June is a busy month around the Dude casa. School’s out, so that’s adds to the crazy. There are also a few special days for us to celebrate. A bunch of family birthdays…Lady in the Shoe has like 25 kids. Close to home, we have the Princess and Little Dude celebrating their big day only five days apart…great for duel bday parties!
But beyond the cake and candles, me and the Mrs. share our anniversary early in the month. We celebrated with a great dinner at a local restaurant, but I let time slip by without a post to commemorate the day.
I had a video saved to share, but I filed it away where I couldn’t find, so here we are three weeks late after I stumbled upon it. I considered saving it for next year, but clearly my filing system needs some improvement. So I figured I’d share now. Better late than never.
Happy belated anniversary Mrs. Dude. Here’s to our version of Danny & Annie…
After four and a half months, it was time to part ways. We made it through a lot together, but it had to end at some point.
When we flipped the seasonal script to Spring a couple weeks ago, the winter beard came off. It’s tough to destroy a creation I worked on for so long, but it’s kind of liberating. That thing was a beast.
It was the biggest beard I’ve had, and it was pretty sweet, but the Dude is ready for some spring. I’m ready for warm days, veggies growing in the garden, and surf with something lighter than a lead suit.
Luckily Mrs. Dude surprised me with a great photo session to memorialize Winter Beard 2011. Don’t worry my Dad has a beard…awesome!
We go through our days acting like we have it all figured out. Simply tune into 24-hour news station to hear experts being experty…O’reilly anyone?
But that’s just an extreme example. We all do it. Everyday, all day. That’s how we get through life. Fake it until we make it.
Parenting is nothing but faking it until we make it. Bachelor Dude was not much different from Daddy Dude. Sure, we lived a somewhat different daily existence, but down deep, we’re the same dude. But one day I woke up and I was a Dad, and the the parental faking began. My parents did it before me, and their’s before them. That’s how we exist. We experience, and we learn from our experiences.
However, the rub is that down deep, we really don’t know…about anything. We can act like we are the best parents in the world, but we’re just making it up as we go. We’re ok given our conditions, but no one has the answers. In the same way that no corporation is the perfect corporation, no government is the perfect government, no country the perfect country. We need to be careful of the “experts” we put our faith in.
We let our experty faking abilities cloud the reality that regardless of how much we have advanced as a civilization (mind you many civilizations have advanced quite well before us), we are still very far from understanding the most essential mysteries of life. We are easily consumed by our daily activities, but if we take the time to ponder the biggest of the big pictures, it is easy to see we are clueless.
Which isn’t a bad thing. In fact, it’s a great thing. Acknowledging the unknown creates so much opportunity. It allows us to drop our minor worries (that often seem major) and focus our attention on priorities. Cheesy, yes…but life, love, family, happiness, community. All of the really fun, warm words that bring us closer to each other.
Where is my rabbit hole of ramblings leading us?
Mrs. Dude and I battle over bugs. Mrs. Dude is very anti-bug in the house….especially spiders. Not that I’m pro-bug in the house, but the Dude generally abides. I’m not overly concerned about a spider.
Mrs. Dude used to squeal an ax-murder scream and expect the Dude to ride in on his white horse to save her every time a bug was encountered. Then reality set in. I don’t kill bugs. I catch them and put them outside. And most of the time I don’t catch them well, so they generally escape.
I’m not worried about it. I’m not bothering the bug; I don’t expect them to bother me. This philosophy doesn’t sit well with Mrs. Dude.
Reluctantly, she has accepted me for who I am. She now kills her own bugs…and leaves them for me to clean up.
But the deep questions still linger in my mind. While I am now just the janitor that scoops up the kill, I’m still involved in the process. It makes me wonder where we draw these arbitrary lines.
If I’m confused, my kids must be as well. Should I just fake it until I make it? Ignore my ignorance of the answers to life’s deeper questions?
So, the ramblings lead us here, to this video. I came across this video today, and I was going to share it with Mrs. Dude so she’ll know what I’m singing to her every time she requests that I clean up a dead bug, but then I figured a quick blog post would be in order. Now 45 minutes and 10 paragraphs later I’m finally getting to the video.
