Oops...

  I've made a huge mistake. Caleb's name should be Phineas. That way, we could call him Phineas Fussypants. Trust me--he earns that name at times.

  I don't know if there's anything more frustrating than a fussy baby.  He doesn't all-out cry very often, but he gets fussy when he's hungry.  Usually, this is when I am holding him, and the Good Lord did not design my body to be able to meet his hunger.  This does not stop him from trying to nurse on my knee when he's laying on my lap, but so far this has not proved an effective feeding technique.  If that changes, look for me on several morning television shows.

  So Caleb will get hungry, and he'll start to fuss.  Rachel is often resting at this point, and because she needs to rest and Caleb needs to be on some semblance of a schedule, I'll try and soothe him for a bit while she rests.  Try is the optimal word here--often, he is not that interested in being soothed.  I'll make sure his diaper is clean, and I'll swaddle him and rock him and assure him that all is well, but he has one interest--food--and I'm not meeting it, so he'll fuss.  And fuss.  And fuss.  And then he'll fuss some more.

  And it tries my patience.  It's not terrible at 3 in the afternoon, but when it's 11:00 at night and I'm tired and want him to be tired, it's just frustrating.  I pray for patience, and I stare at him and remind myself how much I love him.  Fussy babies aren't much fun, but I just have to remember that he has no better way to express his needs.  If writing sonnets would get him fed, I'm sure he would do that, but sonnets are a bit beyond his abilities right now (as far as I know), so he just fusses, and I pray, and somehow we make it through it.

  But perhaps it would be a little easier if I could call him Phineas Fussypants.