operation: binky be gone

For the last few months I have been growing increasingly disgusted with Garrett's binky habit. Unfortunately, over the same period of time, Garrett had been growing increasingly attached to it. A few days after returning home from our trip to Utah in early April, I decided it was time to cut all ties. I was tired of the drool, the whining when he couldn't find it, and, because he'd gnaw and chew on it more than he'd suck, it was quickly becoming a choking hazard. So we went cold turkey. For all intents and purposes, the binky had been thrown in the trash.

We stuck it out for four sleepless nights and long, exhausting days. And then we couldn't take it anymore. Hindsight makes me realize that, what with the bronchitis he'd caught while we were out of town and the resulting clinginess he developed while he was sick, it was not a good time to take away something so dear to him. So the binky magically reappeared and all was well again with Garrett's world. I did, however, require that, if he was going to have his binky, he could only have it in the crib. Garrett was fine with this stipulation; he'd leave it behind each morning and after his naps. Eventually, though, he'd started to spend more of his days in the crib with his binky than out of it being a normal toddler, and when he nearly completely chewed through another nipple, I knew it was time to try weaning him again.

Last Tuesday morning, after Garrett chucked his binky behind him as I retrieved him from the crib, I took it and hid it away. Naptime rolled around and while I tried to tuck him in, he frantically searched for his binky. I told him once that it must be lost, gave him only his silky blanket (his binky's partner in crime) for comfort, told him to sleep well, and left the room. After that, we didn't use the "B" word anymore. If Garrett asked for it, we pretended to not know what he wanted and would then change the subject. It took him a good hour, and, ultimately, some lullaby music, for him to settle down for that nap. When he awoke a couple hours later, I found him tearing apart the contents of his crib, searching again for his lost binky.

Bedtime that evening was a repeat of that afternoon's performance. Garrett searched and begged for his binky; Blake and I took turns tucking him in, making an extra effort to not talk about what he obviously wanted most. He eventually wore himself out and fell asleep to the lullabies. He awoke once, in the middle of the night, panicked that he didn't have his binky. I went to him, offered him a drink of water (which he accepted), and tucked him back in amid more lullabies. He fell right to sleep (and as he did, I silently praised the miracles that lullaby album was working, which my friend, JoEllen, gave us at Garrett's birth).

Day Two was similar to Day One. By Day Three, however, he started to forget about his binky. He stopped asking for it, and he fell into sleep routines that were much like those of his binky-filled days. By the weekend I was ready to diagnose him as weaned. The true test came on Sunday when, to calm him during Sacrament Meeting, we pulled out his silky blanket. Instead of reaching for the pocket of my bag where his emergency binky used to be stashed, he cuddled into his blanket and settled down.

And now I have a binky-free little boy, and I'm loving every bit of it. We still don't use the "B" word in his presence, and I probably should go find the remaining few that I hid away and just toss them (deep, deep into the garbage can) so that he doesn't accidentally find them and reverse all of our hard work. With time, I'm sure he'll recover completely from his addiction.

Do I regret giving him, and ultimately letting him get hooked on, a binky? Am I planning to give one to Number Two? In answer, no, not a bit, and yes, if he'll take one. That said, however, I would do a few things differently had I but known. Garrett didn't start growing super fond of his binky until he was about 18 months or so. If I had said goodbye to the binkies at the same time I said goodbye to his bottles, it would not have been so difficult a process. But you live and learn, right? And then you do things differently the next time around.