Category Archives: Dude Knows Best

Week 17: Occupational Hazards

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Occupational Hazards

Occupational Hazards

“Does he smell?” As she holds his ass in the air.

And the Dude’s first reaction is to lean over for  a sniff!?  “Nope.”

Later the same day, as I dozed off on the couch for an afternoon siesta, Mrs. Dude asked if a sleeping Little Dude could lay with me.  Of course the answer was yes.  As she laid him on my chest, we realized the turd had definitely escaped.

But he’s sleeping.  We knew we were safer if we let him sleep.  So The Boy and his dirty diaper dozed with me for a half hour.

Occupational hazards I guess.

Make no mistake about it, parenting is an occupation.  But an occupation unlike any other.  I’m still new at this game; I’m sure Mr. Huxtable could drop some parenting knowledge on me, but from what I gather, there is a lot of hard work and a lot of sacrifice.

Can you think of any other job you would volunteer to be on call 24/7 for zero pay (actually pay them to work…I think the average kid costs like a bazillion dollars these days.)?  And sniff butts and nap with a dirty diaper?  I think not.

Some jobs run the risk of carpal tunnel.  Parenting runs the risk of no sleep and stank butts.

On the flip side, the obvious response is that the rewards of watching your kids grow up are priceless.  No argument there.

But the effort involved is somewhat priceless too.  It’s tough to find the same dedication a parent is willing offer.

Week 17 brought on a battle with the Hands, Foot, and Mouth virus.  7+ days of cranking.

Since Little Dude is already fighting through reflux, we didn’t realize the cranking could be HFM until some hives arrived.  We confirmed it at the doctor the next day.

Reflux and HFM lead to a worn out Little Guy.  He handled it all pretty well, but the true champion is Mrs. Dude.  A worn out kid leads to a worn out parent…someone needs to pick up the slack.

Parenting in general is an occupation full of hazards, but an at-home mom is like pulling double-shifts every day…for years.  No time off, no personal space, 100% attention on someone else’s well-being.

Thanks for all of the hard work Mrs. Dude.  You’re an amazing Mom.

Week 15 – Time for a Trim

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Little Dude's 1st Trim

Little Dude's 1st Trim

Some babies don’t have hair by week 15.  Little Dude, time for the first haircut.

Little Dude popped out with a full head of hair.  Which is a bit startling considering the Dude’s dome is hairless.

I was begging Mrs. Dude on day one to let me shave a legit mohawk.  How outrageous would a one week old with a mohawak be?!  Grandmas would be fainting.  Hilarious.

Unfortunately, Mrs. Dude wasn’t having it. 

But, Mother Nature was on the Dude’s side.  Over the course of the first 15 weeks, Little Dude’s gorgeous coif was slowly reduced to old man hair.

Last night, Mrs. Dude said she was ready for the trim, and the rest is history…

Zen and the Art of Parenting

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Zen and the Art of Parenting

Zen and the Art of Parenting

Zen and the Art of Parenting

It’s 2010.  We have women’s suffrage.  Women have broken through the “glass ceiling” in corporations worldwide.  I read the other day that for the first time, more women are now graduating with PhD’s than men!

Women have made huge strides in equality, but from where I sit, Mom’s still keep the house together.  I think it’s an instinctual ability.

When Dad  steps in on a solo mission, there’s always a chance for a little craziness.  The mission will be accomplished, but it’s never quite as smooth as when Mom handles it.

Tuesday offered a good test.  The Princess had her first dance class, followed by soccer practice numero dos, and Mrs. Dude had her first photography class.  It was a busy day.  Tuesdays will be busy for a few weeks.  If you do the math, this leaves the Dude managing all parental tasks including to and from soccer, dinner, bath, bed…sans Mrs. Dude.

Solo parenting is tough.  There are a lot of challenges managing multiple little lives.

Parenting definitely creates an environment conducive to increased levels of stress.  Opportunities to worry.  Reasons for frustration.

But, it also gives us a catalyst to focus on the moment we’re living in.   Worrying and/or getting  frustrated with kids makes the situation that much more difficult to handle.  Kids sense emotions and energy, and when the energy is off, kids tend to shut down.

