Tag Archives: Little Dude

Week Three – The Baby Blur

Posted on by
Reply
Little Dude Week Tres

Little Dude Week Tres

With the week one exuberance and the week two naïve belief in routines behind us, we are working through week three, where  the true baby blur starts to set in.  Actually, I could be wrong…is this week three?  I’ve completely lost track of time.

Limited sleep is not easy, but at some point nature takes over and limited sleep is turned from groggy crankiness into a calm blur that is almost manageable…almost, i.e. the Baby Blur.  The Dude and the Mrs. have conversations about how Little Dude is sleeping and who got up when, but most of these conversations fizzle out when one of us asks, “wait, was that last night or the day before…or two nights ago?”

There is just no way to keep track of time when the clock has become an irrelevant decoration on the nightstand.  When The Boy is up, we are up, and there’s no way to combat that fact; so it becomes an exercise of acceptance, and with acceptance comes a somewhat peaceful blur.

Little Dude is settling in pretty well.  He’s eating and gaining weight, the small amount of jaundice is pretty much eliminated, his belly button is about 99% healed, and he’s starting to show signs of smiling.  However, he has been a bit uncomfortable over the past week or two.

There are a wide array of theories about the source of this discomfort, but the Dude is realizing that while everyone has great insights and valuable experience, when it comes to an infant (and probably all aspects of life) no one really knows; we’re all guessing and making estimates based on the experiences we’ve had in our individual pasts…life is one big mystery composed of a series of experiments from start to finish.

Luckily, the Dude and the Mrs. have a stable of valuable advisors with extensive baby experience.  When one piece of advice (or guess) doesn’t work, there is no shortage of suggestions waiting to be applied.

The gas medicine that I mentioned in last week’s Lessons does seem to help the Little Dude to some degree, but it’s definitely not a cure-all; he’s still been relatively fussy.  So, is it gas, allergies,  over-sensitivity, or the Big C – colic?…noooooo, don’t say the Big C!  Perhaps a bit dramatic, but a crying baby is about as dramatic as it gets; so to think of a baby with colic that is inconsolable is a bit nerve-wracking.

We can’t seem to figure it out, and the advisors are a bit perplexed as well, so we decided to get some doctoral advice.  After an appointment with the Pediatrician, we are making some changes, and seeing some good results, but we’re talking about a human life span of three weeks; we really don’t have much to measure success against.  When he’s able to relax, it could have more to do with the changes he’s going through than any changes we make.  However, to be on the safe side, changes are being made, and we’re seeing positive results.  The Mrs. has cut out all dairy, peanuts, eggs, caffeine, spicy foods, and is off an anti-biotic she was taking.  And fingers are crossed.

We’re seeing smiles and yesterday we were all able to lay on the bed and play without the hint of any fussiness.  Perhaps the advisory committee does know what they are talking about, and the Dude is crazy for second-guessing.

I’m not so sure.  At this point the Dude is subscribing to the belief in Voodoo, Grammie Voodoo.

Over the weekend, the Dude’s Madre, aka Grammie, came to visit, and prior to her arrival, the Dude’s sister (we really need a good nickname for her) told Mrs. Dude that Grammie would work her Grammie Voodoo magic on Little Dude while she was here.  Indeed she did.

In defense of every piece of advice we’ve been given, this visit did coincide with all of the changes that we implemented, but the Dude is leaning towards the Voodoo…I saw it with my own two eyes.  Unintelligible singing, strange patterns of walking and swaying that almost seemed ceremonial, and an immeasurable amount of hugs and kisses were used to mesmerize the Little Dude, and he loved it.  The Dude and Mrs. Dude loved the extra hands as well.

I have no hard proof that the Grammie Voodoo worked, but then again, I have no hard proof that any of the other changes are working either, so I’m going with Voodoo on this one.

I guess the lesson for this week is seek advice but use discretion; Mom and Dad are ultimately responsible for the bambino and the bambino’s happiness.  Use advice as you see fit.  But, the true lesson is get Grammies involved as much as possible.  They might just be guessing, but they seem to understand how to make the right guesses at the right time.

The Zoo

Posted on by
8
The Zoo

The Zoo

Everyone needs a little security in their lives.  Nothing beats Mom’s tightly held hand or warm hug, but security could be as simple as a favorite hat, a lucky t-shirt, a power tie, or a soft, cuddly blanket.

