Golden Pig Tales

Pacifiers are awesome, but pacifiers don’t always pacify Ezra. There are times when he so fussy that he seems to get lost in the chaos of his own screams. There are times when he will just refuse the pacifier by spitting it out again and again until we understand he has no desire to be pacified. During the past this meant walking around and damaging the hearing a little more as he screams and screams and scream until he calms down. While vacuuming the living area around the sofa today, I discovered the wonder of vacuum white noise.

I had heard that the sound of a vacuum could calm a baby, but I never actually witnessed it until today. -v- was holding fussy Ezra on the sofa. I was vacuuming around the sofa. As I turned on and off the vacuum, Ezra’s crying turned off and on. Then about an hour later Ezra was in fussy overdrive because he needed to nap, but was too fussy because he needed a nap to calm down to nap and began screaming and screaming, so I went into the room with the vacuum, plugged it in, turned it on. Ezra calmed down. He went from screaming like a primate, face all flush with crying rage, to a calm and quiet baby looking off into white noise land. Seeing the change so fast makes me believe vacuums are magical.

After being a father of a newborn, I have realized why they are called pacifiers. And I have found the name to be accurate. Yay! for pacifiers!

I have read and been told that baby bonding is best with skin to skin contact. And being a father who sometimes feels that he doesn’t get enough time to bond with his baby, and being a father that can wear spit up stained t-shirt for so long, I sometimes walk around bare chested holding Ezra.

This morning I was walking around with Ezra bare chested and again noticed Ezra’s grip is getting strong as he grabbed a fist full of chest hair and used it to hold himself level or pull himself up.

It did and does hurt. The amount of pain doesn’t have me considering to become a chest shaving metro sexual, but the pain is enough that I do get a bit tense when he grabs a fist full of hair.

I began with a Sazerac for I like straight rye whiskey. I then had a Johnnie Walker Red Label. a Pendleton, and a Dalmore. All were neat, and they all tasted very good. I had these drinks at a pub I use to visit before Ezra was born. And before -v- was pregnant, it was a place we use to frequent to drink and watch basketball. During the span of a year and half I began playing Futsal for one of the pub’s teams.

I had the four drinks after the Rye team won its first game of the Fall season. And after I experienced getting slammed in the balls for the first time in near twelve years. (I was deep heaving on the bench, and I actually had a flash thought of hope Ezra doesn’t experience many moments of getting hit in the balls.) …I need some whishey.

…So, I was home by 9. -v- and Ezra were on the sofa. I showered and brushed teeth. I sat by -v- and Ezra. -v- was crying tears of joy and sorrow at fading baby moments as the baby grows. (What -v- felt only -v- knows.) I photoed and videoed. After awhile, I was alone on the couch. -v- had left to ready for bed, and -v- put Ezra in his Fisher Price Newborn to Toddler Rocker, so Ezra was sitting.

Ezra became fussy. It was his I-am-getting-hungry fussy. A fussy that can be calmed by walking with Ezra and slightly bouncing at the waist. I usually begin to talk with Ezra. Sometimes I sing. I began to talk with Ezra and just as I was about to pick Ezra up -v- came down the stairs telling me I couldn’t hold Ezra because I had four drinks. She stated I wouldn’t pass breathalyzer test and if I wasn’t in the condition to drive that I wasn’t in any condition to hold Ezra. After talking, we agreed that I could hold Ezra while sitting on the bed.

…Now, I am still awake feeling the rush whiskey gives me. I am happy that in four to five hours when I am very much sober, but a bit slow, -v- will be more than happy for me to take and hold Ezra. Now, I am hoping that Ezra has a sleepy morning.

On Monday this week, I took Ezra to my office out in Tigrrrd and three funny things happened:

1. All my co-workers who were in the office got to hear the story about how Ezra was crying and spitting up all the time, and how I finally realized that it wasn’t normal baby behaviour and took him to the pediatrician. I told them all how much better Ezra is doing after a week on his baby Zanex prescription we got from the pediatrician. Everyone looked sort of surprised, but no one said anything. Only after I got home later that night and was talking about this with Kalab did I realize my mistake - Ezra is on Zantec, not the anti-depressant Zanex. So now everyone in my office possibly thinks my baby is depressed, or that he’s just a wee bit too young to be on an anti-depressant and that I’m a horrible parent. Ooops.

