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Hap, Happ, Happiest Christmas

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Hap, Happ, Happiest

Hap, Happ, Happiest

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

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

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

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!

Welcome to the Zoo

Welcome to the Zoo

Pixels: You Don’t Scare Me

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Santa is a rad dude.  He gives kids great reminders about the meaning of Christmas.  Sure there’s some bribery involved, but the message is clear; be a good person and life will reward you.  Santa also offers kids a great opportunity to enlist their imagination, a tool that improves with practice.

Overall, Santa gets a big Dude thumbs up, but Santa can also be pretty intimidating.  A large dude with a deep voice, giant beard, and bright red outfit.  That’s a lot to take in for little ones.

I can certainly understand some apprehensiveness, but judging by this picture, it’s safe say Little Dude feels pretty comfortable in the giant gift-giver’s paws.

You Don't Scare Me

You Don't Scare Me

* Dude’s Note:  The Daily Pixels have been a bit less than daily, so we’ll switch to “Pixels” until we can live up to the “Daily” moniker.

She’s Artsy

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All Dolled Up for the Nutcracker

All Dolled Up for the Nutcracker

The Princess had the pleasure of attending the Nutcracker ballet over the weekend.  Nina and Rex brought her to the big city to watch the toe spinners.

Here’s a big thank you to Nina and Rex.  Without you I may have been forced to partake in another episode of the torture that many refer to as the Nutcracker.

I’ve been.  I think I was asleep in a bout five minutes.  Just not my thing.  Princess and I will have to bond over other life experiences…perhaps blogging.

But, as we all expected, The Princess fell in love.  Rumor has it that she was on the edge of her seat the entire time, and during a quick moment of silence as the crowd stopped applauding, she let out a spontaneous “woo hoo” that echoed through the theater.

Based on her lack of interest in soccer, and what seems to be a natural inclination towards all things girly, dance seems to be a perfect fit for The Princess.  It’s no surprise the Nutcracker is her jammy jam.

It’s fun to watch interests developing.

So after the ballet, I started to dig into what she liked, and eventually it led to me asking if she would like to be a dancer when she grows up.  The Princess replied with….

“My ribs get tired when I dance.”

Huh?!  For real?!

Your ribs?!  Get tired?!

Can ribs even get tired?

Perhaps physical exertion is not her bag.

At least she’s a good artist.

Week 24: Development

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Week 24: Development

Week 24: Development

Happy 6th month birthday Little Dude.

Responsibility can breed insecurity.

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

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.

We Went to Thanksgiving and…

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Family and holidays go together like turkey and naps.  (Side note, the Thanksgiving Day Nap is arguably the king of all naps.)

However, as life progresses, family dynamics progress as well.

Growing up, big holidays were spent at the Dude’s grandparents.  Birthdays, Easter, and Thanksgiving would shift from time to time, but Christmas Eve was a given.  Twenty five years straight, the Dude sat in the “No-no Room” singing Christmas carols, shaking Santa’s hand, and enjoying the company of the extended family.

Then life happened.

Changes in location, changes in career paths, and ultimately, changes in family life brought the Christmas streak to an end a few years ago.  Now it’s a struggle to make one holiday with the extended family, never mind a prolonged streak.

Mix in the complexity of alternating holidays between Dude and Mrs. Dude’s families, plus factoring in siblings and their in-laws, and determining a satisfactory holiday schedule is nothing short of a miracle.

As families grow and life marches on, priorities adjust.  The family focus that helped create my identity is shifting.  I have great holiday memories of family dropping their everyday concerns and coming together to strengthen bonds that have developed over generations.  Mrs. Dude and I now have the opportunity to create these memories for our kids.  But roles are chaning.  My parents are now the Grandparents that can’t say “no.”  My sister and brother-in-law are now the fun aunt and uncle.  And so on.

And while priorities change, the definition of family remains constant.  The bond that families share, and strengthen by coming together to celebrate life and the company of loved ones, is not sacrificed.  It’s fortified.  A new generation is added to the familial chain.  The bonds passed through the ancestry are extended once again.

While we can’t always share the holidays with each and every member of our family, the love persists.  The pride and comfort of knowing who we are and where we came from carry on, and more importantly, are shared with new faces.

Happy holidays from the Dude Family to our family and friends.  You may not be in our direct line of vision, but you’ll always remain in our hearts. We are very thankful to have you in our lives.

So, with that prelude complete…

We hit the road last Wednesday in search of some turkey.  We’re alternating Thanksgiving and Christmas between Dude and Mrs. Dude’s families, and this year was a Dude Turkey Day.  We went to stay with The Lady in the Shoe (as in “the lady in the shoe had so many kids she didn’t know what to do”), aka the Dude’s sister, and we had a blast.  Lots of great food, wine, football, jokes, and time spent with the ones we love.