Mrs. Dude is a pretty great Mom, but she explained to the Dude that it’s not possible for her to hold Little Dude’s hand or hug him 24 hours per day.  So, we were faced with the daunting task of determining how to offer security to the Little One when the Mrs. is absent.  I suggested a piece of my wetsuit since that keeps me warm and cozy in the water, but Mrs. Dude pulled rank and said the Mom would make this decision.

Ok.  One less decision for the Dude process; works for me.

I watched silently as a tiny silky blanket with a dog’s head that was three times too large was paraded around the house as the worthy contender.  I knew it wouldn’t last, but the Dude had taken a vow of silence on the subject.  “Oh yeah, Mrs. Dude, great blanket.  The Boy will love his giant headed dog.”

The vow would have probably been broken considering how goofy this dog was, but the Dude had confidence in the Mrs….and the Dude’s sister had already paved the way for this decision.  The lady with four kids under the age of 6 probably has the whole security blanket thing figured out.  The Dude knew that it was only a matter of time before Mrs. Dude was exposed to the greatest security blanket known to man.

After a visit with the Dude’s extended fam, the Mrs. declared that she was going to get one of the same security blankets the cousins have.  This was a big step, but it opened the door to an even harder decision; what blanket to choose.  The blankets come in a variety of animal shapes, basically stuffed animal heads on the top of a blanket.

The cousins each have a different animal, but with a twist.  The twist being that one blanket really won’t last, so multiple blankets were purchased as back-ups.  This is great in theory, but really this just leads to the kids needing multiple blankets of the same type; one just won’t do if I can have two.  As a result, Mom and Dad are forced to corral multiple, identical blankets for each child.  This is pretty much a full-time job; they had to hire a nanny to watch after the blankets!…not really, but they should!

We were committed to the type of blanket, but Mrs. Dude couldn’t make an animal choice, so it was decided that we would get three to help us determine our favorite; the owl, dinosaur, and lion would be included in the selection process.

For two months leading up to Little Dude’s arrival, the Dude and the Mrs. slept with the blankets under the guise of adding our scent to the fabric, but really we were snuggling with each trying to choose our animal.    The lion pulled out to an early lead, but the Mrs. couldn’t keep herself off the website and three grew to five; the cow and raccoon joined the pack, adding to the indecisiveness.

No clear winner has yet to be established.  However, now I’m concerned that if/when a winner is chosen, we will then have to wade through multiple impostors to reach the true source of security during times of crisis.  It’s inevitable that when security is needed, the true champion will be unnoticeably wedged between the couch cushions while the rest of the animal tribe is frolicking in the open, and the Dude will undoubtedly try each and every impostor before embarking on the hunt for the chosen one, all the while Little Dude wailing away.  It’s a grim scene, but totally predictable.

Perhaps that’s better than hunting for multiples of the same blanket, as the Dude’s sister must do, but probably not.

Then again, the kid usually determines the winner, and most times the choice is completely unexpected.  The Dude latched onto  a pillowcase, and the Princess fell in love with a blanket that was purchased as a gift for another baby.

My guess is the Little Dude catches us off guard with his security blanket choice…I’m still holding out for the wetsuit. For now, we’re enjoying the zoo and trying to give each animal equal face time with the “Decider” (as George W. would say).

Choose wisely Little Dude, the fate of the zoo is in your hands.

Lessons from the Front Lines – Week Two

Posted on by
Reply
Little Dude's Little Feet

Little Dude's Little Feet

1. Crankiness does not take away from cuteness, but it sure does lead to long nights and tired days.  Little Dude has been a bit cranky this week; unable to stay comfortable for much longer than an hour stretch.  This crankiness leads to some long nights and tired days making the development of a routine pretty unlikely at this point.  It seems that the still developing intestines are the source of the Little Dude’s gaseousness and resulting crankiness…that’s our theory anyway.  Which leads me to point number two.

2. There are over-the-counter gas relief medicines specifically designed for infants.  Awesome!  We’re not a huge “medicine family,” but considering The Boy’s discomfort and our sleepless nights, we’re cool with making some exceptions.  When we heard this from a trusted source, Mrs. Dude made a straight-line to the nearest pharmacy and stocked up.  To our amazement, it worked…very well.  Little Dude started to show signs of his true calm and relaxed nature within an hour.  Our nights are still relatively sleepless, but at the least The Boy is more comfortable.

