The Pacifier Thief

You know that road to hell?  You know, the one paved with good intentions?  Well, I’m on it.

We’ve created an addicted monster!  And lack of sleep is starting to turn me into one.  Do you think there’s one of those twelve-step programs for babies?

My intentions were honorable, I swear.

My two daughters both sucked their fingers.  Madison sucked her thumb.  Since her friends will possibly read this post, I won’t say how old she was when she finally stopped.  Let’s just leave it at too old.  Ebony still sucks her two fingers when she gets sleepy.  She’s only six, so we’ll cut her some slack.  Neither of them wanted anything to do with a pacifier.

When Daniel came along, he was already sucking a pacifier.  I guess some explanation is required there.  No, he did not come out of the womb sucking a pacifier!  He did, however, come from the foster home at 1-1/2 weeks old already sucking a pacifier.  We are adopting him.  My thinking was, “I can’t take fingers away but, I can take a pacifier away.”  This was logical thinking, right?  It made perfect sense to me… at the time.

However…

Now that he’s almost two, it’s time to actually take it away.  It’s not quite as easy as I thought it would be.  Actually, we might as well be taking his fingers away, by the way he cries about it.

We’ve tried a couple of times before, but half-heartedly.  I would take his paci away and tell everyone not to give it back.  Ten minutes later, he would come out of his room with another one in his mouth.  I would take that one away, with much drama and fussing, to only have him show up half an hour later with another one.

He apparently anticipated this problem and has accumulated back-ups stashed in various household hidey-holes.  I’ve seen him pull them out of the trunk of his Fisher-Price car, out of Ebony’s Barbie house, out from between his mattress and the side of his bed, and out from under his car seat in my car. I finally gave up when he kept showing up with another one.

Last night, his paci dropped on the floor and he brought it to me to wash off.  When I looked at it, it had a big hole in the nipple of it where he had almost bit it in half.  He must be teething again.  Great…  Well, I couldn’t give it back to him like that so I threw it in the trash.  Then, I couldn’t find another one.  He couldn’t either.  He must have exhausted his emergency supply.  Everyone in the house spent a good 20 minutes looking for another paci.  I finally said, “Stop, this is ridiculous.  He’s getting too old for a paci, anyway!”

So, that was the start of our first night without a paci.  It did not go well.  It took forever to get him to sleep and he woke me up several times during the night saying, “Paci, Mommy?”

This morning, he was up at 5:00 am, looking again for one of his pacifiers.  He was pulling all the toys out the toy boxes.  He was going around the house looking under all the couches and chairs.  He practically tore the house up like a crack-fiend who needed a fix!  When he realized he wasn’t going to get one, the meltdown began.  Tears, tears, and more tears…

In a way, I feel bad about it because I know he’s miserable.  On the other hand, I know it’s only going to be harder to do it later.  So, the pacifier is officially gone.  I know the next few days (and nights) are going to be very rough, but he’ll live and so will we (I hope).

I hate being the bad guy, stealing a poor baby’s paci!  But, I guess it’s better than being the Mom whose 4th Grader still sucks a binkie.

 Brook

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