Bye Bye Binkie

Once we got to church on Sunday we realized we forgot The Binkie.  I cannot really explain the level of panic that every member of our family felt when we realized we didn't have it.  If both The Coach and I weren't teaching in church that day, we would have honestly left and gone home.  

That's how bad Bo has it for The Binkie.  

Binkie's can be all right.  They serve a great purpose in soothing a fussy baby, and we all know I have a fussy baby.  Shandi was our only other Binkie baby, and she was fine with it.  She handled herself with as much grace and class as a baby with a Binkie could, and it wasn't ever a real problem.  She used it at night, and would reach for it when she was super fussy, and that's it.  I took it from her at a year old and she couldn't have cared less.  

So yeah, let's talk about Bo.  

"Hi.  My name is Bo, and I'm an addict.  A grouchy, mad addict.  I use my Binkie 24 hours a day and seven days a week.  I keep it in my mouth constantly unless I'm eating, and then I hold it in my right hand until I'm done eating with the left so I can get it back in my mouth as quickly as possible.  Sometimes I even chew my food with it in my mouth.  But I NEVER, EVER, put it down.  Talk?  No.  I stopped talking because it's hard to talk with my Binkie in my mouth.  At night, I spit it out when I fall into a deep sleep, and then I wake myself up as soon as I do.  I scream and scream until my Mom gets up and puts it back into my mouth for me, and that happens at least ten times per night.  I also use it as a weapon.  If my Bubs or Jack-Jack or even Mom is bugging me I take it out of my mouth ever so briefly and whack them with it in the face."

So, yeah.  It's become a problem.  I already posted in his last birthday post that he would be broken of it before his one year birthday.  That time is looming ahead very quickly.  I'm not gonna lie, I was scared.   And honestly, when we got to church and realized we had forgotten it, I hadn't planned on that being IT.  But once we saw how horrible he was without it, I figured I might as well go ahead and get it over with.  By the time we had gotten home from church, it had been eight solid hours without it.  No sense going back, I figured.  So we all made the decision that the days of The Binkie were over.  

Holy cow was this baby MAD.  Anybody that came into contact with him at church on Sunday will attest that he was a hot mess.  And boy can he throw a tantrum.  

And boy was he mad at me.  It's like he knew it was my fault.  He wouldn't go to anybody accept his Dad that first day.  He was miserable the whole day.  He finally fell asleep briefly on his Dad, but that was short-lived.

We kept him as busy as we could that first day, but I could always feel bedtime looming in the distance.  I already knew that was going to be horrible.  And boy he did NOT disappoint.  It wasn't just the crying.  He literally had the cold sweats.  He was shaking.  He was truly a terrible mess.  And no, that didn't make me want to give in.  That solidified my resolve in getting him broken of the habit now rather than later.  

So, let me tell you a sea story.  One time back in probably 1991, we were in Guam.  Guam is HOT.  Not Tennessee hot, but hell hot.  And every six months in the Navy, you have to run a physical exercise test.  We were scheduled to run ours while we were there in Guam, and the start time was at 6 AM because of the aforementioned hell hotness of Guam.  While the older and more mature Sailors were in bed early to prep for said test, the young and invincible group of Sailors that I was a part of were in the club dancing and partying our faces off.  At one point someone looked at the clock and we realized it was after 3AM.  We needed to make a decision.  Go back to the ship and get a couple hours of sleep, or just party till it was time to take the test?  It was a pretty easy decision to make in the mental condition we were in, and we just stayed till 5:30 then high tailed it over to the test before it started.  OK, so let's set the stage.  There were about twenty young Sailors that showed up to take this test directly from the club.  It was hot, we were for all intents and purposes pretty drunk.  (It was the early 1990's, nobody cared and that's how young Sailors did business back in those days.  The term "drunken Sailor" isn't derived from fictional stories, that I can promise you.)  Anyway, we were also in "club clothes".  I remember my friends and I looking at each other and laughing because we were about to have to do sit ups, pushups, and run 1 1/2 miles in mini-skirts and either heels or sandals.  By the time the test started, we were starting to feel more than slightly hungover.  And tired.  And unwell.  And it was HOT.  I remember very vividly that 1 1/2 mile run, and I remember kicking my sandals off about halfway through and finishing the run on the hot pavement in bare feet.  We all finished, and we all passed.  Needless to say we all learned a lesson and never tried that again.  After I woke up from a nap I felt like I had been hit by a cement truck.  Nothing could ever compare to that feeling.

Except the first night of Bo sleeping without his Binkie.  Yes, for the first time since that terrible morning in 1991, I found something comparable.  

The Coach:  "That was a really rough night.  I feel BAD today.  I'm so tired."

Me:  "Me too.  My head hurts.  I'm SO tired.  I haven't felt this bad since that one time in Guam…."

Yeah, that's how bad that first night was.  He cried all night, and not only did he cry, but he was fairly violent.  Hitting, scratching, biting.  

This is a picture of him straight up attacking Jack the next morning after he woke up.  And I use the term woke up very loosely, because he really didn't sleep.

Poor baby.  Sad face.   He spent hours that day walking around screaming for his "Inkie".  Behind the couch, in the closets, everywhere.  Thank goodness he didn't ever find one.  

Day two was rough too, but far less rough than day one.  On day two he only got fussy or mad when it was nap time.  Playtime was fine.  We were making progress.  

He actually smiled when he woke up on Day 3.

And today, which is the fourth day, he is back to his old smiley self again.  He slept much better last night, and didn't even cry himself to sleep. He woke up happy, and gave Jack a big hug.  He hasn't called for his Inkie yet, either.

I'm so glad that is over with.  I've been dreading this evolution for months.  One thing is for certain, if I could go back to birth, I wouldn't have ever let him have it to begin with.  I know lots of parents that use and love Binkie's, and their children use them responsibly.  But my boy was not a social user.  He was an addict.  Poor little guy.  Did I mention how happy I am that this is over with?

Next step will be getting him to sleep in a big boy bed like his brothers when we move.  I don't think that will be too much trouble, he loves his brothers and especially story time with Justice!