It’s an interesting task running a solo mission and trying to balance peace and tranquility with the hurdles along the way.

Ever heard of the book Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance?  It grabs my attention every time I see it at a bookstore.  I’ve never read it.  I don’t have a motorcycle.

But, based on assumptions I’m making solely from the title, I think parenting offers similar opportunities to motorcycle maintenance.  Parenting is stressful, but we have a choice between letting stress get to us or going with the flow.

I’m no Zen scholar, but my loose understanding could be summed up with the phrase “going with the flow.”

So, Zen and the Art of Parenting.

I approached this solo mission as most dads would, blindly.  I didn’t give it much thought.  See, dads tend to stumble our way through things.  Like that whole not asking for directions stereotype…it’s a stereotype for a reason.

I planned to leave work a little early, pick up the kids, and hit the road.  Shouldn’t be more to it than that.

Except, he’s hungry and his milk supply is leaving to learn how to snap pictures, so it’s bottle time, it’s getting chilly so he needs to change, might as well change the diaper, make sure the diaper bag has all of the necessities, Princess needs to get dressed, she needs to find her cleats and shin guards…and put them on, she needs a water bottle, and the dogs should probably go out.

Ok.  Not quite as easy as pick up the kids and hit the road.  Thankfully Mommy was there to offer these suggestions prior to me leaving the house with a hungry, underdressed baby, and a soccer player without her gear.

To test my stress levels, these instances always seem to stretch to the last second of available time.  So, we’re rushing out the door.  But there’s really no rushing with a five year old and a 3 month old.  Life just moves at a slower pace.

I realized this as we meandered to the car, and I decided to move slower but more deliberately.  Give myself time to make decisive actions, and ultimately move at the pace kids move.  But more importantly, I was focusing on the task at hand…the present moment.  I was moving slower, but I was more efficient with my actions.

We pile in, and Little Dude starts to wail before we’re out of the driveway.  He’s been doing this in his seat lately.  Not a big fan of being locked down.  But we didn’t have time for consoling.

We hit the road, and I reached behind me trying to soothe him.  Yeah, not the safest idea, but a screaming baby requires a bit of risk taking.

As I pull to a three-way stop in the neighborhood, I let the car to my right and the car across from me go before me.  Both slightly beat me to the intersection.  Once they passed, I made my way through the intersection, and some dude decided he was playing the role of Citizen Patrol and yelled “Nice stop!” at me.

I’m still reaching back trying to soothe a screaming baby.  The windows are down, so he should be able to see this.  This seems like a situation where regardless of a minor traffic infraction, you should probably give the driver the benefit of the doubt.

Plus, I did stop!  I let two people go!  Perhaps I was rolling slightly, but it was a stop.

It seems like these types of situations always happen at the most inopportune time.  A perfect opportunity for me to lose it.  But before any words could pass over my lips, my mind jumped back in and reminded me slow down.  Getting upset isn’t going to make this trip any easier.

In a minute or so I was passed it, but Little Dude was not past his screaming.  I pulled over and was able to calmly tuck some blankets around him, and he was asleep in seconds.  If I had been mad, that stop would not have been that easy.

Zen and the Art of Parenting

Zen and the Art of Parenting

Eventually we made it to the parking lot.  As I’m wrestling with the Bjorn, the pacifier bounces out of his blankets and rolls under the car.  At this point I’m relaxing into things, and rather than letting that be the straw that breaks my will, I recruit The Princess, and she crawls under to grab it.

We roll into practice a couple minutes late, but we are all in good spirits, and we didn’t miss much.

Mission accomplished.

Well, except that whole dinner, bath, bed thing.  But the kids were great, and I was practicing my Zen and the Art of Parenting, and we were good to go.  Whatever minor hurdles we encountered along the way we easily surmounted.

And the reward for a job well done, other than the opportunity to practice a little Zen, is a hug and kiss goodnight from a princess and  some Dude/Little Dude bonding time with lots of silly voices, tickles, smiles, and a five second lock of the eyes where it was clear connections were being made.

My boy is starting to realize who his Daddy is.  Glad I was in the Zen frame of mind to enjoy the moment…well, five seconds anyway.