3. In the week one ruminations, the Dude couldn’t commit to the absolute necessity of a baby swing, but with an additional week of experience comes an additional commitment to the baby swing.  It’s a must.  No two ways about it.  A must.  This is a big step for the Dude considering that during pregnancy I questioned why we needed this large contraption cluttering our house, and after week one I liked it, but wasn’t sure of the necessity, and by week two the Dude has asked the Mrs. if we should have two, one for the bedroom and one for the living room!  Little Dude trumps all other priorities; so decluttering and saving money are pushed aside as soon as it’s clear that one of The Boys happiest spots is gliding back and forth in the swing.  If it brings Little Dude happiness, the Dude is all for it.

4. Adjusting back to work after a bambino enters your life is not easy.  The job is the same, and getting back in the groove is the same as returning from any other vacation, but the mind is on the family and the time being missed while locked inside the confines of another work week.  There’s got to be a better way.  Is this work-our-lives-away American Dream the best we can offer as a society?  Are our priorities properly aligned?  Shouldn’t our amazing technological advancements be pushing us towards a “Leisure Society” where family and quality of life trump hours in an office and the accumulation of money?  The economy sure does seem to be going through some growing pains these days; perhaps a shift of priorities is on the horizon…let’s hope.

Happy week two birthday Little Dude.

How are Gordon and Iris?

Posted on by
2

This blogging stuff isn’t all glamor, paparazzi, and big bucks.  There are long hours required to prepare the random lineup of gibberish that pours forth.  On Friday night I was up late wrestling with some “widgets,” trying to wrench them into place in the blog layout.  By 1 AM, I was beat, but I tamed the widget.

After letting the dogs out one last time, my head hit the pillow by 1:30 Am, and I was prepared for a deep siesta basking in my blogging success.

At 2:20 AM the Dude woke to Mrs. Dude exclaiming “My water just broke…or I peed all over myself.”  Indeed it was her water, and the boy was preparing to make his entrance.

We laid in bed to gather our thoughts, and determined that it was a good idea to rest for a bit to build strength for the marathon delivery we were anticipating.  Within minutes contractions were starting, but we couldn’t get a consistent reading on the timing, so we figured we were relatively early in the process.  We decided we’d labor at home until about 6:30 AM.

Rest really was a naïve plan considering the excitement that was beginning to collect.  So, the Dude set out to pack an overnight bag, and the Mrs. hit the bath to relax as much as possible.

The contractions began to intensify, but continued to lack consistency; jumping from 5 to 10 minutes and back again.  As the intensity grew, Mrs. Dude launched into what would appear to most as a rigorous yogic ritual, but was actually every laboring position known to those that know a lot of labor positions.

Positions didn’t last for more than a minute or two, but each new position met its intended purpose and provided a tiny bit of comfort, more likely distraction, that helped the Mrs. make it through one contraction and on to another.

By 4:00 AM, we started to get the feeling that the intensity was increasing quicker than we expected, and Mrs. Dude was questioning whether her laboring techniques would provide the comfort needed to manage a lengthy labor.

Filling the role of concerned Birth Partner, I pressed the Mrs. for information in a meager attempt to understand the process and where we were.  However, I quickly learned that the Mrs. appreciates quiet suggestions and reassurance rather than inquiries.  She answered the Dude’s questioning with a question:  “Why do these contractions come every time you talk?  I’m not blaming you, but I do feel I need to point it out.”  Ah ha, point taken; no more questions.

At about 4:30 AM, we called in our labor coach; known as Nina to the Princess and Mom to Mrs. Dude.  Nina arrived at about 5:30 AM.  Just in time to assist the Dude in removing the Mrs. from her second bath.  Mrs. Dude was questioning the laboring techniques and hoping we didn’t wait too long to leave for the hospital.  The Dude and Nina provided assurance that she was doing great and we had plenty of time.

We hit the car, and within minutes, the cry of “I need to push!” was echoing through the baby chariot.  It was on!  I hit the gas, and we urged Mrs. Dude to take short breaths and try not to push.  It was an urgent situation, but in the back of our minds it felt like we had time.  We exceeded the posted speed limit by a bit, passed a cop who was either sleeping or couldn’t catch us, hit every green light, and made it to the hospital safe and sound.

