The Time My Preschooler Fell in Love

On a recent school-free weekday not long ago, Mrs. Dude took our boys to a nearby park to burn some of their seemingly endless supply of fuel. As I was working in my pleasant 72-degree office, thinking about chasing them around the vast mecca of molded plastic chutes and ladders slowly baking under the 85-degree California sun, I can’t say I was completely disappointed to miss that scorching outing. But a key lesson I’ve learned about parenting, and life in general, is that we often never know what we are missing out on by not doing something. As it turned out, I missed something seemingly big that day. How big? was the real question.

I can see out to the driveway from my home office’s shaded window and usually jump up excitedly, in a way that would make Pavlov proud, when I see Mrs. Dude and the boys return each afternoon. On this day, however, my 5-year-old made a beeline inside before I could even stand up. When the Little Dude bounded into the house he was beyond excited to tell me that he’d had an unplanned rendezvous at the park that day.

Dada, guess who I saw at the park today?

Elmo?

No, guess again…

Buzz Lightyear?

No! I saw Ethan, Braden and Jack from my school!

Oh, that’s awesome.

And guess who else?!

Lightning McQueen?

Come on, Dada. He’s in Radiator Springs. No, I saw Julie from my class.

(I was happy that he mentioned someone I actually knew, as the boys he’d mentioned first are in other classes and strangers to me.)

How exciting! What’d you all do?

We played on the swings and rode bikes and ran for a super long time! And guess what else?!

Ummm, you went down the slides?

Wrong! Slides are for babies. Guess what: Julie is my girlfriend now.

::The sound of a record player screeching to a halt engulfs my mind::

This was not at all what I was expecting from my almost 5 ½ year old’s day out. Thoughts of an imminent wedding rushed into my head before I realized that was highly improbable because neither the bride nor groom would be able to sign the marriage license because they don’t know how to write their names yet.  

Look before you leap

As he smiled his widest grin I’d seen in a while, I thought about how I hadn’t expected to hear about girlfriends for at least another half-dozen years. I know people say that kids are growing up faster these days due to technology and other societal changes, but explaining the birds and bees was not on my immediate radar, nor should it be.

I’m a planner. I’m not into surprises and have the kind of (cursed) mind which races through every possible outcome of a situation before it even begins to unfold. Whether my suppositions are right or wrong is another matter, I just don’t want to be left unprepared with an agape mouth.

So flying without my well-broken-in net, I asked my son what he thought having a girlfriend meant. I anticipated an answer somewhere along the lines of love or kissing or, at the bare minimum, hand-holding. Plus, whatever the reply, I had to be ready with a quip or an anecdote or something brilliant to suppress my suddenly queasy gut about these uncharted waters we were about to dive into.

My son looked at me, still beaming, and I watched his expression shift as he looked for an explanation that he could easily express. No words came out of his mouth for what felt like an eternity before he finally said something that shouldn’t have seemed as unexpected as it did.

I don’t know.

::Exhale::

And just like that I knew my little boy was back, as my nerves began to slowly unwind and return to their normal operating functions.

Him:  Can I go play now?

Me:  Of course. Go have fun.

And thankfully he never mentioned it again. 

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The Moment I Realized My Toddler is Cooler Than Me

From Clark Griswold to Dr. Evil, countless movies have been filled with terribly cliché fathers trying to be cool around their children and failing miserably.  Though I was never the coolest kid in my school, or the least, I was friendly enough to at least stay on the fringe. Now I’m at the point in my life where my desire to be popular is greatly outweighed by my desire for the mythical good night of sleep. Still I want to be and have fun with my kids and if they want to view me as more fun like Vince Vaughn in Old School than known terrible father Darth Vader, so be it.  

But a couple recent events have made me realize that maybe I’m not as cool as I think I am, or maybe it’s just that my boys are already breezing past me right before my eyes. Mrs. Dude and I took the boys bowling recently and I never expected that seemingly innocuous experience to open my eyes so broadly. I hadn’t been bowling in many years, other than on Wii where I’m an expert, so I was surprised at how long the lanes seemed and how heavy the ball felt.

As we took our turns gliding our tie-dyed spheres down the slick lane I felt like I was having a good time. It was fun to get out there with the boys at this stage when they still need us and don’t realize that before long they won’t want to bowl, or do anything else in public, with us anymore. As we took our turns, aided mercifully by the raised bumpers denying any gutter balls, I heard a couple of older kids in the lane next to ours calling the Littler Dude’s name. Not paying much attention because his name is not uncommon, after a moment I realized they were indeed calling for my 2 year old.

I looked up but couldn’t place these kids, who appeared to be about 10 years old, so the fact that they knew my son was both perplexing and concerning. Several thoughts raced through my mind as I stood there when suddenly I noticed the Littler Dude’s preschool teacher standing a little further back in the next lane. These were her kids who had taken a shining to the Littler Dude on a couple visits to his school. Whew.

