They Should Make a Patch for This


I swore I'd never use one. I didn't want to fall into the trap. I didn't want to deal with the fits, the tears, the withdrawal.

It was in the eighth month I made that declaration.

Then she was born. And I was so tired. And she wouldn't sleep or stop crying or eat. My husband had gone home for the night and I was having my first real moment of "What the hell did I do? Is it too late to send her back?" Against my better judgment and telling the voice in my head to shut up, I slid the green, hospital-provided binky into her mouth and all was right with the world again. In just a moment I was back in love with my baby and she was making these cute little sucky noises and she relaxed and she was happy. She still didn't sleep but at least she stopped crying.

(Good God, in that picture I look like one one of those people in the This is what happens when you use meth posters. Needless to say the pregnancy glow came out with the kids.)

Some of my favorite photos of our little turnip are the ones where she is smiling devilishly from behind a bink.

So here we are, at 2½, still rockin' the bink. C declared the binky would be gone after the new year. We started out slow, only letting her have it at certain times. I let C take the lead on this. I didn't want to take it away. I'm so weak, I can admit it. The binky was as soothing to me as it was to her. I was not looking forward to the begging, the crying, the pleading for the bink. Then the night came when C decided she would no longer have the bink.

It made me recall the anxiety I had on the first night we decided to do 'Cry It Out'. The knot in my stomach, the tension in my shoulders, the tear in my eye, the guilt and fear that I was ruining her forever and she would never trust me again. *Deep breath* But we did it. We read the bedtime story, had hugs and kisses, turned out the lights and walked out. In the dark in the hallway we hear a tiny voice.

 We wait in silence.

 "Mommy?………..I want my bink"

 I toss pleading eyes at the husband that say 'let's give it to her'

 Then the tears came.


And for the next 20 minutes or so there were tears, there was consoling and  explanations of how big girls don't need binkies and a trip to the potty. Then it was lights out again. We hugged and kissed and said goodnight. There we were in the dark hallway again, waiting.

 "I want my bink."

Then it was silence and she was asleep. Did we really just successfully take the binky away?

Yeah, not so much.

Telling the voice in my head to shut up, I slid the green, hospital-provided binky into her mouth and all was right with the world again.

Since then its been a daily routine of pleading for binkies, explaining why we don't use binkies, wash, rinse, repeat. And at one point, in a moment of sheer stupidity, I suggested to Izzy that Santa took her binkies back to the North Pole. As the words were leaving my mouth, it slowly dawned on me how infinitely stupid this was. The kid was already terrified of Santa and now he steals her binkies too? I quickly backpedaled and said that Santa just took them so that he could fix them and he would bring them back soon. She seemed pleased with that story and dropped the subject.

Just when I thought I was in the clear, she asks for the binky on the way to daycare the next day.

"I want my bink."

"Baby, I don't have your bink."

"Santa has it?"

"Uhhh…yeah…but he will bring it back. I will call him and he'll bring it back. But it might be a while – its a long trip from his house."

 "Ok…….I want a pink one."

And then for the remainder of the ride to daycare, she sat there and mumbled about her bink.

So for now, she thinks Santa is working on her binks. Hopefully Iz will forget about them in time. And Santa, you can keep those damn binks. I officially declare that future baby will not be getting a bink!

Kelly Jopson-Brown is a New Castle, DE mom. This post is adapted from her blog, TheTurnipFarmer. Follow her on Twitter @mommabrown08.


Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here