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?!
“I do declare!”
I do declare!
Ridin' Dirty
For those of you not as down with the Hip Hop community as the Dude, ridin’ dirty is slang for:
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.
We’ve past the two month mark. On the the downward slide toward my four month goal.
Look at that beast. The Dude stache is eating my lip! But my chin sure is warm on these chilly winter days.
Winter Beard - 2 Months
Winter Beard Week 2
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
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!
Welcome to the Zoo
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:
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.
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.
Are we a cut-the-crust-off-your-bread type of family?
I’m sure there is great reasoning on both sides of this discussion, but regardless of the decision, this seems like a choice that helps define a family.
Life lessons from bread crust?
I want to make sure my kids have what they need, but I don’t want to be cutting their crust throughout life. Working through a tough crust – nice metaphor for life experiences – can help build character.
I was going to try to make the, crust has more nutrients argument, but the magic of Yahoo Answers demonstrated that this is most likely a myth. So, I think I’ll fall back on the true crux of the issue.
From the Dude’s perspective, cutting the crust off a sandwich adds an extra step for busy parents, and throws the child/parent balance off.
There’s nothing wrong with the crust. A little tough? Sure. But it’s part of the bread. Why would we cut it off?
It seems frivolous, and to meet frivolous desires encourages more frivolous desires. Ok, that sounds a bit extreme.
But the premise seems to fit. We don’t need to create extra work for an everyday event that is unnecessary.
I suggest the complete opposite approach. I can admit the crust is a bit harder to chew, so instead of stressing about it, tackle it first and save the best part for last. That makes the last bite that much better…ah, the soft middle bite that offers the most gooey part of the fluffernutter.
Do we want our kids chasing every frivolous desire, or do we want them tough enough to tackle the tough challenges first so they can enjoy life’s finer points that much more?
Seems like an easy decision to me.
We are a crust-on type of family.
That’s what I thought until I walked into the kitchen this morning.
Mrs. Dude, we need to talk…
Eat the Crust First
The development just keeps on rollin’. Kid won’t stop growing.
Sweet potatoes and bananas so far, but we have all sorts of goodies on the ready.
Cliché? Definitely. Even at five months the thought crosses your mind: “They grow too fast.” As much as I look forward to the next stage, I already miss where we just came from.
I guess it’s the now that matters most anyway.
PS – As you read the title of the post, I’d like to suggest that you have Weird Al singing in your head.
“Have some more yogurt. Have some more spam. It doesn’t matter if it’s fresh or if it’s canned.” Lyrical genius.
Eat It
The Dude has been on hiatus. A fantastic voyage to San Antonio, TX this week set the posting back a bit. Time to catchup. Little Dude developments, the end of Princess’ soccer season, Halloween, a new Dude Knows Best installment, “Princess Pixels”…lots in store to makeup for the time off.
The journey was actually a business trip full of, well, business. While San Antonio is a nice city, given the workload and lack of free time, I wouldn’t really qualify the trip as a fantastic voyage , but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to reference Coolio. (Although I did ride a mechanical bull…including a cowboy hat, sit on a 2k pound bull named Oreo, and visit the Alamo!…sort of fantastic, I guess.)
While I was off gallivanting around the Lone Star state, Mrs. Dude was left on her own for four days to hold down Casa de Dude, manage the dogs, and regulate the rug-rats. Quite the task. Thanks Mrs. Dude. I’m happy to report that everyone survived in one piece.
However, while I may have been on hiatus, Little Dude was not. Gone for four days, and L.D. decides to start feeding himself?! Really Little Dude? You’re going to go and grow up while I’m not here to watch it?! You need to slow your roll. Daddy needs to see this kind of stuff in person.
As much as I can’t wait for him to be older so we can do all sorts of Dude/Little Dude stuff, it’s tough to see this little guy getting so big so quick. I guess life is full of great paradoxes.
Keep on keepin’ on Little Dude.
Fantastic Voyage
Little Dude - Brooke Mayo
An interesting Dude Family fact: The Dude’s Mom, Dad, and Grandma (Mom’s Mom) all share the same birthday. Today.
Bizarre.
Happy Birthday Mom, Dad, & Gram!
As a birthday gift (kind of), here’s a picture of your grand-baby taken by a rad photographer, Brooke Mayo.
My dad graduated with a master’s degree in math. Old school math degree too. They only had a calculator in the library that they all shared to break down ridiculous master’s degree math problems. Nuts. Clearly the man must know some math.
So I asked today what are the odds of all the same b-days. Seems like he should be able to rattle this fact off. He’s known Mama Dukes and Gram from like forty years. Wouldn’t you think that crazy math mind would have to know the answer to this?
All I got in return was: “If there are 20 people in a room the odds that 2 have the same birthday is over 50%.”
Huh?
Did he just give me his math homework? My head hurt trying to figure it out, so I left it alone.
Anyway, of course I got the cards in the mail on time, and I gave each a birthday message today, but I totally redeemed myself on a Skype message with my Dad.
Dude: Happy b-day old man. 🙂 [10:40:11 AM]
Dude’s Padre: Thank you. Mom and I will step out for a nice dinner at Bonefish Grille tonight.
Do you think you know how old mom and I are? [10:40:35 AM]
Dude: How old? Hmmm. I’ve been blessed with a memory like your’s (Dude’s Padre can’t recall where he was an hour ago.), so I’m not sure, but I’ll take a stab.
Mom = 61
Dad = 64
Bingo? [10:48:17 AM]
Dude’s Padre: right on Bucko. [10:48:33 AM]
It’s kind of funny that my Dad and I Skype like we’re stuck in the 1950’s. “Old man?” “Step out?” “Bingo?” “Bucko?” Sounds like a Leave it to Beaver episode.
Anyway, did you see how I totally redeemed myself there? There’s no way he thought I knew their age. And neither did I.
But bingo, I pulled it out. Nice work Dude.
Not sure how I knew that.
Sort of reminds me of…