Golden Pig Tales

So, I got Ezra from pre-school, and Ezra was in good mood. We played in my car, and Ezra was in a good mood. We came in the house, and I started dinner. We talked, and things were calm. …Until Ezra wanted some juice. I said, ,,Okay.” So, I got a cup, but Ezra wanted a special cup that needs a straw. I told him we didn’t have any straws. Ezra insisted we had one left and pointed to were the straws were at. And there was the straw box and inside there was a straw, but it was a half straw that wouldn’t work with the cup that needed a full straw. This was not something Ezra could accept. He wanted a straw that was not cut and he wanted it then and there and wanted to scream that fact. Then everything went down hill from there as we both got tense and fussy.

Ezra hit -v- for the second night in a row, so he only got one book this night. Last night he got no books read to him because he hit -v-. Both hits were hits that happened near sleep time when Ezra was tired, but not wanting to go to bed, and he wanted to do one last thing, but we would let him do one more things, so he slapped -v-’s leg.

Ezra’s fussy fits are here and there between during most days and weeks, and most the time the fussy fits of Ezra are now staged. It is like he has these acts and sounds that he creates until a certain set of sounds or acts will get attention. It is like he is an actor attempting to see what acts will get him the role of fussy-kid-who-deserves-another-Fruit-roll-up-Twist. Usually, when he gets into a fussy fit he will himself forget what it was he was fussing about after he calms down. It’s weird because some times I can see him looking at me and adjusting his sound to my reaction then I smile and he doesn’t like that because he feels I am mocking him, and I am not mocking, but rather amused by the fact my son is beginning to learn how to manipulate me.

One day you’re liked because you help build forts then the next day you are not liked for some unknown reason. Tonight Ezra liked mom and the cats, but not dad. And for no apparent reason other than I was not mom or the cats because I was being a good dad as -v- said and offering to build forts, help him with puzzles or read him books, but nothing I could do could change Ezra’s mind. At one time, I was Bad To The Bone like the song that Grave Digger plays before he begins to do the freestyle over the stadium floor. But unlike Grave Digger, I was unable to please Ezra in anyway tonight, which didn’t make me feel bad to the bone, but was kind of sucky. He was tired, so I can understand. I reason that he was just preparing me for his teenage years.

Nothing could satisfy Ezra today except being attached to -v-. Even that had issues a couple of times when he wasn’t satisfied with the method of how he was attached to -v-. It is true he’s got a cough and a snotty nose. It is true the ear with the ear tube still inside was oozing fluid, so it’s not like its not without cause or reason. But still, I have to write that it has been a long time since I have felt this relieved that Ezra has finally went to bed.

Ezra wanted me to go to the farmer’s market with him and -v- this morning. Though I do not like farmer’s markets, I went because Ezra wanted me to go. And we went. We bought pastries, ate pastries, bought tomatoes and berries then strolled around and sat on a bench and ate blue berries, raspberries and strawberries while watching cars drive past and dogs run around. It was a good time even though we were at a farmer’s market and even after a few tense minutes while -v- waited in line for the pastries, and Ezra and I had to stroll around the crowed farmer’s market to avoid creating a stroller jam while Ezra asked for, ,,Mommy, mommy. Mom. I want my mom,” while I got tense and sweaty and wanted nothing more for -v- to be done with the long line that seemed to never move even as we stood there and watched and strolled by all the crowds of people waiting and talking and listening to music and looking at me and Ezra as Ezra began to shout, ”I WANT MY MOM,” then  I felt like the people looking at us may think I have kidnapped someone’s kid.

Ezra hasn’t really been happy about going to playcare after spending a fun week with Gramma O. Ohhhhh no. I’ve had to leave him crying, or  in today’s case, screaming. Even the arrival of his friend Maya didn’t make him happy. So, I feel pretty bad about leaving him. This is not easy nor a very pleasant way to start the day. The last time he cried about staying at daycare was months and months ago when his favorite teacher wasn’t there in the morning. The daycare is a little more chaotic the last couple of weeks due to some reorganization they’re doing and renovations at the preschool house, so that might be contributing. Maybe tomorrow I will stay a little longer with him in the morning. Hopefully he’ll get back to having fun times and waving ‘bye to me as he goes off to play with his friends. sigh.

,,Grandma do it,” was said by Ezra nearly as often as, ”Mom do it,” when I would try to change a diaper, pull Ezra from crib, read him a book during these past days. Grandma is gone. Now, -v- has no one else to help change a diaper or read him a book if she is around without Ezra fussing and saying loud, ,,MOM DO IT. NO, MOMMY DO IT.”

Like the a gauntlet thrown down, -v- tossed the diaper she tried to put on a mad fussin’ Ezra. Then she exhaled the tension from body and laid backed. And the diaper seemed to float for a second before it landed on the floor. Ezra won the strike, but not the duel of diaper and pants. He left for play care wearing diaper and pants.

-v- wrote an email reading that Ezra is the perfect kid except for him not wanting to change, wear, not wear pants and or diaper.

I agree. He’s great in every way, but it is a fucking pain to get Ezra to change his pants or diaper. Getting pants or diaper off is a complete battle itself. He whines and kicks, jiggles, squirms, moans, pushes, says, ,,No,” swats and fusses. And with the other battle putting on the pants, pajama bottoms, shorts or underwear, it some times feels like a war. Shirts nearly fly on and off like a jet over his body with no to little fight when compared with the pants.

He has this favorite pair of pajama bottoms with choo-choo trains on them that he always wants to wear even to playcare. And he loves them, so they’re easy to get on, but then getting them off for another pair of pants or pajamas is between a negotiation and a battle that feels to last for a morning. While I do have to let -v- from time to time be The One changing Ezra’s pants for she doesn’t battle with him, I am becoming more calm and focused. Instead of getting angry for battle, I am trying to just think of the trains and truck camouflage pants and shorts that I want to make Ezra, and that Ezra would always wear and would always be happy to change. I see the pants like a collage of trains or trucks or motor cycles…

Ezra didn’t want to leave the park. Nor did he want to get into the bath tub. Then he didn’t want to leave the bath tub. After getting out of the bath tub Ezra didn’t want to wear his diaper or shorts or shirt. He wanted nothing more than to fuss loud and let us know he didn’t want to wear a diaper or shorts or shirt.

We did try to put his diaper on his body, but after a few wild shakes of Ezra we realized Ezra didn’t want to be clothed.

Ezra did fall asleep on his Fire Truck Bed. He has woke a couple times. He may wake again if he pees on the Fire Truck Bed.