Week 12 – Groovin’

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The Boy is three months old this week.

Time flies.

Week 12 has been pretty much status quo.  We’re getting back into the flow after a short vacation and the hurricane, so just settling back into routines.

Groovin’ right along.

This picture elicits an immediate smile from the Dude.

Little Dude

Little Dude

As does this song.

Week 11 – Hopscotch & Hurricanes

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Hopscotch & Hurricanes

Hopscotch & Hurricanes

Life is full of decisions.  Infinite decisions with infinite possibilities.  Unique moments that shape our individual lives.

But more importantly, our decisions help shape the lives of those we share our days with.

As the dude of the house, my decisions will help mold the lives of the little ones that, by default, have to deal with me on an everyday basis.  I’ll have plenty of opportunities to embarrass with my decision making, and I’ll have ample opportunity to nudge them in the direction that seems most prudent according to my sensibilities.  Every decision won’t carry the same weight, but each choice offers the opportunity to create.  Create fun.  Create love. Create manors, and caring, and comfort, and trust.  Or our decisions can create the negative yin to this positive yang.

Mistakes are inevitable, but the Dude’s goal is to make every attempt possible to create some positive yang for the brood to embrace.

When was the last time you played hopscotch?  Are there rules?  Or is it like Monopoly where every family has house rules?

The Dude and The Princess decided to enjoy an afternoon of hopscotching.

I think the Princess saw it at school.  I’m a sucker for games that require hopping on one foot, so when she asked, I was all in.

I’m not sure if I’ve ever actually played hopscotch according to a set of rules, so I decided to take a quick spin through Google.  After consulting the most accurate online source of information, obviously Wikipedia, I was saddled with some rules and headed outside with The Princess toting a collection of rainbow colored chalk.

With a loose grip on childhood memories and the aid of the fat orange chalk, the Dude was able to reconstruct the layout of a hopscotch board on the driveway.  Numbered one through 6, with one spot for a double jump and a free landing zone at the top, we got down to business.

I began to recite the rules, and The Princess commenced the hopping as the first words passed over my lips.  I stumbled through the set of rules, as The Princess lurched on one foot from one number to the next, landed a perfect double jump, spun like a ballerina in the free zone, wobbled and regained her balance bending to pick up the marker, and finished out of breath at my feet.

My old man brain was having a difficult time recalling the rules I consumed two minutes prior. It’s safe to say that five year old squash wasn’t executing a flawless hopscotch routine and taking in the rules at the same time.

Ah ha, an opportunity for fatherly decision making.  What to do now?  Should the Dude stick to the rules and slow the hopscotching to make sure The Princess understands the regulations?  I guess there’s some merit to this decision; there’s something to be said for following directions, especially when making the attempt to create a competitive environment.  And The Princess is reaching the age of competition; Tai Kwan Do just ended, and soccer and dance will begin in the next couple weeks.  Rules and directions will be important.

But how important are rules?  Aren’t they meant to be broken?  Don’t we all bend them to some degree?  Should a five year old’s creativity and enjoyment be hampered by an arbitrary set of rules?

My guess is you know the decision that was made.

We followed the rules The Princess created on the fly and worked up a sweat hopping on one foot, while laughing and ignoring the guidelines bestowed by the all-knowing Wikipedia.

And for all you hopscotch novices, like the Dude, it’s more tiring than you expect.  If I’m sore in the morning from our new activity, I will be severely disappointed with this aging process.

Luckily, The Princess’ span of attention is about as short as the Dude’s endurance, and we turned from hopping to drawing hearts and flowers pretty quickly.

A minor decision with limited impact on the future.  Then again, who knows.  If one decision leads to another, and the Dude is able to balance on the thin line between complying with and ignoring the rules, perhaps the young ones can be groomed to think for themselves, within reason.  But there are a lot of “if’s” in life.

On the other hand, some decisions are loaded with significance from the get go.

The Dude Family Vacation was cut short this week due to the threat of Mama Nature’s vengence.  Hurricane Earl was groovin’ up the East Coast, and we were in its path.  At its peak, it was a Category 4 storm with winds up to 145 mph.

