The Pacifier Intervention

I'm no Dr. Drew. I have zero experience as an interventionist. BUT I did used to smoke a pack a day for about 10 years AND watch a lot of reality tv so I knew we had an addict on our hands. Last week we decided to go cold turkey on the pacis. Poor little buddy didn't see it coming. Even I didn't quit smoking cold turkey. I needed an anti-anxiety pill for 6 weeks to get me through the withdrawals. That pill would have come in handy for Sawyer.

A little history, Sawyer was a tough baby. I threw a soothie in his mouth on day 1...mostly because he was so freaking loud. I needed a plug to drown out the screaming. Who knew 3 yrs later he'd be a full-blown paci addict? Once he turned one, we implemented the "MUST leave home WITHOUT it" rule. He did well with that. He only got the paci when he was in his crib. Piece of cake. At two, the dentist said we were screwing up his teeth and we needed to go cold turkey. The kid sucked on the thing so hard that he was starting to look like a Brit. Ugh.

Fast forward to last week and things had taken a turn for the worse. Instead of learning to live without it, he was becoming more dependent on it. He'd ask for it earlier and earlier each night. And then, the last two weeks he started waking up in the middle of the night when he couldn't find it in his sheets {remember we switched him from crib to bed about two weeks ago...shit!}. The end came on Monday night when Eric got up at 3 am and physically had to move the bed away from the wall in order to rescue the paci from the depths of the gap between the wall and the bed.

So we took him to Disneyland {California Adventure}. It was raining. We had the brilliant idea to let him hand the pacis over to Mickey Mouse...Mickey was such a nice guy, he was going to give them to the babies that needed them. Makes sense, right!? Two problems arose when we got there...first, Sawyer loves Mickey but he wants nothing to do with the characters at Disney. Watching them on TV is just fine with him. {Not sure how we managed to forget this small piece of info.} Second, it was raining and the only thing worse than having to wear that big ass Mickey costume is having to do it in the rain {I'm guessing, here.} So we got to Disneyland and there were no characters to be found. Zero. I decide, "How about we throw them in the lake?"...we'd only be potentially screwing up their new billion dollar "World of Color" show, but hey, whatever it takes, right? No. It started pouring and we were way too far away from the lake when it was time to do the deed so, in typical Eric fashion, he says, "F-it, let's just throw them in the fountain in Downtown Disney." I said, "sure, why not" because at this point I was in full waddle mode and starting to look like a drowned rat, er buffalo, from the downpour. We get to the fountain and it's off. Shit! and not only is it off, it's been drained. Double shit! So Eric says "we're doing it anyways" and hands over the two remaining pacis that Sawyer owns and says "Go for it buddy." To his credit, he chucked them in the empty fountain with ease...but then immediately burst into tears. I wanted to cry too. Eric looked at me and said "quick, let's get out of here." I looked at him and said "should I grab 'em back, just in case?" He called me an enabler and then took off back to the car. I arrived 5 minutes after him. Winded and wet. It was not my finest hour.

So we get home and here's where I realized that I really was one of those enabler moms from the Intervention show. You know, the mom's that let the kid live under their roof and the kid shoots up heroin in their bedroom and then the camera crew arrives to film the intervention and the mom acts shocked like she had no idea her kid even had a drug problem. Yeah, I'm that mom. I realized that Sawyer could handle giving up his paci but I couldn't.

Anyway, when we got home we put him down for a nap and here's where the real fun started. Now that we made him go cold turkey. We had to watch him have paci withdrawals...for two whole hours. Here's just a sampling of what the lil dude went through. Pacis really are like drugs.

1. Crying. First the tears came, hard and loud..."where's that plug? oh wait..."
2. Shaking. Then he started shaking and rocking, back and forth in his bed.
3. Hot then Cold. He ripped off his socks and pants. Then, he got cold and was pissed when he couldn't get his socks back on.
4. Taking his stuffed puppy and slamming it against the headboard.
5. Yelling, "I'm mad. I'm so mad."
6. {And my personal favorite} When I finally went in the room to check on him he says, "Mommy, I need somefing for my mouf." Shame. The old oral fixation problem. I wanted to hand over one of those extra special anxiety pills that I used to pop like candy when I quit smoking.

