What if the World was Made of Pudding?

Life is full of deep questions.

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.

Seriously, what if the world was made of pudding?

Zen and the Art of Parenting

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.

Life Moves Pretty Fast

Time Moves Pretty Fast

Time Moves Pretty Fast

I can recall being a high school student with the weight of time weighing heavy on my mind.  Days took too long, weeks dragged on, school years felt like an eternity, and “old” was a ridiculously low number…which the Dude has surpassed by now.

But at some point, time shifts.  Out of nowhere, there’s never enough time in a day.  Weeks fly by.  A “school year?”  That’s not even a year!  “Old?”  I’m convinced that’s got to be a state of mind much more so than a number.

Time is a slippery foe.  Too much for the youth, and not enough for the aged.

From a parenting perspective, everyone seems to share the same view; “Kids grow up too fast.”  A cliché?…possibly, but it’s a cliché for a reason…there’s a strong element of truth.  As the wise sage Ferris Bueller once espoused, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

At five weeks, I’ve already uttered “they grow so quick.”  Right, crazy.  But…it’s true.  At five weeks, he’s already grown out of infant diapers and his first stage of clothes.  Not a huge deal, but it’s a sign of what’s to come.  Soon he’ll be sitting up, crawling, walking, running, driving, moving out.

A bit drastic.  But we know what’s ahead.  We’re witnessing the growth potential with the Princess.  She is five going on 16.

Proportionally, the first few years of life have exceptional growth.  From one through three, the rapid growth is apparent through the range of body movements developing; head stays up, sits up, crawls, walks, etc.  At four, life starts to click; concepts and ideas come into view.  By five, they seem like little adults…adults with the potential to spread glitter and perfume throughout the house like Tinkerbelle on a fairy rampage.

This past week, the Princess hit play date and sleepover age.  We’re jumping in with both feet.  First sleepover at a friend’s house, a play date at Casa de Dude, and the first sleepover here all in one week.  Adjusting to a five week old and taking in some rouge kids at the same time.  Great idea.

The Princess has relished this new found freedom.  The independence is palpable.  But with every autonomous act, comes a brilliantly orchestrated feat that could only be the product of the five year old mind.  Each time the five year old shows itself, I’m reminded to enjoy Now.  Moments lead to hours, days, weeks, and years.  Time moves fast.

Play dates and sleepovers are a big step.  Increased independence, new social interactions.  The Girl is on the fast track to adulthood.

However, the idea of a play date is much more grown up than the act of a play date.  The majority of a five year old play date consists of moving toys from one location to another.  It starts by pulling the entire inventory of toys from their storage location and erratically shifting from one creative game to another throughout the house, and most of these games require ALL of the toys to be moved to a new location every three minutes.  The end result is far worse than any house party the Dude ever threw at his parents’ house….not that I ever did that Mom and Dad.

In addition to partying like a rock star, the Princess is now using the phone like a teenager.  The Princess makes calls to her short list of numbers at freewill.  At this point the phone calls are mainly to Nina, but it’s a sign of what’s to come.

Nina made the mistake of mentioning a girls trip with the Princess two weeks before departure.  A bag has been packed next to her bed for 14 days, and she’s used her limited phone privileges to make travel plans and fill empty moments with a phone attached to her ear.  Like a teenage girl trying to keep her boyfriend on the phone, the Princess can hold a conversation.  I’m only privy to one side of the conversation, but this is what I hear…

  • “Oh, you know what I was thinking about?  Are we going to shop at the top of the mountain?  Should we do toys?…It’s pretty fun if you want.  What else should we buy?…we could buy clothes if you want.”
  • Talking about her bad dream:  “If you wake up and then wake down again, you won’t have the bad dream.”
  • Listing what she packed…14 days ago:  “I put in a Polly Pocket, a pony…I think…and Aerial.”
  • About their trip:  “Can we swing there?”
  • I can only image how Nina responded to this:  “Do you want me to hang up, or do you want me to keep talking?”
  • Filling time:  “Stars are pretty.”

To hold a 25 minute phone conversation shows amazing maturity.  And for every 25 five minute conversation, there’s a conversation full of non-sequiturs that pulls the Dude back into the moment.

Princess:  There’s a donut place before the cabin.
Princess:  There are trees just before the cabin.

Dude:  Yes, like donuts, trees are everywhere.

Princess:  There’s a hill at the cabin…just like winter.
Princess:  We went sledding at the cabin.

Dude:  I’m not really sure I see the connection.

My guess is “kids grow too fast” because we are so busy we forget to pay attention and enjoy the moment to moment growth.  Here’s to paying attention.