Life with a Boy

Remy and I have settled into a little parenting dance. He is a normal rambunctious baby boy for 1-2 days, followed by 2-3 days of awful makes-me-never-want-to-have-children-again days, followed by 1 (maybe 2) days of pure wonderful baby bliss. For those 1-2 days I savor every second, delight in telling people what a good little baby I have and maybe even let the thought creep into my mind that possibly...possibly I might think about having another baby.

Right now we are in the 2-3 awful days. He won't nap, but cries because he is so tired. Refuses to eat or drink his bottles and rarely allows himself to be distracted by toys. I'm not stupid, I know he probably doesn't feel well. The frustrating part is that I don't know what the problem is and he can't tell me. Maybe he is teething, maybe his tummy hurts, maybe his head hurts from the multiple times a day he falls on the hardwood floors head-first, maybe he is having leg cramps. The point is, I don't know.

In the last few days he decided everything needs to go in his mouth. His favorite is multiple handfuls of dirt. He ate such a big handful last night that he threw most of it up, you would think that would deter him. O no, he tried to go back for more. Than when Nic tried to feed him supper he was chewing strange so Nic felt around his mouth and pulled out a stick. Yes, a stick. He cried when Nic took it out because he wanted it back. I removed a ring from his mouth this morning that he found in some wayward place. I am starting to live in constant fear of him choking on something that could have easily been avoided.

Today we went to the beach and a mother, there with her toddler son and elementary school-age daughter, told me how much she missed the age Remy is at because they don't move as fast and are so much easier to keep an eye on. She evidently missed the incident earlier when I looked away for 10 seconds to put something in the diaper bag and Remy crawled as fast as he could towards the brick ledge (it drops off down to the sand about 4 feet) and had to be rescued by a stranger. 10 seconds people. Another second and he would have been over the edge. O and Remy also tried to put every rock he could get his hands on at the beach in his mouth and cried when I took them away.

Yet all of these moments fade away when for a brief millisecond Remy rests his head on my shoulder when he is tired. Or when he plays with my hair when he is drinking his bottle (one of the only times he will sit with me). Or when he laughs his belly laugh because I do something silly to make him happy.