We went to Thanksgiving and…

I learned a few things:

  1. My mother will sleep on a pull out couch in the middle of the house knowing there are two infants getting up throughout the night and four other kids up by 7:00 AM, and then she’ll change every diaper, run every bath, change every outfit, read every book, draw every picture, put the babies down for naps, with zero naps for herself, and bring four pies to Thanksgiving dinner…all to spend every waking moment with her grandkids.  In all fairness, Papa Dude does most of this as well, but that Grandma motivation is hard to duplicate.  I guess I’ve always known this, but it’s still impressive to witness.
  2. Despite that fact that The Lady in the Shoe has four kids under 6 pooping in one house and a mountain of diaper experience, she made the bold statement that Little Dude’s poop is the stinkiest she has ever smelled!  Can you believe that?  Could this be?Given the wretched smell of the formula we use for his reflux, and the nasty stench of the spit up, I suppose I can believe it.  But I wasn’t expecting this.  I just assumed that horrible odor was  natural for babies on formula.  I guess I’m pleased to know it’s not normal to smell that bad, but the downside is that we now have the stinky kid.
  3. Lastly, I learned that my Dad is crazy enough to sincerely ask the clerk at The Dollar Tree how much items cost!  And, according to everyone at the festivities, I’m just like my Dad.  Mrs. Dude, get ready for some absurd quirkiness as we grow old together.

But most importantly, we went to Thanksgiving and…

A rave/dance-fight broke out!

This video pretty much sums up the chaos that 6 kids under 6 can create when bottled up in one house.

Jazz Mechanic

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A nondescript building with no signage.  A yard filled with vehicles in various stages of disrepair…almost surrounding the building.  Two large garage doors wide open.  One car raised on the lift in the left-hand garage bay.  Miles Davis pouring through the open 15 foot doors at decibels you might expect from an outdoor concert.  And in the right bay?  A man in blue Dickies jamming to his hourly “dance break.”

A good, trustworthy, mechanic is as rare as an honest politician.

The Dude has given up on the political process.  But the necessity of transportation, and the Dude’s lack of mechanical knowledge, requires some form of Dude/mechanic relationship.

Luckily, I’ve had the good fortune of marrying into a mechanic family.  The Jazz Mechanic described above is Mrs. Dude’s padre, aka Rex, and not only does he know his way around a vehicle, but he loves his family enough to extend a family discount.

Trustworthy and an amazing deal!?

Unreal.  Gracias Rex.

Knowing that your car is running well, and you weren’t cheated, is a great relief.  But the true joys in life are the little things.

As I’ve mentioned, I love our minivan.  Mrs. Dude is still somewhat skeptical, but I dig it.  And for all the haters, we’ve got a captain’s hat and a mini machine gun to let them know we are legit minivaners.

But now, we’ve taken it to the next level.

The yacht rolls into the Jazz Mechanic for some new brakes, and it comes back stopping on a dime and rocking this…

Jazz Mechanic

Jazz Mechanic

Sweet surprise Jazz Mechanic.

That’s the browning logo.  I’ve never hunted a day in my life, but we now have multiple references to firearms on the family truckster.    Don’t underestimate the minivan.

Daily Pixels: Graffiti

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Art is in the eye of the beholder.

Based on the legal status of graffiti, I’d venture to say the general public is not a fan.

I’ll admit that there’s a large percentage of graffiti that’s unsightly, but on the whole, the Dude and the Mrs. fall into the fan category.

It’s great to see a landscape broken by an unexpected burst of art.  I dig a colorful explosion, even if it’s illegible like many graffiti pieces.  But the Dude has a soft-spot for a little vandalism with a twist of social commentary, like Banksy.

Banksy - Flowers for the Princess?

Banksy - Flowers for the Princess?

Banksy - TSA?

Banksy - TSA?

However, I’ve never been on the receiving end of graffiti…until yesterday.

A few weeks ago, I mentioned that Rex and I spent 12+ hours building a new set of front stairs.  Back breaking work.

And yesterday, these new stairs were vandalized!

But if it’s great art, with a great message, should the graffiti be considered a gift?

The next Banksy?

Next Banksy?

Daily Pixels: Winter Beard

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It’s officially Fall.  We’re past the day of candy begging.  It’s dark at 5PM these days.  A wet suit is a must for getting in the ocean.  And Turkey Day is less than two weeks away.

This can only mean one thing.  Time for the Winter Beard.

We are currently in the first stages of the Winter Beard.  It’s only been about two weeks (Oct. 30th), but I know it’s on the right track.

I stopped by the supermarket with Little Dude yesterday.  I wandered around the store with L.D. in the Bjorn, and we got all sorts of looks.  Perhaps it was L.D.’s cuteness that was overwhelming the passersby, but to the Dude, the looks had more of a strange than cute feel to them.  Given the beard and the Bjorn, perhaps our appearance conjured up memories of The Hangover.

Welcome back Winter Beard.  We’ve missed you.

My goal is for four months of growth.  A third of the year!…awesome!  We’ll see if my face, my employer, and Mrs. Dude can handle it.  Bring on the awesomeness.

Winter Beard

Week 21 – Dirty Secret

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Dirty Secret

Dirty Secret

Last week, in response to the post about Little Dude’s acrobatics, Lady in the Shoe left the following comment:

“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.