My Youngest

When I was carrying him, I knew he had a temper. If I was lying in some position that was uncomfortable, he didn't just flutter about in there and let me know. He did a Bruce Lee kick to my innards and by-golly I moved! He got the hiccups all the time when I was carrying him. As in ALL. THE. TIME.

He was so beautiful as a baby. Tow-headed, with big, round gray eyes. And then. Then.

He had colic. The only way we could get his screaming down an octave into the nearly-bearable range? We put Eddy Arnold on the stereo (loud), and rocked him like we were trying to power the city. His colicky screeching started at about 3 weeks old and continued, every night around 5:30 - 8:00  until he was 4 months old. By then, my rocking muscles were in tip-top shape. And he still hiccuped. He hiccuped when he cried. He hiccuped when he ate. He hiccuped when he laughed and he hiccuped when he burped. He hiccuped.

He was a clinger. He could handle being at home, or with Mommy. Daddy was marginal, at best. I kid you not here, we did not hire babysitters. We were convinced that we'd find him in the trash can when we came home, and the sitter intoxicated and wondering how she could get on with her life after the experience of sitting our child. Gawdamighty he was a challenge. Grandma wouldn't watch him.

He could go from smiling to purple-pissed-off in the blink of an eye. He had a vein in his forehead that bulged and pulsed when he cried, giving strangers the urge to call paramedics.

Somehow, that screaming, hot-tempered, demon-spawn baby turned into a handsome, calm, funny, even-tempered, witty and cheerful man. Who still gets the hiccups all the time.

I can't begin to guess how it is possible. But it's true. If he'd have been our first baby, there probably wouldn't have been a second, he was a baby that terrible. And now? He's a joy and a ray of sunshine every day.

God works in mysterious ways. :-D