2. We went to Babies R Hell to look for Born Free bottles (one of the only baby bottles that is free of bisphenol-A, which is a bad news chemical!) for feeding Ezra the milk I’m starting to express from my milking machine. Only to learn that they only sell those bottles online, and do not carry the bottles in stores. Buh! So I went to the clothing section to see if I could find some long-sleeve creepers, maybe a sweater, maybe a pair of pants for Ezra, since it’s getting cold here and he’s already too big for a lot of his 0-3 month sized clothes. Big mistake! I was overwhelmed by baby outfits! Each one was cuter than the last! I felt a little dizzy and light-headed from the cuteness. I believe I went momentarily baby-crazy. I have never ever felt this way before. Ever! Long story short, I walked out of there with more than $60 in baby outfits, the craziest of which is this little leather “Top Gun”-ish jacket and jeans outfit. As any of my Wisconsin relatives would say: Uf da!

3. Going out to Tigrrrd made me realize that I do not want to go back to work. This is maybe not so funny : (

Today, so far, Ezra purged very little spit up.

This week Ezra has been less fussy. Ezra now shows few of the mannerisms and movements we once attributed to reflux. Best of all, the amount of spit up and amount of spit up has decreased. There were days when he’d only have one big spit up during the day. There were days when he seemed to be a cottage cheese factory due to the amount and digestive state of the spit up. But overall things are improving.

While we have been giving him his baby Zantac everyday twice a day, the cause for this apparent reflux cure could be attributed to -v- and I holding him upright for a half hour after each feeding. And -v- has stopped drinking caffeine and restricted the amount of dairy products (including cheese!) consumed, which has been suggested as possible actions a breast feeding mom can take to help a baby with reflux.

Is Zantac working? I don’t know. Diagnosing cause and cure isn’t always easy. I only know he appears to exhibit less of the symptoms of reflux, which makes Ezra happy, and Ezra happy is much better than Ezra unhappy.

…My mind is lost somewhere between tense, tired, and …And something.<-(Fill in the state here.)

…Ezra is now sleeping…

I noticed again today that Ezra is looking around more. Today’s realization came while he was breast feeding and staring over at me. (Was he trying to make me jealous?)

…This staring was more proof that Ezra can see. No longer staring forward like a zombie. His eyes are now following moving objects, or static objects while moving. He stares at things with pupils pulling his head further around to continue his visual hold upon something. His stare is sometimes cross-eyed making him appear as if he has crazy eyes, but cross-eyed or not Ezra can see the light!

Monday and Thursday are Ezra’s bath days. And seven in the morning and seven at night are the times we give Ezra his Zantac. Both acts have typically resulted in Ezra crying.

Today, I am happy to write that Ezra did NOT cry during either act. In fact, Ezra cried before the bath and after the bath, but NOT during the bath. WOO HOO! And the minty flavor of Zantac did NOT freak Ezra out causing a short lived, but loud, crying session. Yay!

A few minutes ago Ezra went from calm pale faced baby to fussy red faced baby, and I wondered at how fast his complexion changed. It was like turning on a light. Then I wondered that if Rudolf, the Red Nose Reindeer, was out sick and couldn’t help Saint Nick guide his sleight to break into houses then maybe Ezra could help out. Of course, Ezra would need to be fussy the entire time to be Ezra, the Red Faced Baby, and that would probably piss-off Saint Nick.

…Ezra was mostly calm today. He has a few fits when his poopy dances were unsuccessful during the morning time, but once the poop began to flow he began to relax and nap. The only red faced fussy moments since have been his way of saying to us: FEED ME MORE!

Ezra, -v-, and I were sitting on the couch. -v- was reading email on her computer, which was before us all. She read an email from a friend of -v- and I, who I shall call A. A sent a link to a video excerpt of a show called Yo! Gabba Gabba, which I had never heard of before.

The excerpt is a short video clip of Yo! Gabba Gabba of some green striped monster dancing around to a song with a bass driven beat and the chorus, ‘There’s a party in my tummy.’ The monster dances around a plate of food on a tree stump in a forest, and the monster sucks down a leg of chicken then sucks down some cheese then sucks down some juice. The chicken (with chicken bone included) and the cheese are not chewed but swallowed as whole pieces of food that slide down the monster’s throat to party in the monster’s stomach. The food and juice then begin to dance and party in the monster’s stomach and stomach acid. The monster then walks away leaving on the plate the green beans and carrots, who are crying because they can’t join the party in the stomach of the monster. The monster, wanting to make the green beans and carrots happy, swallows the beans and carrots whole, and all the food parties in the monster’s stomach because, afterall, there is a party in its tummy.

Are they trying to make Ezra choke? I realize that the cartoons of partying carrots and chicken wouldn’t look fun if they were chewed up pieces of food, but if Ezra needs to fooled by a green striped monster to eat his vegetables because there is some party in his tummy, and if Ezra really believes there is party in his tummy, then maybe Ezra will believe that in order for there to be a party in the tummy that the food needs to be swallowed whole.

