has been a welcome development.  It's rather sad to think that before I know it Mimi will have little interest in playing with her father.  She'll just want to text her friends.  And that's why I need to make the most of the time I have with her now.  It's also why she's not getting an active mobile phone until she's 27.

The First Born: Parentally Challenged

Last night Mimi played host to all of her Japanese cousins to celebrate her aunt Kayo's birthday.  By 6pm our little home was inundated with 6 relatively sedate adults and their 5 little ones.  Mimi, the youngest, worked extra hard (i.e. yelled even louder than usual) to make sure she wasn't lost in the shuffle.

Here's Mimi with her cousin Nana.  "Just a moment.  I'm drinking my milk!"  Nothing, not even family, comes between Mimi and her bottle. 

Steve's personal toy collection proved to be immensely popular and provided an excellent source of entertainment for the kids (and some level of anxiety for Steve).  Yes, if you haven't guessed already, that's an original Transformers "Megatron" in Shuhei's excited, but actually quite gentle, hands.  "Jetfire" looks on as Mimi goes to work on "Thrust" who, shortly after this photo, had both his wings ripped off and thrown into the other room.  That's my darling little girl.

Although Mimi was the youngest in the group, she was definitely not the most inhibited.  She's much closer in age to Sayuri and Asuka, who are both the second born in their families, but when it comes to temperament, she seems to take after her older cousins, both first born like her.  This surprised me at first, but then I got to thinking: maybe, despite family differences, all first-born children go through a somewhat similar experience.  Parenting has perhaps the steepest learning curve of any profession.  It's not that new parents do anything wrong, they just don't do much right.  And this has to leave some sort of imprint on the kids; something that all first-born share. 

But why is it that all new parents are so similarly challenged?  Shouldn't parenting be innate?  We see it, experience it, and talk about it all our lives, so why, when it finally comes our turn, do we struggle so?  I still don't know for sure, but this morning, while passing a laundromat, I stumbled across a possible analogy.

Sheet Folding and the First Child

It's the first day of your new job as a professional bed sheet folder for Reynholm Industries.  You are charged with expertly folding 300 individual sheets by the end of the day.  At 30-something years old you've done your fair share or laundry and feel confident that folding sheet after freshly-pressed sheet shouldn't be all that much of a challenge. 


How wrong you are.  The first 20 to 30 sheets you fold are a massive challenge.  Your hands never seem to move the cloth correctly and the resulting pile of linen is a haphazard and jumbled mess.  However, by the 50th sheet you seem to be getting the hang of it.  At the 100th sheet you are really moving along and with excellent accuracy.  This continues all the way up to around sheet 280 or so.  You're almost finished and, with the prospect of a free afternoon and some cash thanks to a job well done, you stop thinking about your work and start focusing on the evening to come.  You get a bit lazy and your folding, while still acceptable, is definitely sub-par.  

Right now, as a new parent, I'm still making my way through those first 100 sheets.  I think I may be somewhere around sheet 37.  There's still a long way to go.  Hopefully, by the next kid, I'll be around sheet 100 or so and I'll be able to forget that I ever proposed this rather sheety analogy (sorry, I couldn't help it).