Golden Pig Tales

It could have been the first rain clouds in days. It could have been the cold walk through the rain to watch cars that didn’t last long because it was rainy and cold. It could have been his early and short nap. It could have been the fact early in the morning he bit is lip. It could have been my desire to not let him have his binky. It could have been because Ezra only wants -v- to carry him, but she can only carry him for so long. It could have been because it was beyond difficult when dressing him for bed. It could have been that by the end of the day we were all fussy and worn out and wanting quiet. Whatever it was it was one of those days.

Ezra is awesome and I love him more than just about anything. The past few days, however, Ezra has been super mom-clingy and moody. Ever since we went back to daycare after our extended holiday/snowday “staycation”, Ezra has seemed to revert to being a superfan of mom and only mom. He gets upset when dad is the one who walks in his room in the morning. He is upset when I am not the one to soothe him when he takes a tumble. He gives me a scowl and furrowed brow when I say bye bye at playcare in the mornings. He screams and cries when he does not get his way in the realm of toys or food or diaper changing. I am hoping that this is a short-lived phase, but think it could be the start of the terrible twos?

Ear infections were bad during the past, but now that pain appears to be amplified with his want to be soothed with the soothing act of nursing.

I miss his nursing too on days like today for during the past it was only a matter of attaching him to the breast to change a fussing Ezra to a calm and content Ezra, but without the wonder of nursing to sooth Ezra not only is there one less method for us to help him through the pain of his latest ear infection, but there is also agitation he must feel from not being able to be soothed with the breast.

This agitation was felt by all when I got home from work today. Ezra was walking around with a tear streaked face. His arms were raised about shoulder level making him look like a zombie wanting to be held my its mummy. But even holding Ezra didn’t sooth him entirely. He fussed. He cried. He rubbed his ears so much I thought they were going to fall off. So we did give him some baby Mortin and laid him down to sleep all knowing he will likely wake around midnight feeling the pain in his head.

-v-, Ezra and I can only hope two weeks from now, after he gets tubes in his ear drums, that he can begin to live a life free of ear infections.

Ezra’s going through early withdrawals from breast feeding. He goes through tantrums with head shaking and voice screaming and shouting. His head lunges towards -v-’s breast if near. He even pointed at my chest late last night after waking.

He is grabbing pillows and holding them expecting for the pillow to be laid on -v-’s lab followed by Ezra. Instead he is left holding the pillow feeling the pain of withdrawal. This leads into fussing and crying. More signs of addiction.

Little does Ezra know that breaking his addiction to his pacifier is next.

Yay! Yay! Yay! Ezra is 15 months old today! And right now, he is crying in his crib because he woke up due to a stuffy nose, and I went in to check on him picked him up and gave him a hug, and now he wants me to nurse him, and I am trying very hard to work with him to give up the night nursings after he goes to bed. But he is very VERY persistent and stubborn and knows what he wants, so he pulls quite a screaming kicking crying tantrum in hopes it will make me give in (again) and give him the boob.   These night nursings have definitely become his comfort device, and I would like for Ezra to learn how to find comfort in other ways and other things aside from my boobs. I would like for him to be satisfied with a hug and cuddle when he wakes up at night for whatever reason.  Plus, I need Ezra to learn that when I say no I mean it so tonight I must not give in!

Ear Infections fucking suck because they cause Ezra pain; because they wake Ezra often during the night; because they prevent Ezra from napping; because they create a Fussy Ezra; because they fear use to antibiotics; because they worry a parent about surgery on their child to ‘get tubes’; because they make a parent paranoid about their child’s health; because they create cries that no parent wants to hear; because they cause Ezra pain.

I am convinced any parent who says that their child didn’t give them much fuss during teething is lying.

Some time during the past couple of days Ezra has been called Prince Ezra by -v- and I. I have been thinking this and calling him Prince Ezra for days. Days after needing to carry Prince Ezra around to prevent him from entering in to a fussy fit of snot and tears when X reason was causing Prince Ezra to be in a fussy fit of snot and tears. I have called him Prince Ezra after waking for the third or forth time during the night to try to calm a  crying and fussy Prince Ezra from calling out for his parents. I have called him Prince Ezra while he was sitting on his high chair throwing one toy after another on to the floor only wanting another toy to throw on the floor.