It truly surprised me that these elementary schoolers would turn their focus from a group of 8 or 10 of their friends to even notice a 2 year old, let alone pay even a smidge of attention to him, but then it hit me: my 2 year old son is cooler than me. This is clearly the beginning of my boys’ upward trajectory and my plateau. Hopefully I’ll have another 50 or 60 years on earth, but I’ll likely never again be as hip as I feel like I once was. (Note: using the word “hip” means I’m clearly not.) I’m not suggesting that I need to be put out to pasture quite yet, but as my psyche is coming to terms with me turning 40 later this year, I realize that I’m no longer a kid. Despite feeling a little sore the day after we bowled, I’m not feeling too many aches and pains yet. I’ve been working on becoming healthier because I know I must keep my machine in solid working order to keep it running smoothly as long as possible. I may be getting older but I don’t intend to feel old in the process.

That afternoon, while the Littler Dude napped, (who’s cool now?), I visited my barbershop for an overdue cut. I saw a new stylist who did a great job (and not only because she noted that I have a good thick head of hair), which really reinvigorated me a bit as I’d been feeling a little shaggy. As she used the clipper to clean up my neck and sideburns, I heard the buzz getting significantly louder when it dawned on me that she was trimming the tiny hairs on my ears. I attributed it to my uber-strong hair follicles and Russian ancestry and let it go.  A few minutes later, though, after she applied the styling goop to my hair in a generous effort to make me look a smidge less like, well, me was when I received official confirmation that I’m not as cool as I thought.

“Do you want me to tame your eyebrows while you’re here?”

“Um, OK,” I sheepishly replied, though the real thought burning my brain at that moment was “get off my overgrown over-eye lawn!”

It’s official: my kids have clearly surpassed me in coolness and there’s likely no turning back.

Bushwacked brows & buzzed ears

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Bonding

It’s early. An hour at which no one should be awake and moving except paperboys and roosters. I’m lying in a small bed with my 3 year old Little Dude and the invisible flu bug he brought home from preschool, which he kindly and unintentionally shared with me.

He's tired, hot and achy but doesn't know how to express what his body is feeling. Facing each other, I notice he’s grasping one of his beloved Hot Wheels tightly in each hand. For strength or comfort, they are with him. As am I. I subtly turn on the white noise machine again, hoping it will coax a few more minutes of sleep out of him for his weary body. And mine, as well. I’ve gotten used to running on empty, but doing so while fighting off illness is a different battle. Another hour of sleep right now would be better than winning the lottery. And I could really use the money.

As the sound of artificial waves crashing upon a distant artificial beach repeats, I pick up my iPhone and sigh as I look at the ridiculously low numbers its clock is displaying.  It's so early that my friends 3 hours ahead on the East Coast haven’t yet begun sharing their pictures of omelets or tales of getting stuck in traffic on Facebook to entertain me.

Resting our stuffy heads on fluffy adjoining pillows, I hope that the source of the flu was at least fun for him while being an evil conduit. Was it the swings on the playground or the school’s lunchroom? Or the grocery store cart’s handle?  We’ll never know.

Though I hope for more rest, as I was just up feeding his newborn brother an hour ago, I know it's unlikely any time in the foreseeable future. As my eyelids bounce heavily, simultaneously trying to sleep and stay awake, I feel something rolling up slowly up my neck like a tarantula in a bad horror movie would. Thankfully it’s only a Hot Wheels monster truck cruising before parking on my congested scalp.

I put down my iPhone, as it needs rest too, and watch my son. He looks at me as we cough together.

This is bonding.

Flip the Calendar

2012 has been quite a ride, though I am very ready for it to end and the journey of lucky 2013 to begin. This has been a notable year around the Dude’s House for many reasons:

·         The blog completed its’ first full calendar year: Now that I’m just about 1 ½ years into this blogging fun, I’m finally starting to get the hang of it. I went to my first blogging conference where I saw old friends and made some new ones. I learned things that helped me improve as a blogger (or at least I think so).  I went from posting once every 7 to 10 days to 3 or 4 times a week. The last few months have put a hitch in all that, but I’m planning on ramping back up in the new year. Unless I win the lottery. Actually, I’d probably blog more if I won the lottery thanks to all the free time I’d suddenly have. So if you want to see more of me next year, cut me in on your next Powerball win.

·         The Littler Dude was born: In late September we were joined by another happy smiley little guy. It’s been a major adjustment for all of us, but now 3 months later, we are finally getting into a good rhythm. (Or as much as is possible while running on 4-5 hours sleep per night.) Let’s hope his schedule evens out when he moves into a crib early next year. Otherwise I may ask to come crash on your couch.