Then one thinks: <Well, that’s why you should watch and explain it with Ezra when he is old enough to understand.> And I respond that there is no way in hell I could watch this, and I could save time and ignorance by just talking with Ezra instead of sticking him in front of this collection of images and sounds and hope they don’t kill him with stupidity.

Fortunately, when the video was playing Ezra wasn’t watching for he seemed more interested in staring at his favorite window then he did at the video. Ezra also probably hasn’t the cognitive ability to define the world at the level needed to be manipulated by Yo! Gabba Gabba, and he won’t be eating solid for many months, but kids grow up fast unless they die young trying to swallow a chicken leg whole, so the chicken leg can join the party in their tummy.

-v- and I did watch another clip of Yo! Gabba Gabba of Biz Markie (a beatbox artist) giving a beatbox lesson, so I was happy to see something worth while about the show, and that there will be instructional videos for Ez-O to watch to improve his already natural beatbox skills. I only hope I will be able to censor all the other images of the show because the show seems like it wants Ezra to choke.

I admit that in a year when Ezra begins to run around the house, and has a more developed cognitive ability, I may be a HUGE fan of Yo! Gabba Gabba if it will allows me a few moments to sit down and relax while he watches a beatbox lesson or sees a party in a monster’s tummy.

I have summed my life experience of Ezra’s moods from birth to now. I have equated he has two time states: one in the morning and one in the evening.

I have equated that Ezra during the morning is a fun loving baby that is quiet and calm (most of the time) when awake. Ezra during the morning time is actually a bliss to be with. He smiles and looks around at the world. He doesn’t fidget much. He even seems to poop more freely thus avoiding a tense and unsuccessful poopy dance.

I have also equated that during the evening Ezra begins to transition to fussy baby. The quiet and calm baby becomes loud and fidgety. He cries and screams more often, and he has more poopy dances that don’t result in poops. He is just more tense.

I reason these two time states of Ezra exist because during the morning time Ezra has had the most sleep, so his mind and body are calm and rested. And that I have also had the most sleep and don’t project my tension to him. (This is not to mean when I first wake up I am happy and full of joy, but once I have had some caffeine and submitted to the fact I will not be getting more sleep I wake up and cheer up and enjoy the calm and fun loving baby.)

It is still the morning time. All the cries and screams of last night feel like they came from a different baby than the one I was with this morning and the one now sleeping next to me.

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.

Ezra has been making new noises while sleeping these past days. The new noises vary in pitch and frequency, and the noises sound unnatural for a human to be creating. The new noises sound like the noises of 80’s synthesizers or a beatbox artist like Scratch and Rahzel.

The new noises Ezra makes are beeps and whistles. Mixed with his other noises, and with a little practice, and a producer, I foresee Ezra’s future in the underground beatbox scene, so Ez-O can earn his street cred and money to pay for his education as an economist to then work to combine music and economics to beat world poverty and earn a Nobel Prize.

These delusional thoughts of baby delusions of grandeur are further projected due to the lack of sleep these new noises cause his parents when the noises wake them up.

My baby is an artist! Here is Ezra with his most recent work:

Freedom! (Partially Digested Milk on 100% Cotton Jersey), 2007.

He was very pleased upon completion of this piece, inspired in part by the testimony of General Petraeus to Congress he heard on NPR last week. His excitement continues because the critics are loving his new pieces now that he’s moved away from using couch cushions as his canvas.

Avast Ye! Da’ doc tid say to me ol’ woman me baby bucko be havin’ da’ reflux.

Doc be sayin’ ta me ol’ woman tis’ nuttin’ we can do but be makin’ sure da’ youngin’ be poopin’ out ‘is dungbie. He be raised as straight as da’ Jollyroger after a feedin’. And be makin’ sure me baby takin’ Zantac ta’ be helpin’ his belly settle like ocean on a calm day. Me be of joy knowin’ me bucko be good.

Arrrrrrrr, poxed me lad not. Cursed we are not. A normal lad he be.

Begad! me mind still be worried for our sleep ‘n sanity. Might be sippin’ da’ grog a might much ta’ silence dose screams dat splice me mainbrace of me mind. Shiver me timbers tis’ all me can be thinkin’. Dose blasted screams addle. Day pierce me soul. Me hoppin’ me baby is not feelin’ much pain. Hopin’ dat blastin’ witch craft brew Zantec given’ me lad some peace from feelin’ pain and belay dat cursed reflux.