Here we are now, 5DPP {5 days post paci} and he's doing pretty well. The first few days, nap time was the toughest. He's basically been trained to use the paci as a tool to help him fall asleep. Now he has to get to bed on his own. Not so much. Bed time has been simple because by the time he gets in bed, he's so freaking exhausted that he passes out. Today he actually fell right asleep at nap time. Golf claps for mom of the year over here.

Hey, I have an idea! How about we have another baby! Crap...

The way they were. {Cue Taps}

We weren't even really sure what Sawyer looked like until after his 1st birthday...

Sawyer and his BFF {Paci, not Rylan}

The day the pacis died...

In other news, I may not be an interventionist or a doctor, but I did figure out what's wrong with Serene Branson...she didn't have a stroke. She's pregnant. This is how I sound every day...

Making Room for Baby...Literally

I was told by someone  recently {thanks Dad} that my previous post had me sounding like a bitter, cynical, preggo almost-mom-to-three-kids {who me?} and that I ought to try and lighten {not a lot of that going on lately} the mood in my subsequent posts. Or at least watch the "shit" and "ass talk"...so here's my best effort.

This week, I kicked my urge to nest's ass, er butt. We are making some serious moves at the Beach House. Check it out. Here's Rylan's new "really big girl" room. She loves her new queen-sized bed. Most mornings we find her sideways in it. Think she's still getting used the size. What could be more appropriate than stripes, polka dots and zebra? Oh, and note the video camera mounted on the wall. Yeah, we'll have that there until she graduates high school. Sorry, Ry, but you have my DNA, which means there are all sorts of shenanigans we can look forward to. In case your wondering, yes, Rylan loses all of her privacy because of the "choices" I made in high school. Sorry, girlfriend. It is what it is.

And then there's the Dude's new digs. I made the brilliant decision when I was pregnant with Sawyer to buy the twin bedding that matched his crib set. Brilliant! This way, we wouldn't have to re-do his room 2-3 yrs after he was born because we couldn't find any twin-sized cowboy bedding, make sense? Highly recommend this decision to any first-time preggo 3B430 blog readers. He loves his big boy bed and has yet to get out of it in the middle of the night or even in the morning. Think he may be scared. We're going with it. "Yes, Sawyer, it's very scary to get out of bed in the middle of the night. Don't try it." Is that bad?? No judgements thanks. My toughest {please, #3, don't make me eat my words} kid has actually made a major toddler milestone easy.  Who knew?

Here's a sneak peek of #3's home once he/she is out-of-utero. It's not complete. But I do take comfort in knowing that if I go into labor tomorrow, the kid will have a place to crash that's not in our bed/room. Eeek. No offense to moms who do a "family bed"...It's just not for me. Anywhoo, a sneak peek of "Beach-wood Forest." More pics to come once it's complete.

Voila! Originally, I didn't want to do a gender-neutral nursery. I hated the idea of a yellow nursery. I was actually going to wait, pick a bedding set for a boy and a girl and then order it from the hospital after delivery. Can you imagine what would have happened to me and my urge to nest if I had done that? Sweet Jesus. Eric would have divorced me. So we decided to go with a forest theme. Yes, it's blue {torquoise} and green. But I figure if it's a girl {which, btw, we don't think it is} we could add some birds/fairies, etc and if it's a boy we can masculine-it-up a bit with some {deep voice} manly deer and "felt-idermy"...yes, it exists. Yes, it's one of the fabulous things I discovered after spending a disgusting amount of time on Etsy.com. Did I mention I could decorate my house completely in wall decals if I wanted to? I have issues.

Sarah Palin, eat your heart out...

Amazing, right?!! Felt-idermy. Genius.

And then there's me. Making room for baby, literally. I have feet in my rib cage. This baby kicks so hard it wakes me up from my sleep. If it's a girl? She's a rock-ette. A boy? A punter {sorry, babe. I know you're not a huge fan of punters. I couldn't think of a more masculine guy who kicks. Wait! got it.} Take 2. A boy? Beckham. And I think this is where I become bitter and cynical so I'll try and honor LT's wishes. I gained 4 lbs in 2 weeks. Oh the gluttony. Seriously!? That just sounds unhealthy to me. But, Doc says I'm good to go and has yet to have the come-to-Jesus "honey, you need to slow down" conversation with me, so I digress, enjoying my Mike and Ike's {seriously, the best EVER} and satiating myself on portions large enough to feed Secretariat.

Thar she blows folks. 32 weeks. 8 weeks to go {eek!! screams of panic and terror}

Final count: 2 "shits". 1 "ass". An improvement? I think so...