Twenty Four Hours Of Awesomeness!

Day care has a way with transitions, and I will miss letting them do some of the dirty work after I become a stay at home mom.

I had told day care on Wednesday night that I didn't want Andy having his binky at all during the day, not even for napping.  With the napping, I gave them some flexibility- if he NEEDS it and is really inconsolable, then, yeah, go ahead.  The teachers replied, "Okay, got it, no more binky," and we went home.  Andy had it for bed and a half hour or so before dinner time, but when he woke up, I made him trade it with me for his milk and then did not give it back after he had finished his drink and started asking, "My?  My!"  Instead, we kind of ignored the request and took him to day care, where- bless those women- he had a binky-free day, including for his nap.

"How did he do?"  I asked the one teacher upon pick up time, expecting to hear the worst.

"Fine," she said.  "Cold turkey's the way to go. He asked for it a couple times, we just distracted him, and then he was so tired at nap time he basically passed out without it."

"AWESOME," I replied, holding back the urge to kiss the teacher.  Andy and I got his bag and coat and headed out into the world.  I had a sinking feeling in my stomach that the rest of the night was not going to be quite as binky-less, but I decided that I was just going to do my best.  I had stopped at the dollar store on the way home and picked up a couple of new objects to keep Andy occupied- a slinky, a colorful bag of art supply puffs, an alphabet puzzle, a new music CD, some more play dough (they can't call it Play Doh for obvious legal reasons), and a bunch of stickers.  I was on a Distraction Mission, and was going to try my hardest to succeed- but not beat myself up if the evening did not go as planned.

We pulled into the garage, where, upon releasing Andy from his car seat, he bolted to the front of the car, plopped himself into the drivers seat, and put his hands on the steering wheel to simulate driving.  He had done this on Tuesday, and when I took him out of the front seat, he had thrown a major fit which included biting me and had ended in a time out- which had then resulted in him being so upset that he was utterly inconsolable until he could find his pacifier.  Looking at him in the front seat, I decided to let him stay there a few minutes as to hopefully avoid the tantrum, which would then maybe avoid the post-tantrum binky need.  Besides, it's not like he could reasonably, accidentally drive the car right into the house or back down the driveway or anything.  I assumed.

So, in the spirit of thinking ahead, letting Andy have his way, trying to avoid a melt down, and keeping the ultimate goal in mind, I let Andy "drive" the car until finally the timed light in the garage when out and we were bathed in darkness.  At that point, he reached for me, and we went inside to the tune of Andy murmuring "Vroom Vroom!"  He is very good at making car noises and pointing out all the various cars he sees.  I think I may have the next Henry Ford or Peter Honda on my hands.

Our usual routine involves me sitting with Andy on the sofa for a little bit while he has some water or juice and we "unwind" with a little Sesame Street or Caillou.  Then I leave him there to finish watching his show while I get dinner ready.  This is about the time he starts asking for his binky.  So the plan?  No TV tonight.  Nothing that would remind him of the routine.  Now, I know that technically kids aren't supposed to watch television until they're two anyways, but I appreciate not being judged by you unless you're a full time working, pregnant mom who also has to figure out time when to make dinner, clean the house, use the bathroom, and do their kegels.  Also, I'd like to point out that I was basically raised by the television, and my attention span has turned out to be... hey, look, cupcakes!

So, instead, we got out the lap top, and Andy watched Sesame Street on that instead, on his little table, and sitting in his little chair.  Again, no judging.  It sounds like it's the same thing as just watching TV, but it's totally, kind of not. Andy LOVES the computer.  The other day I caught him playing Daddy in Chris' office- sitting in Chris' chair, banging on Chris' keyboard, and pretend slurping out of an empty Dr. Pepper can that Chris had left on his desk.  Computers are FUN!  And Dr. Pepper is damn delicious.

I snuck away just long enough to toss dinner in the oven (stuffed shells and garlic bread, could there be a better dinner for a family for under eight bucks and involving almost zero effort?  I submit that there could not!), and then I was all about Andy.  We watched some Sesame Street together, Andy thoroughly enjoying Feist's children's version of "1-2-3-4"  (One, two, three, four, penguins standing by the door. I love counting, counting to the number four!).  Then we did some tickling, got out the slinky, which amused Andy greatly, threw the puffs all over the floor in great excitement (which was how I had correctly assumed we'd use them), and by that time, Chris was home, dinner was ready, and it was already almost six.



Dinner went great, as it always does when we have something ricotta-filled, and then after dinner, I sat on the floor and played with Andy, getting up only to fetch him cookies when he asked.  I had recently been able to convince Andy that rice cakes were cookies, which is pretty brilliant on my part, and I let him have as many of them as he wants as long as it's post-dinner.  Of course, I should disclose that the rice cakes are chocolate flavored, but there is literally only five grams of sugar in SEVEN little rice cakes, and even Andy can't eat seven rice cakes.

Although, last night I think he did eat four, which is kind of a lot.  He just kept asking... and it was keeping his mouth busy... so it was all good as far as I was concerned.  Plus, every time he wanted a rice cake, he also wanted to bring one to Chris, and this lesson of sharing that he's learned with his "cookies" is a pretty good one.  So Chris had four chocolate rice cakes, too.  And I may have had two or three.  I also had six real cookies after Andy went to bed, but that's neither here nor there.

After playing and cookie eating, we had a grand old time in the bathtub.  I sang "Three Blind Mice" no less than fifteen times as that has become a new favorite song for Andy to hear while he takes a bath.  I let him stay in the tub for as long as he wanted and then read his favorite books before bed time while he drank his milk.  I started feeling very, very nervous about what was about to happen.  Is he going to start demanding his binky?  Is this going to work?  At what point am I going to get up and go find it for him?

We finished reading, he asked for his daddy, and Chris came in for his night time hug.... and put Andy down... without the binky... and he slept like that all night long.

Holy.  Shit.  I can't believe that worked.

This morning, he had his milk, fussed like usual during his diaper change, and I made it a point to pretty much rush him to day care before he could get bored and start asking for it.  By that time- we had hit the twenty-four hour mark.  And, may I just say, I feel like a million bucks.  I know he won't have it today at day care (I love day care), tonight should be easy enough to keep him distracted, and by the time tomorrow, Saturday, rolls around, hopefully he'll be okay without it since, at that point, it'll be forty-eight hours since he's had it.

Wow.

I'm just so thrilled about this.  And now that I know Andy can go a full day, I know that there's no going back, and that I have to be strong.  It's over.  I really think it is, unless I'm a total idiot and have forgotten to hide one or cave in for some horrible reason.  I should probably stop for some more chocolate rice cakes on the way home tonight, though, don't you think?

So, to summarize, here's the secret to the first full day of no binkies:

Have day care do the dirty work during the day.

Buy your kid a bunch of interesting crap from the dollar store.

Don't let him sit on the comfy sofa where he usually likes to chill with his pacifier.

Let him have "cookies" and pretend to drive the car.

Make your husband put him down to bed after an evening in which you've gone out of your way to make sure Andy is the happiest kid on the block.

Celebrate a huge success by eating six real cookies after your wonderful little son has fallen asleep.

And don't forget to give your kid some credit (and yourself too) when you start feeling downtrodden and depressed about a difficult parenting task, such as binky removal.