Me & the Littler Dude, 5 minutes old

·         The Little Dude started preschool: We didn’t know what to expect with a major transition not even 3 weeks before his brother was born, but our now-3-year-old handled everything like a champ. Not that I ever doubted him, with his debonair good looks and winning laugh. It hasn’t been entirely smooth, though.

·          I was published on the Huffington Post! No autographs, please. Seriously though, it was quite an honor and I’ve been on there a few times. Very cool. Still haven’t met Arianna yet.

·         I went camping. If you know me in real life, you understand how preposterous that sounds. It wasn’t bad, though I might have felt differently if our HD TV hadn’t been working.

·         I lost the only grandparent I ever really knew. Hard stuff. I know people often say “death is a part of life”, but I’ve learned the hard way that it’s the really crappy part.  

·         I created and celebrated the inaugural Dudes’ Day. It was epic. Looking forward to many more to come. IHOP, watch out.

·         I wrote my most personal post early in the year. As I mentioned, death sucks. But sometimes good things come out of it, like this blog.

It’s been an eventful year with life and death. Good music and birthday parties. And pancakes. Lots of pancakes. And I appreciate you joining me for the ride. If there is anything you want to see more of next year (or less), please let me know. I love hearing from you all. You are what makes this page keep running. Well, you and my two boys and wife. And laptop. Let’s just say it’s a joint effort, but I’m glad you’re here. See you in 2013!

Your Pal, 

The Dude

The Little Dude's Birthday (at IHOP, naturally)

New Years Eve 2012:
Little Dude (3 years) & Littler Dude (3 months)

Keep Your Chin Up

Having been raised in the Midwest, I’ve been amazed by the lack of weather preparedness most Southern Californians possess for pretty much the entire 13+ years I’ve lived here.  I’ve never owned a raincoat during that time, or probably since I was 5 years old, but was appreciative of the generosity of a relative who dropped one off for the Little Dude recently.  He’s the lucky recipient of many hand-me-downs from some older cousins and this was one more for the collection though it didn’t really seem essential given our climate.  Of course, I’m the type of genius who says something like that and then it immediately starts raining. As it did that night.

When the Little Dude woke up the next morning he wanted to check out the bright yellow raincoat he’d received. And as I was headed out the door to take him to preschool, Mrs. Dude handed it to me to bring for him. When we got to school, I took the coat and his backpack out of my car and put them on the Little Dude for our short walk to his classroom. We climbed the slippery steps as a light mist coated our heads. I was content wearing a t-shirt and light fleece sweatshirt. Most of the other parents and kids appeared dressed for upcoming cruises on Noah’s Ark.

After we ascended the steps, we reached the courtyard which is where the Little Dude usually starts to get really excited for school. He started to take off his backpack, as he often does, and when we reached his room he was ready to play. I started to take off his jacket as he entered the room, but apparently the cuffs were a bit small and his hands got stuck while he walked. As his momentum carried him forward, his arms moved behind him like a bird taking flight.  When his feet touched the slippery tile floor below him, the Little Dude dropped to the ground. Chin first. Ouch.

I didn’t know what to do as I watched my first born crying on the floor. I hoped it was just due to shock and not actual injury, but couldn’t tell from my angle. I dropped his jacket, which I’d finally wrestled off his wrists and went to pick him up.

There is no worse feeling as a parent than watching your child crying for a legitimate reason.  Not “I want ice cream!” or “I don’t want to go to bed” crying, but rather “This freakin’ hurts! Help me!”

I picked him up and he clung to me like stink on a sardine. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t pry his face from my chest to assess the damage. We went to sit in the nearby school office, to avoid scaring the other kids, when I finally got a peak. His light-blue tie-dyed shirt now bore a significant red pattern. I was thankful that my sweatshirt was both zipped up and a dark maroonish color, aka the lone option that wouldn’t show any blood leakage.

Someone brought him a bag of ice, but he wasn’t interested. After what felt like 20 minutes, but was probably 3 or 4, of hysteria. I spotted some Hot Wheels and model cars directly next to us. I used a yellow Lamborghini as a distraction and within a few minutes the Little Dude resumed breathing again.

I asked the teacher what the protocol is in a situation like that, but honestly didn’t hear her answer. She said that despite the blood, it didn’t look too bad and he probably didn’t need further attention beyond the Band-Aid they’d administered. Once calm, we headed back to the classroom and I stayed for another 15 minutes to play and observe before heading out once things seemed copacetic. 

The tricky part came next: what to tell Mrs. Dude. I didn’t want to make a big deal about it, partly because I was led to believe by two teachers who are mothers that it wasn’t that big of a deal. I called her from the car and told her just that.  I explained what had transpired and said he’d be fine.  Of course I was disproven when she picked him up and saw the wound herself.  As a guy, I didn’t think it was that bad. To a mother, I can understand how it might be. So she called the doctor and I met them there a couple hours later.

