Emory has been sick. He got a cold the day before we left for Florida, kicked it the day before we headed back north, and then got another one from one of the 4 billion kids we saw while we were away. He’s been cranky.
Wiping his nose has become one of the most impossible tasks. It’s become such an ordeal, we basically don’t do it, which explains why we have a bunch of vacation pictures that show Emory’s face covered in dried snot.
Here’s a video of one of his smaller hissy-fits. Believe me, this is nothing compared to what it’s like when he’s really cranky.
It’s been a rough couple of days for this mother and son team. He’s been unbearably fussy and impossible to amuse for more than a minute at a time. Yesterday, after listening to him scream and fight sleep for almost an hour straight, I sat on the couch and cried into my egg salad sandwich. (Which was nice because I forgot to add salt and I was too lazy to get up and grab some.)
Wooden spoons seem to amuse him long enough for me to pee or brush my teeth. The picture below gave me mental chatter, a problem I have whenever I’m dead tired. I repeat phrases or words until I exhaust every syllable, sound, and approach every cadence. Yesterday, I must have said, “MY SPOON’S TOO BIG!” 4,000 times.
I think it’s time for some sleep training because I’m losing my mind. But I don’t know when or how to begin or if I have the stamina for it. Plus, every time I let him cry for a bit, the cats circle and howl because the shrill sound hurts their ears. Tucker has gone as far as to climb close to my face and touch my nose with his paw as if to say, “Please make the lambs stop screaming. Please?”
I read last night that you’re supposed to take away a baby’s pacifier at 4 months. Well, we missed that window of opportunity. (We read that they help with SIDs, so we left it in. Conflicting reports, as usual.) I’m having trouble deciding what to focus on first. Do I let him cry it out for sleep with the pacifier, which will be easier to deal with. Do I take the pacifier away and then let him cry it out later whenever he’s over the pacifier? Or do I do it all at once? If it’s the last option, I am going to need either a whole lot of booze or a whole lot of antidepressants.
The more I read about how to nurture (or train) a baby, the more I think that sometimes this educated woman/mother thing causes more of a headache than it helps. I am convinced that’s how mothers who are cruel to other mothers get to be that way. (i.e. When career-oriented women become mothers, they tend to educate themselves to the point of judgment. Suddenly, there are no longer raises or bonuses, bosses or coworkers telling them what a great job they’re doing, so they have to convince everyone and themselves how awesome they are on their own usually at someone else’s expense. This can take the form of a three-way call where one mother calls another mother while a third remains silent on the line and the called mother tells the instigator how horrible a mother the silent mother is.)
But I digress.
I realize that I will have to let him cry it out (and soon) because he needs to learn how to sooth himself but when I combine it with all the other things I’m supposed to do (or have done), I start to feel a little overwhelmed.
Mihow 
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