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Week Nine – Chaos
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
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.
Daily Pixels: Self-soothing
So close to finding that thumb.
The Dude and the Mrs. were big time thumb suckers as bambinos. My parents had to duct tape socks to my hands to get me to stop…they also duct taped our couch when I was growing up, apparently duct tape does fix everything.
Seems thumb-sucking is in our blood.
How great will it be when he figures this out? May the Force be with you Little Dude.
Week Eight – Celebrate Good Times
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!
Although, 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
Week Seven – Promise
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
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.
- 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.
- 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.
-
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.
- 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.
- 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.
- 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.
She’s Crafty
Tomato Thief
She’s crafty. The title of a classic Beastie Boys ditty, but also an attribute Mrs. Dude has displayed with increasing consistency. Mrs. Dude is crafty.
The hordes of avid readers may recall the Dude’s “This Little Piggy” post as a past example of her wily actions.
She struck again. Preying on the unsuspecting Dude who has faith in the words the pour from her lips.
As the night wound down, and the Dude performed the end-of-the-night rituals of locking down the house, Mrs. Dude brought up an interesting topic…out of nowhere.
“I think we should call Little Dude by his middle name.”
?!?!?!
I was stunned and assumed this was a joke, but the joke didn’t seem to have a punch line, and the Mrs. wasn’t backing down.
“The middle name is growing on me. He looks like his middle name.”
The Dude recommended the middle name early on as his number one choice, but Mrs. Dude wouldn’t have it. I never got a concrete reason, but it seemed like she felt the name would be too popular down the road. Who am I to argue with motherly psychic abilities?
After much deliberation the Mrs. approved it for a middle name.
We had a name chosen about five months into the pregnancy, so we’ve been acclimated to The Boy’s name for months…along with everyone we know. Yet, now, on a whim, a name change seems to be a serious discussion.
I tried to explain the awkward discussions we would have to have every time someone mentions his “old” name. How I liked his name, the meaning behind the name, and our reasoning for choosing the name.
I refused to believe this was a real discussion. The conversation carried to the bedroom. As I brushed my fangs it continued. I hopped into bed in disbelief, but the Mrs. stuck to her convictions in a stubborn, unapologetic way the Dude has yet to witness from her.
She explained that she calls him by his middle name when I’m not around!
Ahhh…what?!
Just as smoke began to stream from the Dude’s ears, Mrs. Dude said, “I have something I need to tell you.” 99.99% of the time, “I have something I need to tell you” is not followed by words you want to hear.
Dude: “Great. I can’t wait to hear it.” Sarcasm dripping from each word.
Mrs.: “I bought a lens for the camera.”
Dude: “Are you attempting to kill me? You want to change Little Dude’s name, and you are spending money on a lens for the camera?” “And you choose to bring these topics up at the same time…as I’m going to sleep?”
The only response appropriate for this exchange was laughter. If it wasn’t laughter is would have been tears.
Mrs.: “I’m just kidding; I don’t want to change his name. I did buy a lens tough.”
What a relief!
Dude: “Little Dude can keep his name?! I’m fine with a new lens.”
Mrs.: “Actually, it’s two lenses.”
Unbelievably crafty! A twenty minute setup for two new camera lenses…and based on the approach, I’m psyched about the outcome.
The Dude has his guard up, but I predict I’ll be hoodwinked again.
PS – The picture above is taken with the new “portrait” lens. I could be tricking myself, but it seems like the picture is more crisp and bright. It’s a picture of Beans thieving a tomato from the garden. He doesn’t even like tomatoes, but The Hyena turned him on to the free food, and he can’t contain his animal instincts.
Week Five – Change
“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
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.
Week Four – Poop Rules My Life
Little Dude Snoozing
As the Dude ventures down the path of blogging about family life, including a newborn, it’s inevitable that the subject matter will veer towards poop at some point…possibly often. Given the first four weeks with Little Dude, my guess is poop could be a highly discussed topic.
Week four seems to be giving us some indication of the crankiness source. We are not overly confident in this theory, infants are a fickle lot, but all signs point to some sort of development, or lack thereof, with digestion.
Poop is what it is. A natural fact of life. But for an infant, and especially Little Dude, it’s pretty much a matter of survival. Really, everything at the age of four weeks is a matter of survival; it’s hard to be tiny, defenseless, and completely confused by everything around you. But, for Little Dude, poop seems to be his kryptonite. Serious discomfort.
The Boy shares hints of the serene quietness conjured in the mind’s eye with the thought of an “infant,” but the quiet periods have been short-lived. Those tiny hints of calm have been separated by eating, sleeping, and fussiness. However, the calmness is gaining strength, and Mrs. Dude reported today the Little One was smiling all day. Smiles are a rare occurrence, never mind a full day event.
His body is beginning to operate more efficiently, and the stretches of calm, sometimes even happy, states are increasing. The waves of fussiness are almost always ended by some form of gas; burp, fart, poop (he’s such a dude!). Once he gets it out, the calm spreads through his body. Uncomfortable digestion seems to be the source, and now that the digestion seems to be running a bit more smoothly, the periods of fussiness are decreasing…in length anyway.
This is a big improvement from week three where colic was able to maintain a strong position on the list of possibilities. We may not be able to discount the Big C completely, but we are rapidly moving past this theory…or, at least the Dude is using the power of positive thinking.
In parts of the East Coast where I’ve lived, there is a cliché about the weather that seems to apply to infants (probably most aspects of life); if you don’t like the weather, wait an hour. In other words, if you are faced with a challenge, a thunder storm or a fussy baby, give it some time, things will change.
Just when we get this digestion figured out, I’m sure another challenge will develop, but for now, it’s great to see the Little Dude moving past the largest challenge in his life….and we’ll be ready to tackle the next one.
PS – Since we’re on the subject of bodily functions; I love how changing a boy’s diaper is similar to participating in a cheesy game show. Every time I’m wrestling with the Little Dude to change his diaper, I feel like I’m on an Asian game show with tacky English humor being dubbed in.
How quickly can you separate the cloth from the clammy skin, apply a goopy white substance, drag his butt in the air, slip a new diaper under, and grapple with the flailing limbs to secure the sticky straps, all before you’re sprayed in the face? There are a range of theories to prevent this hilarious struggle, but reality tends to trump theory. Babies are surprisingly strong and pee is difficult to shield. Changing requires speed and efficiency.
There should be a Dad Olympics.
I’m On a Boat!
I'm On a Boat
Do they make infant life preservers? Would it matter if they did; could an infant actually preserve his life with one? My guess is a parent and their life jacket suffice…right?
Well, the Little Dude had his first boat ride yesterday…sans life jacket…please don’t tell Social Services.
It was perfect. We were watching that amazingly boring World Cup championship (Don’t get me wrong, I played soccer from kindergarten through college…I like it, but that game was lame even for soccer fans.), and Mrs. Dude’s Dad, aka Rex, saved us from boredom with a cruise on his power boat.
It was a gnarly summer day; bright sun, blue skies, calm water, hot, but with a good breeze.
Boats seem like a lot of work and money, but they sure are fun to be on. It’s a whole new perspective from the water; literally and figuratively. The trip refreshed all of us.
The Little Dude loved the motion and the breeze, and Mrs. Dude commented that it was the “most fun [she’s] had since being eight months pregnant”…when the real discomfort set in.
We made a point to stop a couple times to hop overboard to swim, so the Princess was delighted, and the Dude soaked in the entire experience…all the while silently singing I’m on a Boat in my head.