This would have been a relatively exciting event for bachelor Dude, but family Dude had to look at this from a completely new set of decisions.  Rather than determining how much beer to get to witness Mother Nature’s wrath, the Dude and the Mrs. had to consider escape routes and whether to outrun the storm.  With kids involved, especially an 11 week old, how much danger can we expose them to?

Sure, hurricanes are unpredictable, and it could be a non-event, but hurricanes are unpredictable, so the flip side is that it could be a significant event.

Seems like a no-brainer.  145 mph winds = kids need to hit the road.  But every decision is fraught with multiple angles to consider.

  • The predicted path of the hurricane does not have it on a direct collision course.  How fast will the winds actually be?
  • Will the hurricane slow on its own?  Move out to sea?
  • Does the Captain go down with the ship?  Shouldn’t someone be here to look after the house and our limited belongings?
  • The Dude’s employment is somewhat hinged on providing support during a natural event.
  • It’s never a good time to be displaced, especially if the entire family isn’t together.
  • How long could the displacement last?
  • What risks need to be considered?

The Dude and the Mrs. hemmed and hawed until the last minute, but in the end, Mrs. Dude and the kiddos hit the road to stay with a cousin, and the Dude and the dogs held down the fort.

Hurricane Earl began to slow and stayed out to sea, so it was a relatively uneventful storm, but at just 80 miles off the coast, it was a nail-biter up to the end.  While relatively low, the winds and rain were still pretty intense, confirming the assumption that 145 mph would be outright destruction.

Never fun to be apart, but we made the right choice.  When Mrs. Dude’s motherly instincts speak up, it’s imperative for us to listen, even when it’s a tough decision.

I have faith that the Dude and the Mrs. can handle almost anything the world throws our way.  And statistically, they were probably in more danger driving in a car than facing the hurricane.  But it’s our job create with our decisions, and given the choice to create safety and comfort or the possibility of fear and mayhem, the choice seems obvious.  We need to craft environments of safety that build trust.

At some age, a hurricane experience is probably worthwhile.  (I think I was eight when my parents hunkered the family down in the house to ride out a Category 2 storm.) However, at this point in time, our kids need to enjoy the safety Mom and Dad can provide, not Mother Nature’s yin.

So, I guess the lesson from week 11 is choose wisely.  What do we want to create with our decisions?

Week Nine – Chaos

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Big Eyes

Big Eyes

Six kids.  One roof.

8 weeks, 11 weeks, 2, 4, 5, and 6 years.

There is no way to describe week nine other than chaos.  Pure, unadulterated chaos.

We had the pleasure of my sister and the kids visiting from Sunday to Thursday, and included in their luggage is a guaranteed bag o’ chaos.

As a primo example, towards the close of the first full day of the ruckus, both infants had wails and tears pouring out of them while one brother bit the other, eliciting more screams and tears, and the two year old princess proceeded to pee directly on the bathroom floor (Why?  “Because I like to pee on the floor.”  How do you argue with that logic?).  At the same time.  A complete overload.

To offer one more example, my sister felt it would be a good idea to leave Little Dude and my newest nephew alone with the Dude while the rest of the gaggle went around the corner to play.  “Both are sleeping.  Nothing to worry about.”

Really?  How long do you think that slumber will last once all scent of mommy vacates the building?  Right, long enough for them to be out of screaming distance.

The Intimidator

The Intimidator

I wrestled with two screaming infants for 25 minutes, and I use the term “infant” very loosely.  I can handle Little Dude, and he does resemble an infant.  However, The Intimidator, he is a completely different story.

These infants are nineteen days apart, but on the growth chart they are 75 percentage points apart, 25% to 95%!  Can an infant intimidate a grown man?

Simple answer, yes.  I consider myself a strapping young man (sounds like something my grandmother would say), but this kid had my number for 25 minutes.

It was like wrestling a toddler.  I love the swaddle.  I swaddle Little Dude and put him out in minutes.  The Intimidator kicked out of my tightly constructed swaddle before I could pick him up.  And before he commenced his true scream, I think he laughed at me…in my face.  Then he proceeded to scream with the low radio voice of Cassey Cassum.  I swear this 11 week old baby had a deeper voice than me.

