A few weeks ago a friend told me that her son got a small staph infection from his pacifier after having a bad cold. I made the mistake of sharing this anecdote with Peter who immediately decided it was time to throw Baylie’s “minkies” out the door.
While I know that at some point she was going to have to give up the pacifier, I just figured it was something we would do when she was, like, 10. So I held him off for about 2 weeks but lost the battle this past weekend. I had to agree that it wasn’t the worst idea to get rid of them – I was just afraid of the aftermath.
Aaaannnddd I was right.
After nap time on Saturday, Peter got a big envelope and wrote “For the Babies” on the outside. Then Bay got to add her personal touch and one by one, add the pacifiers to the envelope. She was happy to pack 7 of them away, but hesitated on the last one. After gentle encouragement from Daddy, she happily added the last one. They sealed it up and put it in the mailbox. All we had to do now was wait for the inevitable meltdown.
That night was rough getting her to sleep, but not the end of the world. She fussed a little during the night, but for the most part, it was not the end of the world. She did cry for several minutes saying “buuhh bbbyyyeeeee!!!! buh byeeee!!!” in the saddest voice I’ve ever heard. It was killing me. The solution to her pain was a mere 5 feet away in the mailbox outside the front door and I couldn’t get it for her. I was dying. But she quickly calmed down with a rock and a kiss and then slept semi well.
The big issue was nap time on Sunday. I knew it was going to be ugly, I just didn’t know how ugly it could be. I again rocked her to sleep and then put her down only to watch her pop back up a second later. We decided to let her cry it out for 10 minutes. At 4 minutes, I was concerned about the sounds that were coming out of B’s little mouth so I went into check on her. Apparently in an act of opposition, Bay had torn off her diaper and proceeded to pee all over her crib. A.MA.ZING. Peter continued to rock her in the bedroom while I stripped down her bed. An additional hour of rocking and she finally went down and stayed down. Sheesh.
Sunday night I was not up for the fight and was this close to giving in and getting the minkies out of the mailbox. Thankfully Peter’s competitiveness outweighed his exhaustion so he took over the downing process. There was the typical fussing and then silence. He exited her room and there was still silence. I was so grateful, but not amazed. Peter has had the ability to calm the kiddo since the second she was born. She was all screams when she was carried to the side of the delivery room to be weighed and measured and it wasn’t until Peter leaned down and whispered to her that she was quiet. When I asked what his secret was for getting her to calm down this time, he said that he simply made her look him in the eye while he told her that she was a big girl and that she could go to sleep without a pacifier. She responded “noooo” and so he repeated himself. She then responded “ok” and laid down in her crib. Done and done. Daddy does it again!
Nap time today was rough. The kid has some amazing lungs. A few minutes of quiet time, 10 minutes of crying followed by 10 minutes of rocking and she was out. This is a significant improvement over yesterday so I’m thinking by Friday, we should be in a good place. I’m pushing the blankie and a stuffed animal of her choice so that she gets attached to one of them. As someone who had her yellow satin blankie until she was 11 years old and took Foofur the dog with her to college, I think these are safer options. People might laugh if she has a pacifier. But a stuffed dog is always in style.