In honor of Mrs. Dude’s southern roots, I figured I’d spice up the blog with a little “southern speak.” Although, considering the majority of my “southern speak” comes from The Princess’ DVD of old My Little Pony episodes, please forgive me if I misuse any phrases. I “might could” make a mistake here and there.
As I did who knows what in the other room, Mrs. Dude snapped this picture. What could warm the Dude’s heart more than my boys looking for Daddy?!
the act of driving with illegal weapons or drugs. First coined by Houston Rap group U.G.K.(Bun B and Pimp C) In a song “ridin dirty”
“Somebody told the laws that Bun was the one ridin dirty.”
Mrs. Dude and I don’t let Little Dude play with illegal weapons or drugs just yet, but he’s been ridin’ dirty baby style for the past week; a walker!
The Dude’s parental units graced us with their presence last weekend, and while visiting the Mrs. mentioned that we recently ordered a “walker” for the Boy. Grammie then proceeded to explain that the “toy” we just ordered, and is now being delivered, does not pass the Grammie-nurse standards; it should not be called a “walker” because it doesn’t teach a baby to walk, and it’s actually an accident waiting to happen because kids roll down stairs in them.
While Grammie was preaching her Grammie-nurse laws of the land (which are almost always accurate regardless of how much I try to resist them), Papa was chiming in asking her if walkers are outlawed.
Is Walmart now selling black market baby products? That helps explain how they keep their prices so low.
To add insult to injury, the first thing Grammie-nurse #2, aka Nina, said was “kids roll down stairs in those.” And I believe she half-jokingly referred to it as “the death trap” when she saw it.
Sweet, we’re providing deadly toys for our son, and the Grammie’s don’t approve. Thanks Walmart.
Oh well, it was already paid for and on the way. Hope Little Dude is tough.
Can’t wait to hear the I told you so’s when he rolls off the cliff we let him play on.
Just like many other New Years Eve celebrations, the Dude house rang in 2011 with copious amounts of vomit. Unfortunately, we didn’t enjoy any of the benefits of overindulgence that usually accompany New Years revelry.
The Dude and The Princess rang in the New Year with our heads in the toilet thanks to a tummy bug that stowed away in our luggage from The Lady in a Shoe’s house. Mrs. Shoe’s house not only incubates chaos, but also germs. As a result, Casa de Dude resembled, and smelled like, a frat house as the ball dropped.
Thankfully, Mrs. Dude and Little Dude have escaped the bug so far. And a big thanks goes out to the Mrs. for working into the wee hours of the morning taking care of the sickies (and the infant).
Thanks again for a great visit Lady in a Shoe. However, in the future, please make sure your germs pass through customs before following us home.
The good news is that starting from the toilet, 2011 has no where to go but up. Here’s to a great 2011!
Seems like most aspects of life move in some sort of cyclical pattern. For example, we arrive in diapers, and most of us will exit in diapers.
Christmas is no exception. As a kid, Christmas is a pretty special time. I’m sure a lot of that has to do with getting “things” we want, but for the most part, the excitement is just the joy of the experience. Weeks on end of Christmas specials, holiday cookies, talk of Santa, time off from school, plans to be with family. It’s a time when the world seems to slow, and kids are at the center of the excitement.
At some point, life grinds you down, and eventually some of the Christmas magic wears off. Bachelor Dude often questioned the jolly holiday. A large dose of religious dogma mixed with an extreme helping of consumerism seems like a dangerous recipe. But kids make those questions seem irrelevant.
Nothing warms the heart of a parent like seeing their children filled with happiness, and Christmas makes that joy burst out of their little bodies. Parenting is the bridge that brings that Christmas joy back to adults…at least for the Dude it is.
I have to hand it to the Moms of the world though. I’m going to go out on a limb and stereotype a bit here. I’m sure there are a lot of Dads who can fill this roll as well, but from the Dude’s experience, Moms hold Christmas together…and they love every second of it.
Mrs. Dude has been planning and budgeting for months, and it still takes a last minute sprint to finish all of the odds and ends. Odds and ends, mind you, that no Dads the Dude knows could understand and/or execute.