As we waited in the waiting room, the wound opened up again. His yellow shirt turned brownish when the red spots started falling and spreading. Our regular pediatrician wasn’t available, so we saw another who used words like “plastic surgeon” and “sedation”. He said that the cut, which is under the chin and only visible if you look for it, probably wasn’t worth the trouble for something that wouldn’t be noticeable. For several reasons, we agreed and left with a new Band-Aid, a plastic millipede, some stickers and 3 lollipops. Fortunately my little patient had something to show for the $30 co-pay.

I took him in my car and Mrs. Dude took his brother in hers. As the stressful day wound down, my 3-year-old passed out. But I knew there was something else we had to do. So we stopped by the local Vons grocery store and I let him pick out a Hot Wheels car, which he’d told his mother earlier was what would make him feel better. I wasn’t sure if that was sufficient, so as my guilt over possible neglect set in, we walked a few doors down to Baskin Robbins with his new car to wash everything down with some Cookies and Cream. Though I’m not usually a big fan, I now understand why people say Oreos make them feel better. They certainly did the trick for us that day.  

Thankful for Metal

While sleepily driving the Little Dude to preschool last week, I decided to do something radical and turn down the music with the intention of having a conversation. Now that he’s a couple months into preschool, and loving it, the entire 12 minute ride is no longer filled with I don’t want to go to school repeated on a loop.

Thanksgiving was upon us and it was really the first time that the Little Dude should have been able to understand what the holiday is about. Beyond the tales of pilgrims and Indians, boats and turkeys, rests a concept that is so often overlooked. No matter what situation we have in our lives, we are lucky. We should think about that and appreciate it.

So I asked my newly 3 year old if he knew what Thanksgiving was about and he replied “turkeys”. Um, sort of. I went into a long speech about how everyone has certain things in life that we need to be thankful for. For example, he has a Mama and a Dada, a new baby brother and an adoring dog.  I told him that not everyone has those things. Being the inquisitive toddler he is, he asked why. That’s a hard thing for a toddler to comprehend so I told him that every family is different. Some have two Mamas and some might have 5 sisters.Whatever our situation, we should be thankful.

I told him that he is lucky to have a bed to sleep in and clothes to wear. He has food to eat and a school to go to. He has friends and family. He has his health. I asked him if he was thankful for all those things.He said “Yes…and for my Hot Wheels, too”.  Ever since he received his first Hot Wheels a few months ago, he’s been in love with them. He talks about them day and night and sleeps with a few on his nightstand.  He memorizes their names and looks forward to earning more. 

Everyone has their priorities. He’s 3 years old, I know his will evolve.  And maybe next year he’ll consciously realize everything else he is so fortunate to have, even if it is not made of die-cast metal.

I know I do. 

Rockin' Friday: Hello Old Friend

Now that the Little Dude is almost three years old, he has a plethora of friends, many of whom he’s known his whole life.  He doesn’t see them all regularly, but is often glad to reconnect with long lost pals. This week’s Rockin’ Friday tune of the week is one he could sing to his buddies when he runs into them after an extended period.   

Eric Clapton wrote Hello, Old Friend in 1976 for his fourth solo album. It’s a great song about reconnecting with old faces.  It’s a very atypical pop-style song from a guy known for his masterful electric guitar work, but it works very well thanks to the complementary female backup singers who join Slowhand on the choruses.

Key to the song’s kid-friendliness is the very sing-a-longish above-mentioned chorus:

Hello old friend, It’s really good to see you once again. 

It’s a great song with an important message about keeping your eyes on your surroundings, for you never know when you’ll see something unexpected.  That's true about a lot of things in life.

 What's your favorite Eric Clapton song?

Two-Line Tuesday: School

You bet I'm excited for my first day of school! 

What do you mean I have to go for 20 years??

How would you caption this picture?

Rockin' Friday: Another Brick

This week marked an interesting new chapter in the Little Dude’s life: he started preschool.  Day 1 went off without a hitch and he has been very excited about going back.  So this week’s Rockin’ Friday tune is inspired by the return to classes and teachers.

Though the Little Dude’s preschool probably isn’t quite like the school mentioned in the song, this week’s tune is Pink Floyd’s Another Brick in the Wall (part II).  Taken from Floyd’s epic album The Wall, the song is about a rebellion of students versus their demanding teachers. 

Rocking a killer disco rhythm atypical of most Floyd music, Another Brick is one of Pink Floyd’s most successful singles and well-known songs. The schoolchildren singing “We don’t need no education” is both ironic and powerful.  And the teachers telling the students that they “can’t have any pudding if they don’t eat their meat” is a sign of their oppression. Dessert should always be first.

What's your favorite school-themed song?