Parenting... The First Year

Cash was difficult from the moment I found out I was pregnant. I had a few problems early on which made him my problem child.

He was the first grandchild on both sides and the first great-grandchild on the Martino's side. Everyone drooled over him "He's so beautiful! Look at that hair!" Yea spend more than a fucking hour with him. Better yet come back around 4:45pm right when the show is about to start.

When Cash came home he cried. Every second of every day. Around 5-6pm the crying got louder and more annoying. The only way to shut his ass up was to sit in the sweltering summer heat by the AC unit. He probably felt defeat because it was the one thing that was louder than him. The kid had colic. Not only did he have colic, I got a double whammy and he had acid reflux. He threw up exorcism style a million times a day. I didn't have enough bibs to keep on him. Shit neither did Target. When we went out I had to carry 3 bags just to make sure I had enough clothes and bibs because we were going to have to change him a minimum of 3 times. In one hour.My fondest memory of colic was sitting on the rocking chair while he's screaming his head off. I held him face to face, screamed and cried with him, he definitely wasn't expecting that. "Why don't you like me? I gave you life?" I called my mother, she came in under 5 minutes, I went upstairs, got my shit together and came back down for round 2.

Enter Dr Mark Delmonte, chiropractor. My savior, my hero. He was treating my sister Courtney and asked how we were doing. She told him about the endless crying, barfing and my desire to escape to Alaska. His response, "Bring him to me." Cash went to him every day for a week, then every other day, then every few days. Within the first week he was a normal human. Such a difference. I actually liked him again! Once we got through the "I'm the King I'm going to fuck your life up more than you know" phase, it was smooth sailing. Until those terrible fucking twos...