2 and a half

Audrey without a pacie?

Uttering those words once makes me want to utter them again, because I'm incredulous. Could it be true? Audrey has given up her pacie?

Repeating the phrase reminds me of the scene from 1984's Muppets Take Manhattan when Kermit and Miss Piggy are to be wed:

Bear 1: "Sombody's getting married?"

Bear 2: "Somebody's getting married? HEY, somebody's getting married!"

Bear 3: "Whoa, somebody's getting married!"

Pops: "Somebody's getting married??"

Lew Zealand: "Somebody's getting marrrieeeed!"

Group: "Somebody's getting married!" And so on. Until the entirely of the muppet world is chiming in.

I can hear it now:

Dad: "Audrey without a pacie?"

Mom: "Audrey without a pacie!"

Grace: "Audrey without a pacie??? HEY, don't take away MY pacie!"

Extended family: "Audrey without a paaaacieeee!!!"

Yes, the inveterate search for pacies in the middle of the night in our house may be at its end. The subtle but constant sucking noise may abate, and perhaps entirely if we can wean Grace off too. 

Advice to parents: Don't start your child on a pacie after age 2, which is what we permitted Audrey to do. And if your baby uses one, stop before age 2. It becomes more of an addiction versus a pacifier seemingly akin to (dare I say it?) a smoking habit. I don't think Audrey has an addictive personality, mind you - just a strong one.

How did this come about?

Yesterday Audrey announced unequivocally that she was giving up her pacie. Cold turkey, clean break, no detox required. I was taken back by her declaration since this was not to have occurred until her 4th birthday but she clearly wants to take the bull by the horns. I gave her a high-five and a hug and told her I was proud.

At bedtime,though, her resolve began to show some cracks. A great many of them, in fact. And no matter what we said to her, she cried.

"Do you want to read a book Audrey?" I asked. "A book?? Oh noooo, not a book... NO! I don't want to read a book," was her tearful reply. No distraction was good enough.

To her credit, she had overheard mommy saying that the pet dog belonging to her cousins needs to be euthanized due to illness - she picked up on that like a bloodhound and it considerably worsened her grief-stricken state.

But as time wore on she grew tired and fell asleep - without her pacie.

It may be the case that she hasn't done that in 2 years. Hard to say for sure, but I'd bet on it.

I'm proud of her. Tonight there will be tears again, but slightly less so. And tomorrow and the next day less again. Until her pacie is a distant memory.

Audrey without a pacie has a nice ring to it.

Audrey's addiction

We have restricted Audrey's pacie usage to night time only, although she tries her hardest to feed her addiction during the day.

Daddy: "Audrey, put your pacie away, you don't need it."

Audrey: "But I DO need it. I can't breathe without it."

Daddy: "You can't breathe? I'm sure that's not the case. In fact you can probably breathe better without it."

Audrey: "But I NEED it!"

Daddy: "Put your pacie away right now or you won't have it tonight."

Audrey: "Okay... But can I have just one more suck?"

Daddy: "Um, sure."

Finding pacies

As I've written, Audrey loves her pacie. We've been trying to wean her off of it for some time and so she doesn't get one at all during the day. I mean, she's 3 1/2 for crying out loud. She'll get out of bed and head downstairs with it still in her mouth and will put up a fight about taking it out but ultimately it's either she puts the pacie on the kitchen counter or heads back upstairs to her bedroom. And she generally complies if it comes to that.

For awhile we were getting her to put the pacie in her bedside table drawer but she generally refuses to do that now in the name of keeping the darn thing in her mouth for just a few minutes longer. I guess it's like chewing gum for another moment or two to get that last bit of flavor. And sometimes she'll put it in one of the kitchen drawers instead of on the counter which means at bedtime we end up in a frantic search for the pacie. Her memory is excellent so I'm pretty sure she always knows where it is - it's just that she likes watching mommy and daddy get frustrated searching for it.

But the best is when she is asleep in her bed and the pacie has fallen out of her mouth, which it usually does after she is completely zonked out. And then she wakes up in the middle of the night and we hear, "where's my PACIE!!!" as if her life depended on it. And if we don't respond the yelling will escalate until Grace is woken up and we suddenly have a house full of tired, irritable parents and yelling and crying babies.

