Mrs. Dude snapped some fab photos yesterday.
This one spoke to me. It said “I need to be the new header image.” And I listened.
Header
Pixels: Header
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Category Archives: Mrs. Dude
Pixels: I Do Declare!
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
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.
Hap, Happ, Happiest Christmas
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
Eat the Crust First
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
Week 17: 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.
Daily Pixels: Tree Hugging Weather
In a previous post I mentioned that a rainy Sunday can be a blessing. It’s safe to say a Sunday with bright sun, blue skies, no wind, and 75 degree temps is a blessing too.
Thanks Mama Nature. The perfect weather to head outside for some time soaking up fall…tree hugging weather. No actual trees were hugged, but we did consider it.
L.D. slightly over-dressed
I need a tree to hug
Sea Turtle Boil
Tiny Turtle Tracks
Surprise!
Tree Hugger in the Making
Daily Pixels: Round and Round
Mrs. Dude: “Where’s your lunch box?”
Princess: “I have no idea.”
Mrs. Dude: “Think.”
Without any thought. The Princess: “Oh yeah, it’s at school.”
Adding too much information. The Princess: “I only ate half.”
Mrs. Dude: The stink-eye, without uttering a sound.
The Princess: “Just kidding…I’ll eat the other half tomorrow…?”
Mrs. Dude: “Not now. It’s old.”
The Princess: “I know.”
Huh?
Kid logic is great. Just talking in circles.
Let me see if I have this right.
So, you couldn’t remember where your lunch box was, but without any thought you remembered it was at school. You then proceeded to say that you only ate half…which Mom didn’t ask. But come to find out you’re joking. Joking about not knowing where the lunch box was? Joking about only eating half? Never mind, you say you’ll eat it tomorrow….but you also know you won’t eat it tomorrow because it’s old.
I think I deciphered that correctly.
These conversations make the Dude’s head spin round and round.
PS – Please notice how the pony’s hair is carefully braided. We can’t have an MLP leaving the house with messy hair.
Double PS – I was going to try to fit Ratt’s classic hit Round and Round into this post, but I got lazy trying to work it in. However, for all of my loyal readers that love 80’s Hair Metal, I felt it was my duty to stuff it into a “Double PS.” All the metal-heads, break out your rock horns, here’s a link to your daily dose of hair: Ratt – Round and Round.
Week 15 – Time for a 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…
Daily Pixels: Street Cred
Mrs. Dude is coming around. She hasn’t embraced the captain’s hat yet, but she’s starting to dig the minivan.
However, she felt the yacht needed a bit more street cred. So she made a small addition to the tailgate. Naturally I’m referring to a small machine gun sticker. (I have no idea where she finds things like this.)
Now when minivan haters pull up behind us and see the captain’s hat in the rear view mirror and the machine gun, they’ll know they are dealing with some hardcore minivaners.
Boom. Instant street cred.
Hardcore