As young girls, my sister Belle and I both had bedroom windows that faced a block of flats.
In one of the flats, there lived a man whose only discernible feature was that he had a beard. We rarely saw him but when we did he was doing extraordinary things like closing his blinds and turning on (or off) his lights.
We called him Beard Man.
He became the centrepiece of many of our girlhood conversations. I think we even devised a dance called “The Beard Man Dance”, which involved us pretending to close blinds and turning on (and off) light switches. Good times.
Anyway, I recently discovered how beards have a way of creeping up on a relationship. One day your husband is cleanly shaven and then, next thing you know, he’s stopped shaving all together and you find yourself married to your very own Beard Man.
I told my husband about the Original Beard Man. Upon hearing my (extremely) amusing anecdote (blinds! light switches!!), I asked him to get up and turned on (and off) our light and then close our venetian blinds.
He refused, claiming tiredness. You see, after some 20 years of dabbling in karate, he’d finally got around to being graded and had earnt himself a Red Belt. He said the moment he was presented it was like that scene in Return of the Jedi when Princess Leia gives Luke and Han their medals.
“Except you’re more like the Wookie,” I said. “Anyway, what is a red belt anyway?”
“It’s like a black belt, except very very angry,” he said.
“It makes me think about those early sanitary protection devices – you know, with the belts,” I said.
At this point, he grew angry (very very angry) and said I wasn’t allowed to mock his red belt in my blog. However, I was permitted to write about his beard.
“Have you blogged about my beard yet?” he asked, somewhat hopefully.
“No!” I replied. “Like I have nothing else in my life to talk about… Shuh!”
But actually, between you and me, I’ve been very busy recently. I’ve been hanging out at Kidspot Social as one of their “Hero Bloggers” all week, blogging every day, mixing it up in the forums, sharing my sage advice with new mothers who (quite frankly) deserve better.
Anyway, it’s come to Friday and I’m all talked out. I have nothing left to say for myself. Except about my husband’s beard.
Please don’t tell him you read about it here, okay?
____________________________
News of the beard not enough for you? Feel free to read my Kidspot posts:
The Shoe Must Go On
Indoor “Pay” Centres
Heard As Well As Seen
Bed Time Fun For Babysitters
Let Me Explain
silent-red-ninja-belt
Exactly! You hit the nail on the head, mellychan.
Those Kidspot posts are gold, NDM. Very funny.
Thank you, MML. It’s good to know that someone read them and enjoyed them!
I read them too but I think they may have been a case of preaching to the converted. I thought sum of the other blogs wot were on there were a bit scary.
look I meant to write ‘that may have been a case’ not ‘they may have been a case’ and there I was slagging off other people’s inability to write coherently.
I have been very impressed for some time with your ability to mother 3 children and still churn out regular blog posts each week, when I hear that on top of this you have written daily elsewhere, I am totally amazed. I would ask “how do you do it?!” but I’d rather remain wide eyed with wonder and just enjoy the fact that you do
The reality of it is hardly impressive. You should see the bags under my eyes from late nights/ early mornings along with the state of my house!
But thank you for being slightly awed. It makes it feel worth while.
i fully support his new founded beardedness.
Beards just turn a simple act of being too lazy to shave into looking even more awesome than usual!
I’m sure my husband would appreciate the support. Perhaps you bearded folk could start a dance troupe and do a special performance of the “Beard Man Dance” for my fortieth birthday?
As a bearded man also, I find I have nothing to say on this subject, instead I would like to tangent onto Kidspot Social where I have spent the last few minutes reading more of your wisdom and wit.
Not sure that I can return to this blog here and read your prose without the visual support of the Devondale Cheese banners and livery. It was so colourful and this blog is so…white.
But it’s not just our friends from Devondale is it? It’s DORA THE EXPLORER Devondale Cheese.
So do you think perhaps Dora has heard some of the things you’ve written about her in the past? I’m wondering if this is her way of making a point.
Yes, Dora is trying to make me her cheese bitch. That’s for damn sure.
Thanks for trekking into Parenting Land on my behalf, Mr Triv.
Has Mr NDM recently had time off work and/or been camping (or thinking about camping)? If I ever remark to my mum that such-a-body has been away and now has a beard she just says “hmm yes they do that don’t they”. By ‘they’ she means men as a type.
I think it signals some kind of ‘breaking out’ in that 1970s counter-culture way. Mr NDM did once lend me a book on the beat generation so he’s obviously got tendencies that way. Just take this as a sign that he might want to go dancing with wolves once warm evening.
When there’s nothing else to write about, there’s always a husband.
Great material at Kidspot!
Men with beards and red belts will rule the world.
It goes like this: Red belt. Beard. Fat.
I did that (except for the red belt part).
“It goes like this: Red belt. Beard. Fat.”
That’s Santa Claus isn’t it? Does Mr NDM/Box Ted have a Santa beardie-beard? Ginger Santa.
How funny… the man in my life has also grown a beard! But I haven’t asked him to do the Beard Man dance yet. Mainly because I think he would run away very fast with a worried look on his face. And that wouldn’t be good with our impending nuptials just around the corner! So I think I’ll keep that request for the day after the wedding…!
My husband used last Movember as an excuse to stop shaving. He did actually raise some money, but it didn’t stop me dubbing him ‘the old man of the sea’.
[...] to say that whole new worlds have opened up to me as a result of parenthood, for example when the NDM blogged about ‘indoor pay centres’, I didn’t have to visit Wikipedia to be hip to this hot scene. No, [...]