In between my prayers and walking from one end of the house to the other, Little Dude would chime in with his own scream fest.  They fed off each other for 25 minutes.

Right. Chaos.

Chaos tends to have a negative connotation, and these tales seem to lend credence to that negative perspective, but chaos isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Chaos theory is an intriguing school of thought that weaves an intricate mosaic of mathematics, physics, economics and philosophy to develop a theory of behavior for dynamic systems that are highly sensitive to seemingly insignificant conditions  I.E. the “butterfly effect,” where the flapping of a butterfly’s wings in Africa is theorized to make a considerable impact in the development of weather conditions across the globe.

This understanding of chaos can hardly be considered negative.  It draws a  complicated network of connections from the irrelevant to the significant.  It brings an intense focus to average events.  It forces us to live in the “now,” and pay attention to the variety of stimulus and activity occurring around us at all times.  The majority of spiritual practices seem to point towards this same focus.  Hardly negative.

Otherwise, if we neglect to appreciate the mundane, minor actions will have much larger, potentially detrimental, effects.

That’s right, I just tied mathematics, physics, economics, philosophy, spirituality, and parenting together under a single theory.  That adds a lot more importance to week nine.

But, it makes sense.  With six kids running around, every action becomes important.  Every decision plays a role in how the next decision will play out.

Technically, this is true for every decision we ever make, but life with six kids is far less forgiving than “normal life.”  Every decision needs to be executed to perfection or you’ll pay the price, which is usually a crying, diaper filled baby that can’t be calmed or an explosion of glitter that covers the floor like Times Square on January 1.  Either one not the end of the world, but definite speed bumps that lead to increased chaos with six rug rats running the show.

“Living in the now,” and “going with the flow” become necessary requirements.  As The Dude wisely bestowed in The Big Lebowski, the Dude abides.

Abiding is the only way to survive in chaos.

Unfortunately, this is easier said than done.

The population at Casa de Dude consisted of six kids, the Dude and the Mrs., my sister, and her au pair.  My brother-in-law stayed home to work (Wink, wink.  You’re welcome for the vacation), so the Dude was the sole hombre of the casa.

This is a tough line to walk.  Dude of the house, fun uncle, and peaceful warrior abiding every minor step of the way.  Is it possible to maintain such a focus?…without an elevated level of stress?

Mrs. Dude thinks I’m a different person when the chaos ensues.  She’s probably right.  Maintaining an increased level of alertness requires a different frame of mind.  But with practice, stress dissipates and relaxation grows.

I tend to handle the chaos of two better than the chaos of six, but the exposure is developing my tolerance.  I watch my sister’s level of calm patience with every minor explosion, and I realize how much she is controlling the chaos.  If she allowed her butterfly wings to flutter aggressively with every tiny issue, the chaos would be pushed down the road of destruction rather than fun very quickly.

This tolerance takes time to develop, but it’s great to feel the calluses of parenting growing on the fabric of the Dude’s daily existence.  This tolerance and attention to detail are great habits to develop.  They will pay dividends as the kids grow…and as we visit with family more and more.

Little Dude embraced this attitude throughout week nine.  He has shown an increased level of peace and tranquility.  He handled six kids without any increased level of stress.

Although, he did get his two month vaccinations on Friday which led to the need for increased comforting for a couple days, but the peace and tranquility seem to be habits that are sticking around.  I guess the Dude has a lot to learn from Little Dude too.

Week Eight – Celebrate Good Times

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Short and Sweet.

Little Dude enjoyed his first wedding this weekend.  He slept through most of the celebrating, but he sure did enjoy the music and dancing.

Including the newest family tradition on Mrs. Dude’s side, requesting It’s Gettin’ Hot in Here and proceeding to follow Nelly’s directions to “take off all your clothes.”  Obviously this is the hit of the party…thanks Rex!

Gettin' Hot in HereAlthough, the hit of the night for the Dude was a simple introduction that moved from “Hi, my name is…” to “Sorry I wasn’t at Thanksgiving last year.  I was in jail.”  Classic.  Trying to maintain a straight face, the Dude followed up with “It happens,” and walked off giggling like The Princess.