The shopping alone would knock 90% of the Dads out, but then there’s wrapping…oh the wrapping! It never ends. But Moms are totally awesome wrappers…as if it’s in their gene’s…the wrapping gene. Bows, and ribbons, and wrapping paper that fits the person. Dudes buy one roll, try to wrap the first gift, give up half way through and put all the presents in bags with tissue paper piled on top…done.
But for Moms, it goes way beyond just shopping and wrapping…especially when it comes to the big fat guy in the red suit. Based on the stories the Lady in the shoe is sharing about my oldest nephew, we are realizing this could be the last year that the Princess whole-heartedly, unquestionably, without a doubt believes in Santa. The news spreads quickly with those kids at school, and kids aren’t dumb.
Creepy Elf
So Mrs. Dude went all out. We wrote a letter to Santa, The Princess saw Santa at least three times, we got an email video from Santa, we tracked Santa as he flew, we even allowed the creepy Elf on a Shelf to stare creepily at us from random spots in the living room for the last three weeks (I don’t care what anyone says, that Elf is super creepy.).
Jingle Bells
But the icing on the cake was the Santa display Mrs. Dude crafted on Christmas Eve. Stockings hung by the chimney with care, a plate of cookies and carrots that the Dude had to eat, and the coup de grace, the fireplace door cracked slightly with a “jingle bell” strategically placed as if Santa dropped it during a quick exit, and glitter on the hearth! Did you know Santa left a trail of glitter?! Me neither. But he does, and it’s awesome.
Santa's Trail O' Glitter
And The Princess ate up every bit of it. She was so happy, and the happiness is so genuine that she makes everyone around her happy. That’s the power of kids at Christmas, and I’ll trade that happiness for the pragmatic questions any day.
As a result, and despite brief occurrences of the Dude’s bah-humbugness, we had a great Christmas. We had quality time with our extended family (arguably the true meaning of Christmas), ate great food, relaxed, played with new toys, the Dude was able to get a Christmas Day surf session, and to close out the holiday season, we enjoyed one of the best Christmas traditions of all, an annual viewing of Christmas Vacation.
In the immortal words of Clark W. Griswold, from the Dude Family to your’s, we hope you had “the hap, happ, happiest Christmas…”
PS – I’m sure you will all be excited to know that Santa added a cheetah to Little Dude’s zoo!
The knowledge that all accountability falls on squarely on your shoulders can make you question your tactics and the results. Am I doing this correctly? Is there a better strategy? What are the consequences if I fail?
There is no larger responsibility than guiding a young life, and given the rapid pace of development in the early stages, there is no shortage of opportunity for insecurity. Parents usually maintain pretty high standards for themselves, but young ones are much more resilient than we give them credit for. The insecurity is often misguided
But that doesn’t stem the flood of uncertainty.
Is he eating enough? Is he eating too much? Why isn’t he pooping? Why is he pooping so much? Are we causing the reflux? Is he too small? Is his head too big? Is he focusing enough? Why does his hair look like he’s 50?
To add to the insecurity, we go to the doctor’s office where they make random measurements and tell us where our creation stacks up against averages. And inevitably the young one visits with other young ones, and the comparison contest continues.
Ooohhh…she’s doing this and we’re not. He’s this big and we’re only here. If he can do it, should we be able to?
We’ve had a lot of opportunity to compare, and I’d say the first lesson of parenting should be don’t compare….ever.
The Intimidator
In Week Nine I mentioned my newest nephew, Little Dude’s senior by 19 days, The Intimidator. This beast was 20 pounds at birth….ok, maybe not, but he’s a giant…with a Cassey Cassum radio voice! The Intimidator has consistently been in the 95th growth/size percentile compared to Little Dude’s 25th percentile. And in the early stages, 19 days is a large opportunity for development. We’re constantly talking with the Lady in the Shoe about updates on the bambinos. It’s easy to let the mind run wild.
The first instinct is to wonder, question, speculate, but there’s no reason to draw conclusions. Everyone is different. Everyone will develop at a different pace. Sure, it makes sense to have a vague sense of developmental stages and averages, but no need to pay more than a passing glance.
