The art of second-guessing

Two nights ago, we had a major meltdown in this house. I'm talking about a four-hour, no-holds-barred scream-fest. (And, no, it wasn't Chad.)

I've rationally been telling myself during the fussy moments that when the baby is crying, he's just trying to tell me something. There's a problem and my job is to figure out what it is, then solve it. (I've also been reminding myself in these moments that this, too, shall pass.) But this was not fussiness - this was a full-out tantrum in every sense of the word. And in the midst of this 180-minute ordeal - though it's not like I was counting - I attempted to determine the following:

• Was it something I ate? (And if so, what was it? Turkey? Potatoes? Milk? That soda? The list goes on...and on...really...) And if it was something I ate, just let me figure out what it was and Dear Lord I promise not to do that again!
• Is he gassy?
• Is he tired?  Did he sleep too much?
• Did he go too long without a feeding this afternoon?
• Is he hot? Cold? Wet?
• Maybe he's overstimulated
• Does he want to be put down? Swaddled? (The answer to both was a definitive NO.)
• Does he want to be held?
• Is he sick?
• Did that trip to the store set him over the edge?
• Perhaps he wants to be held this way...or this way...or this way...
• Is he hungry? Is he eating too much?
• Is he mad at me?

Chad and I are both fairly level-headed people, believing that there is an explanation for everything. But in this case, there seemed to be no explanation. Jackson was just mad at the world.

Finally, we gave up with the second-guessing and game of questions. Jackson was eventually talked down from his ledge with a lot of rocking, singing and patience. We reminded ourselves that there is no way he'll ever remember this, even though we felt like complete garbage at the time. (To be fair, I imagine the experience wasn't so much fun for him either.)

The last several days have been much better and we're chalking up Jackson's little tirade to an innate need that we all have to just burn off a little steam every now and then. And even though his outburst tested my patience (and Chad's, and my mom's, and maybe even the neighbors'), you sure forget about it when he wakes up the next morning bright-eyed and happy. This little boy melts my heart. How could I stay frustrated at this face?