I need to keep this short because after the wedding we met up with the Dude’s sister’s family, and they joined us back at Casa de Dude for an extended visit.  The Dude’s sister’s family consists of four kids from six years to 11 weeks, and in conjunction with our little ones, this lunacy is now overrunning the house.

It’s been quiet for the past five minutes, so I’ve had a chance to breathe, but the silence scares me.  I need to go look each one in the eyes to make sure they aren’t planning a mutiny.

As for Little Dude’s progress, wow, we truly are celebrating good times.  Week eight has brought on a dramatic adjustment.  He can relax and enjoy himself much more this week, and we are enjoying every second of our time with this smiling happy boy.

Smiley

Smiley

Week Seven – Promise

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Sweet Chucks

Sweet Chucks

Promise as defined by Merriam Webster Dictionary is:

1 : a declaration that one will do or refrain from doing something specified

2 : reason to expect something; especially : ground for expectation of success, improvement, or excellence

Promise is a heavy word.  Full of strong connotations; commitment, trust, dedication, honor,  hope, optimism.  And the Dude can dig it.

Promise holds a strong significance at Casa de Dude.  We don’t live by too many rules.  Sure, rules are created on the fly all the time; “Don’t cover your room with glitter.” Or “Don’t draw hearts on furniture.”  But those don’t feel like real life rules.  They feel more like reminders.  There’s really only one consistent rule around our house, and it centers around a promise.

The essence of a promise is commitment.  The knowledge that all parties making and accepting the promise understand the pledge is not to be broken.  Yes, promises and contracts are broken all the time…disagreements keep lawyers employed.  But within a family, promises hold a special weight.  A level of commitment beyond the average contract.  A trust sealed with unconditional love.

The one rule in our house is:  We never break a promise.

This one rule sets the true “rules” apart from friendly reminders.  And The Princess does an amazing job of differentiating between the two.

Kids are kids, they aren’t going to follow every rule, nor does the Dude’s constant reminder to “question authority” imply they should.  Dirt will be played in just after a bath is taken, the scooter will be crashed into the wall despite pleas to cease and desist, and rooms will be messy even though the clutter makes the Dude’s skin crawl.

But some rules are nonnegotiable; “Do not go in the water without an adult.” Or  “Do not use Little Dude’s head to practice Tae Kwan Do.”  When opportunities arise  to apply a nonnegotiable, a promise is in order.  And to close out an official rule discussion, the Dude generally ends with “And what’s the rule about a promise?” which the Princess promptly replies with “We never break a promise.”  At this point, I know I can walk away without the slightest glance back to ensure the Princess is following the guidance bestowed upon her.  She understands the weight of the promise.  Hopefully we can say the same at 16.

In addition to a solemn oath, promise can imply the “expectation of success, improvement, or excellence.”

The movie Beautiful Girls has a great quote that explains the fundamental nature of promise.  I don’t remember the movie much, but I recall thinking it was pretty good…plus, the dude in the scene is wearing a Celtics jacket, so it’s gotta be decent (and the dude with the quote was in Dazed and Confused, which again lends credence to this movie…somehow).  At any rate, the quote is great…

Fits like a glove.  The quote is a perfect description of the thoughts flowing through the Dude’s head when Mrs. Dude graced his path.  And the premise of the quote fits perfectly with kids.  “Bottled promise.”  Perfect description.

Week seven falls into this category.

It was not a week without challenges, but the bigger picture is bright.  Feelings of contentment and hope rather than seeking answers to the riddle that is an infant.

Little Dude is growing and self-regulating.  Digestion is improving.  Sleep is improving.  Crankiness is improving.  Acid Reflux is improving.  Smiles are multiplying.  Coos are developing.  Life is good.

The weekend was the perfect cap on week seven.

Mrs. Dude started back at work on Saturday.  Two days per week.  This left the Dude with the kiddos and bottles of milk for the first time.

An at-home parent has a lot to juggle.  I was up at 7:30 and didn’t eat breakfast until 11:00.  Lots of balls in the air, but everyone was in a great mood, and the hours sped past.