The Intimidator will level out…or The Lady in the Shoe will have a 6 foot 200 pound four year old on her hands. My guess is nature will move towards a happy median.
But that doesn’t stop a Mom and Dad from feeling insecure.
Little Dude was consistently rolling over by Week 15, but here we are at Week 24, and I haven’t seen a roll in at least a month. I’ve heard rumors of a roll here and there, but nothing consistent. He’s not regressing. Just not rolling. As if he’s been there, done that. He’ll do tummy time and just chill, maybe roll onto his side. Then he’s over it and screams. But no roll.
What are we to make of this? Should we be concerned?
We’ve gotten a lot of input, and most don’t seem alarmed. As long as he’s not regressing things are good.
He’s using his legs. He’s trying to sit up. When he’s on his tummy he’s starting to find his knees. He’s starting to eat solid food.
He seems to be progressing. But are we missing something? Or just being insecure parents?
As if on cue, Little Dude gave us the answer today. To celebrate his six month b-day, Little Dude decided to form his first semblance of a two syllable word/sound, and to the Dude’s great honor, he spit out “Dada”… three times!
I wasn’t there to witness it, but Mrs. Dude assures me it was no accident. He was repeating after her directly.
Alright L.D, I hear ya. You’re progressing. No need to worry. I’m giving up my insecurity.
My guess is it could return from time to time, but I’ll try to keep it at bay.
“That Little Dude won’t be happy unless he is flying moch 3 with his hair on fire . . . wow is he a dare devil!
The Wiggles are creepy and so are a lot of other kids shows. Just know that most shows spend time and money researching the learning and entertainment from the kids’ perspective. And enjoy!
PS That is one loved swing – judging from the loks of the pillow…hahaha”
Ah, that Lady in the Shoe, as witty as she is wise. Nice Top Gun quote; touche. And great Wiggles input; gracias. But the point I would like to emphasize is her PS.
“PS That is one loved swing – judging from the loks of the pillow…hahaha”
Well, thanks for pointing out that the swing was looking grungy. Are you picking up on the sarcasm? There’s a little layered in there.
The Shoe Lady’s comment gave me a great reason to crack the whip. Mrs. Dude had to take some advanced engineering classes to figure out how to get the swing off the stand, but Lady in the Shoe, you’ll be happy to know we are no longer sitting our child in filth on a regular basis…not in the swing anyway.
Other than calling us on our lack of hygiene, Lady in the Shoe made an important point. That swing has indeed seen much love over the course of the first 21 weeks of L.D.’s existence.
In fact, it has been the sole slumber zone for all 140 nights leading up to this past week.
Little Dude fell in love with the swing immediately…as in the first night he arrived home. The constant motion put him out quick and kept him out. We’ve settled into a routine where he’s now waking up once a night to eat, but there were plenty of nights early on where he was giving us a full night sleep in that swinging miracle.
However, we received advisory suggestions from multiple sources that mentioned we should have had him out of the swing and in his crib weeks ago. I think the Pediatrician may have been one of those advisory sources. And I think Mrs. Dude may have fibbed about his sleeping locale at the last appointment. Tsk, tsk, tsk.
Well, no worries. The dirty secret (literally and figuratively) has been cleansed from our lives. Little Dude is officially a crib sleeper.
And the best part is he loves it!
We thought it was Little Dude that needed to be in the swing. We thought we would have countless sleepless nights and a cranky little boy when we made the move. We intimidated ourselves into believing that we needed to choose the absolute perfect time to make the transition.
And none of that was accurate. Little Dude took to the change immediately.
What the crib lacks in motion, it more than makes up for in comfy, comfy roominess. Little Dude loves the space to stretch out. He’s now taking all naps, and sleeping full nights in the crib.
So, I guess the lesson for week 21 is don’t stress about changes. Kids will make it work. There may be a few bumps in the road, but no need to wait for the perfect opportunity to change…there’s no such thing as the perfect opportunity.
Well, that, and before you post a picture of your child’s swing on the internet, make sure it’s clean.