Mrs. Dude hurried out of the car and through the doors.  Her hands slammed on the reception desk followed by “I need to push,” as her head swung down to cope with the growing pressure.  The attendant looked up at me and calmly, almost sarcastically, asked, “are we going to have a baby?”  I reiterated that we need to hurry and push.  Luckily, Mrs. Dude was ahead of the plan and already preregistered, so we just needed to provide some basic information to be admitted.  If only the Dude could remember basic information.

“What’s the name?”  The Dude provides the maiden name, which elicits a screeching correction from Mrs. Dude.

“What’s the date of birth?”  In a moment of clarity, the Dude chooses to ask the Mrs. for the correct answer.  Also, not the best approach, but slightly better than an incorrect answer.

The attendants are now somewhat curious about the couple they have before them.  A mom-to-be clearly about the welcome a bambino, and some dude who doesn’t seem to know the mom too well.  Which leads to the final inquiry in the line of questioning; “Are you married?”  Ah, finally an easy one!  The Dude knows the answer to this.  “Yes, we’re married,” which of course the attendant follows with “Are you sure?”

Great, I’m being mocked at 5:45 AM at the Emergency Room reception desk as my wife  writhes in pain about to push out my child onto the cold laminate floor and strangle me at the same time.  Thanks Nurse Crotchet; can we proceed now?

Did the stress get to me?  Possibly, but I pulled the same routine at Walgreens picking up prescriptions the next day.  Didn’t Einstein say he didn’t want to remember things he could look up…or something like that?  Perhaps I’m following in his shoes…I need a general info card for my wallet.

A nurse arrives, and we move past the Gatekeeper/Chris Rock.  Mrs. Dude is in the token wheelchair, and the Dude is steering her around corners like Dale Jr. at Daytona (that’s for all my NASCAR loving readers!).  As we round the last corner before hitting the delivery room, a cheerful nurse pops out in front of us and asks in a bubbly voice “Are we about to have a baby?”  Within a fraction of a second the bubbles evaporated from her voice and she was hit by the serious stick.  Mrs. Dude’s face said it all, and if that wasn’t enough the stern “I’m going to push” drilled the point home…the boy was ready to arrive, now!

With the exception of Mrs. Dude, everyone involved in the process seemed to assume we had plenty of time…but we didn’t.  Mrs. Dude was on a bed in record time, and the nurses were prepping at a rapid pace.  The initial measurements gave us all the information we needed.  The baby was here; there would be no further waiting.

Mrs. Dude was amazing throughout the entire process.  Calm, assertive, and strong.

The nurses worked to slow the progression to give the Dr. more time to arrive, but nature was calling, and the Mrs. needed to push.  Nina stepped in and explained that nature doesn’t always work on the Doctor’s schedule.  Mrs. Dude started to actively push, and the nurses moved into position to catch the freight train speeding down the birth canal.

The first push offered enough relief to allow Mrs. Dude to collect the breath she’d been using to fight off the pressure to push.  A sense of calm eased over her face, and the Mrs. asked “How are Gordon and Iris?”  The room was a bit confused.  Nina and I vaguely understood because we’d seen Mrs. Dude’s “shop talk” before, but the nurses were lost in confusion.  Mrs. Dude asked again, “How are Gordon and Iris?  Your dog and cat?”  The nurse in the catcher’s position brightened as she realized the topic of discussion, and the Mrs. explained that she worked at the animal hospital and knew the nurse’s Dog, Gordon, and cat, Iris.

Why this question came to mind, I don’t know, but the simplicity of it in such complex situation was striking.  The world was moving by us in a flash, our baby boy was about to be born, and Mrs. Dude could gather her wits among all of the confusion and pain and not only recognize a client, recall the names of her two animals, but also care enough to ask!

Add it to the list of reasons the Mrs. is easy to love.

The delivery continued for the next two minutes without a hitch, and we welcomed the boy child with open arms at 6:00 AM on the dot.  Within 15 minutes of arriving at the hospital Little Dude was in our hands…three and a half hours after the water broke and 20 minutes before the Doctor arrived.

What an amazing experience, what an amazing wife, and what an amazing boy!

Welcome to the world Little Dude.

Little Dude Day One

Little Dude Day One