By the time late afternoon rolled around, Mrs. Dude was home, there were no serious injuries, and the Dude was kickin’ it in the backyard watering the plants and enjoying a great early August evening; light breeze, warm air, problems stripped away by the carelessness of summer.

To culminate an already storybook weekend, Tropical Storm Colin moved up the Atlantic far off shore but close enough to send fun waves just in time for the Dude to make a solitary escape to the beach.

Ideal.

Full of promise.

Life, please promise more…much more, of the same.

What’s the rule about promises?

We never break a promise.

I’m holding you to it.

Week Six – Firsts

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Snoozing

Snoozing

Life is full of firsts.  Firsts continue from day 1 to the end.  I’m sure my Grandfather never realized we’d all be experiencing “Tweets” on regular basis.  Not that he knows what a Tweet is, or email, but you get the point; we all have the potential to experience firsts until our last day.

Like every aspect of an infant’s life, firsts are intensified.  Infants experience firsts at a breakneck pace.  Everything is new to them.  And new parents love to point out the firsts; first giggle, first hang nail, first poop on a Tuesday when it’s raining, etc.

The Dude and the Mrs. fall into the exuberant category when it comes to Little Dude’s firsts.  We often comment to each other about silly firsts, but this week held some significant firsts…from the Dude’s perspective anyway.

  1. First shower with Daddy.  A short but sweet shower to close out the day and put a smile on Little Dude’s face…he digs the water.
  2. First nap on Daddy’s chest.  Up to this point, Little Dude had a hard time getting comfortable and staying still long enough to nap with the Dude, but the bonding is getting stronger and Little Dude’s calm periods are extending…hopefully.
  3. Mower

    Mower

    First time mowing the lawn with Daddy.  I have a rad new (old, but new to me) “reel” mower (think 1950’s-style push mower) that’s lightweight and makes no noise, so Little Dude was able to nap in the front pack while the Dude mowed away.

  4. First trip to the beach.  Saturday offered a relatively cool and overcast day, so we took the opportunity to get Little Dude acclimated to the beach.  His first experience consisted mainly of nursing.  Mrs. Dude wouldn’t let me take him body surfing.
  5. The start of his first Shark Week on Discovery.  The beach and Shark Week are not related in any way.  The Dude likes to think of sharks like unicorns, imaginary…don’t tell the Princess unicorns aren’t real.
  6. First evident quality inherited from the Dude.  Mrs. Dude has some strong genes.  Little Dude is an identical replica of the Mrs. when she was an infant; people have actually mistaken her baby pictures as Little Dude.  It’s been a struggle to find the Dude in The Boy, but not anymore.  Mrs. Dude declared this week that Little Dude has the Dude’s toes!  That’s right, he’s my boy!  Yeah, it’s just toes, and I’m kind of thinking the Mrs. was just being nice, but I’ll take it.

Crankiness Update:

Acid reflux was confirmed this week, and we got an increased dose of medicine.  Mrs. Dude also cut out any food with taste from her diet to be safe.  Thankfully, these adjustments seem to be working…for now.  The acid reflux symptoms have decreased quite a bit.  Notice, I did not say the crankiness has decreased.

In the ever-changing landscape of an infant, another crankiness source arrived on the scene.  Could The Boy be hungry?  He’s eating almost every two hours, but this week, the “I need food now” cry has increased in frequency and intensity.

We decided to do a little experiment.  Mrs. Dude pumped while I fed Little Dude a 4 oz. bottle.  He downed the bottle in about 20 minutes, and passed out for four hours.  Mrs. Dude was only able to pump 2 oz.  This isn’t a definitive answer.  He may get more when he nurses, and it’s only one test, but it does show interesting results.  Could it be that he’s not eating enough?

He’s gaining weight faster than expected, so clearly he’s eating.  Perhaps a growth spurt this week?  We are going to try to work in some additional pumping in an attempt to increase the milk supply and build some more reserves (and by “we” I mean Mrs. Dude…thanks Mommy), and keep an eye out for the hungry symptoms.

We’ll see what excitement week seven brings.

Week Five – Change

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What a smile?!“The only constant is change.”