When one of us heads into her room to find the pacie it is almost never far away. It may be under a pillow or beneath the sheets or something but if she'd only spend 3 seconds looking for it she'd find it. But it doesn't matter - it could be floating in front of her face in full view and she still wouldn't "find" it. This is where the princess side of Audrey shows itself I guess because mommy or daddy must provide the pacie to her in order to stop the ruckus. And then it's back to sleep as if nothing happened - for Audrey at least. The other members of the household have to crawl back into bed and find their way back to sleep and if Grace is awake you can write off the next 20 minutes of sleep at least. 

One of these days the pacie will be gone entirely but Audrey can be a tough cookie. She's back in her bed now which is good and I think the pacie will be the next transition. The fact that Grace has one doesn't help though. Perhaps we'll have to bribe her with jelly beans (more on that later perhaps) to break her of it. In the meantime we're spending part of each day finding pacies.

The mankey and the pacie

Remember Linus from the Peanuts cartoons? Audrey loves her blanket about as much as good 'ole Linus does. She loves it so much, in fact, that we got her 2 identical blankets in the event one happens to be MIA at any critical moment when she needs it most. (It helps to have at least 2 of lots of things when you're a parent.) 

When Audrey first started talking she struggled with the letter "b" so she called it her "mankey." Now that she is verbally proficient she says the word correctly; mom and dad, not being able to let go of the past, continue to call it mankey.

Audrey loves to smell her mankey almost as much as she likes to carry it around. She takes her 2 little mitts and just holds it against her face, taking it in. It has that certain baby smell to it that just hasn't gone away as she's gotten older, even despite many trips through the washing machine. It's faded and so soft that, quite frankly, I've been thinking of getting one myself.

Her other addiction (we all have 'em) is her pacifier. In fact she's the only 2 year old I know who started using a pacifier when she turned 2. She calls it her "pacie" and, at any given time, there are usually 7 or 8 of them scattered about the house. And while her 2 mankeys are interchangeable, her pacies are not. Like a clothing accessory, she is quite particular about which one she is using when.

How are these seemingly disparate objects intertwined? Well, Audrey can't smell her mankey without her pacie in her mouth. She has told us the same many times. I, for one, can't figure it out, but one of the reasons I write these posts is to force me to think through the quandaries presented by my little girls.

I can tell you that most of what we perceive as taste is actually due to our sense of smell. (Think about how well you taste things when you have a head cold.) But in this case does blocking her little taste buds with that pacie help her smell better? Or, weirder yet, is she "tasting" her mankey?

Such are the questions on the minds of dads everywhere. And I'm not sure we'll ever know.

Evolution in action

For 2-year olds, everything seems a dilemma. Something as simple as a ball rolling under a couch and out of reach can present the most dire problem they have ever faced. While simple to us, to them it seems like the most tragic thing ever.

When they ask if they can have a sucker, it's not a "yes-or-no" question. It's a demand disguised as a question and there is no logical response awaiting yours, only an emotional one. A "yes" will provoke excitement and eagerness, while a "no" will provoke a tantrum akin to Mount Everest erupting.

At bedtime, if the door isn't cracked to the perfect degree to let the perfect amount of light in, 2-year-olds don't express indifference. They express frustration and yelling until it's the way they want it, even if the difference between 40 and 45 degrees wide isn't much.

When it comes to a pacifier, the difference between the blue one and the green one is huge. The blue one means happiness, while the green one means hell. The former induces pacification, while the latter induces a fit of tears. They are exactly the same, but for the color, but a 2-year-old knows one is much better than the other. Even more interesting, tomorrow that may change.

When it comes to eating chicken tenders, toothpicks may mean the difference between a well-fed toddler and a cranky, hungry one. A fork may not be satisfactory - after all, toothpicks are fancy because they are served with hors d'oeuvres.

And winter time certainly doesn't mean a 2-year-old wears a coat. On the contrary, it's important to fight the noble cause if mom or dad wants you to do something, even if it's at the risk of a nasty cold. And winter shoes? Well, the color and style matter a lot. The purple snow boots may be appropriate for a clear, perfect day, while the black leather Mary Jane's will certainly work on days with a foot of snow on the ground.

It's evolution in action. And every day is a joy.

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