Now Prince Ezra sleeps. In fact, Prince Ezra may have gone back to the kingdom. His mood today is less Prince Ezra like and more like the Ezra I know and enjoy. The Ezra that doesn’t need to be attached to -v- or I to sleep, be calm, eat, sit, stand or exist. The Ezra that sleeps through most of the night. The Ezra that wakes with loud talking noises and not loud screams and shouts. The Ezra that smiles more than frowns.  The Ezra that sleeps through most the night for more than one night.

Only time will tell if Prince Ezra is truly gone. Even if Prince Ezra returns, I will love him all the same as I love Ezra. I am after all King.

It was a night of Ezra cries. Very loud and very long and very clear crying.

His teething was very intense last night, or (and) he had gas caused by eating rice pudding and sucking down a lot of air while eating rice pudding. He woke three or four times during the night. Or rather I woke three or four times during the night after hearing Ezra’s cries. Ezra could have waken more, but I could have slept through. -v- was the one who worked the night shift of hanging with Ezra. I worked the morning shift of hanging with Ezra.

I am tired. -v- is very tired.

It feels like he is a newborn again waking up every two hours in reaction to some new sensation Ezra is experiencing. This time, however, Ezra is reacting to teeth pushing through his gums for the first time, or (and) lots of gas.

Though I would love to sleep right now, and I did try, I can’t because my nerves are on edge. I feel tense and nervous. I sit here expecting Ezra’s screams to call me to attention even though I know he is upstairs sleeping…For now.

…It’s been another fun Friday of fussy Ezra having some sort of extended crying session to welcome the weekend and remind both -v- and I what we will be focused upon this weekend. There is nothing wrong with Ezra, but a baby being a cranky baby only able to communicate some unknown discomfort by screaming at the top of his lungs giving a great impression of a pissed off primate screaming from the trees. But instead of being in the trees, he’s right by my ears while I walk around the house saying, „Ezra. It’s okay, Ezra. It’s okay, Ezra. Ezra. It’s okay, Ezra.” And though the cries only lasted a total of a half hour over a couple of hours span of time, the volume and pitch of Ezra’s cries makes seconds seem like minutes and minutes seem like hours. He’s his own time machine. Unfortunately, he can only slow time down when he is crying and speed time up when he is sleeping.

Yesterday morning Valerie noticed Ezra hadn’t pooped much for the past day. Ezra was also very fussy and crying a lot. Of course, like any concerned parent, this caused concern and worry. For me, my worry, was that something was wrong with his intestinal track or sphincter and that major surgery could be needed. When I had a chance search the U.S. Intranet I found two pages:

http://www.drhull.com/EncyMaster/C/constipation_infant.html
http://www.drhull.com/EncyMaster/D/dyschezia.html

The latter was the one that actually gave a description of what Ezra had been doing and what he looked like when he was fussy and what he looked like before he cried and cried and cried and cried and cried and cried and cried.

I came home early from work because both mom and baby were beyond fussy. Ezra did poop a little during the day, but he was still not sleeping much and there wasn’t much poop coming out. And he was still crying an endless oscillating wail of the need of relief. Between a sleepless baby and a sleepless mom, things were very intense.

Valerie was fussy. I was fussy. And Ezra was just plain crazed with emotion.

Ezra wanted to poop, but couldn’t.

Later in the night some grand parents arrived to help hold and walk and talk a crying Ezra to calm him while Valerie and I tried to get some sleep. I got some sleep, but when I woke in the morning I found Valerie downstairs with Ezra. An Ezra, from what I was told, was a poop factory during the night.

Though Ezra has had a crying session this morning that matches any crying session of a normal day, he is now a sleep (so is Valerie) and calm.

I still have the echo of baby cries in my head.

I have become a Fussy Father.

I need more sleep. I need more time. I need more focus. I need more understanding.

When the baby cries and cries and cries and cries and cries and cries and cries and cries my head gets full of frustration and confusions and hope that soon the baby will relax.

I do get tense. And I have been angry at myself for feeling so tense and wishing that the baby would just be quiet for a minute or at least tell me why he is crying. And when I wish the baby would just shut up I feel bad for feeling the thoughts of not wanting to be a father because I don’t know what my son wants.

I am a fussy father because the baby always cries when I have been holding him. I feel I only get to bond with the baby when I change its diaper or burp it or between feedings when I try calm the baby.

My mind is lost in the echo of a baby crying.