It’s difficult to find the precise source of this quote, but after extensive research (i.e. five minutes on Wikipedia), I’ve decided to give credit to Heraclitus, a Greek philosopher…mainly because he’s a really old dude (c.535 BC – 475 BC).

This is about as close to “fact” as you can get; as such it is a widely understood and accepted saying…almost common sense.  Hence the difficulty finding the precise source.

I think the idea of change as a constant may be referred to as entropy in physics, but I’m all researched out now, so I’ll let The Professor (aka Little Bill, Papa, Dude’s Padre) correct me in the comments section if need be.

We all work every day to maintain the great aspects of our life and change those aspects that need some improvements…or at least we should be working hard at this every day.  But, in the  end, change will win; we can only prolong the inevitable.  Nature will take its course and change will prevail.

This should not imply that we should commit any less effort to maintaining what we love; that’s arguably the most important thing we can do in life.  But we should be able to accept change as a fact of life…perhaps even use change to our advantage.

For a short life span of five weeks, change is intensified.  20% of the Dude’s life is 6.6 years.  Change across that period is relatively mild.  The Little Dude on the other hand is in hyper drive; 20% of his life was spent last week.  Change across this period is pretty intense…for child and parents.

We ended week four with what appeared to be a mysterious choking episode for Little Dude.  I could have noted this in last week’s Lessons, but I really didn’t know what to make of it so I left it out.

The plot thickened in week five, and with some added information, the “choking” is now seen in a clearer light.

Last Saturday, Little Dude was sleeping in his swing (five feet from us) while the Dude and Mrs. Dude half watched tv and half watched The Boy.  About 45 minutes into his slumber, he woke up with a loud screech and then went silent immediately.  Mrs. Dude noticed that the air flow seemed to stop and jumped up to scoop him out of the swing.  The Dude, being a Dude, was a bit more slow to react, but the level of distress was clear in Mrs. Dude’s face (her Mommy Senses kicked in quickly!), and she was a bit frozen with Little Dude in her hands, so I grabbed him, flipped him over and began to pat his back.  With a whimper, the breathing was back in probably 30 seconds, but it was an intense 30 seconds, and there was no breath and no noise during that time…an eerie silence.

There was no way he choked on anything.  Nothing in his swing with him, he was in there for 45 minutes, and we were watching the entire time.

It shook us a bit.  We contemplated a visit to the Emergency Room, but Little Dude was immediately back to normal and enjoying his swing; so the Dude, being a Dude, convinced the Mrs. to skip the trip.   But in return, I stayed up and watched Little Dude the entire night to make sure everything was status quo.

I enjoyed some late night yoga to stay awake, and Little Dude slept like, well, a baby.  We switched shifts at the 6:30 AM feeding and kept him on watch the rest of the day.  After the 24 hour surveillance, we felt pretty confident Little Dude was ok.  However, we were still pretty confused by the experience.

Mrs. Dude conducted some further research (luckily her research is a bit more extensive than the Dude’s) down a path mentioned by the Pediatrician, and we are now adding a new variable to our “Poop Rules My Life” theory.  It seems to us that poop and heartburn rule Little Dude’s life.

The Mrs. found this link about an infant “choking” due to acid reflux and this list of acid reflux symptoms.  Not only does the article describe the “choking” episode almost word for word, but the additional symptoms are pretty spot on with The Little One.

Unfortunately, the acid reflux seems to be gaining momentum in week five and the past few days have seen an increase in spit up and some crankiness reminiscent of earlier weeks.  We’ve been using some meds the Dr. gave us “just in case,” but they don’t seem strong enough or The Boy has already outgrown the dose prescribed.  So, back to the Dr. tomorrow.

I’m not sure if we’ve figured out how to use this intense period of change to our advantage just yet, but we are doing our best to accept it and move on to the next curve life throws our way.

Luckily, the Dude and the Little Dude have found a calming mechanism they can both agree on; the vacuum.  My guess is a burned out vacuum could be in our future, but if The Little One is happy, that’s a change I’m willing to accept.

Baby's Best Friend

Baby's Best Friend

PS – Here’s one of my favorite songs about change.  The video is on the strange side, but the song is pretty good…plus, the Dude is a sucker for some good harmonica.