How Not to Take Away Your Baby's Binky

If you Google how to take away the binky, i.e. how to steal the one comfort item your child has had since birth right out from under them, you will be met with a mere 228,000 results. All of them are cruel and unusual.

I mean, cut the tip off? Why don't you just behead one of their stuffed animals while you're at it?

And dip it in something nasty tasting? Probably going to give them a sauerkraut complex for life, but go right ahead.

Then there's the binky fairy. Even the tooth fairy doesn't believe in her.

I never liked any of these methods, so instead we tried our own. And let me tell you, my husband and I, we collectively Sucked, capital S for emphasis. You will not find our methods on any baby websites anytime soon because frankly, we'd be sued. We'll keep them right here on this blog where no one can find them and I guess all you parents out there can just go back to beheading binkies and dipping pacis in pickle juice.

Here's our top 5 "what not to dos."

Mistake #1. Elect to de-pacify on the 4th of July weekend. Pop. Pop. Pop go the fireworks. Crack. Crack. Crack go the cans of beer we needed to save our sanity. I thought my 2-year-old would be the first kid to stay away 24 hours in a row. While the Guinness record would be nice, just no.

Mistake #2. At least I've read the websites mentioned above and knew the "tried and true" methods. My husband decided to go rogue with his idea. Our toddlers room features an owl theme, therefore we have a decorative cage in her room. Dad decided to lock the binky in the see-through cage and act like he couldn't get it out. Really? Imagine what our child thought. "Why did daddy lock my binky in a cage? How dumb is he? He knows I need that to sleep! And why is he so incompetent that he now can't get it out. Mommmmmm!!!" Once I caught wind of this odd jodi-mind trick he tried, I released the binky from captivity. Out of sight, out of mind, or so I thought.

Mistake #3. Find the most ear worm-inducing two-minute video on the internet about Elmo giving up his pacifier. Nice idea in theory, annoying as shit in practice. And you know how two-year-olds say "one more time" and you think they mean it? Mine fooled me with this at least four times before I caught on. By then, she had the song memorized and sang it for an hour straight after I left her room for the night.

Mistake #4. Keep a binky in the bottom of your purse. Sure, I'd forgotten it was there, but when I remembered, I was gung ho on handing it over a full two weeks after we'd taken it away because she still WOULD NOT STOP TALKING TWO HOURS AFTER WE PUT HER TO BED! Her name is Gabby and I did not find the coincidence humorous.

Mistake #5. Not having enough alcohol or will power on hand. Self-explanatory.

There you have it. This has been yet another, "What not to do as you raise your children," segment brought to you by the Lindquist family. You're welcome.

The Binky/Bedtime Chronicles Part II

Oh fine, I've put it off long enough. It's time to talk about How We Gave the Binky Back  (in italics because it's the running title of our upcoming worst-seller). Honestly, I'd be surprised if this doesn't become national news. I can just see Robin Roberts from GMA now: "Next up we'll interview some pathetic Council Bluffs parents -- stay tuned."

My first mistake was proclaiming in the comments of my Big Girl Panties post that May 24, a month prior to Faith's 2nd birthday, would be D-day. Well, Rob and I ended up with party plans that night and it hardly seemed fair to turn beloved gammy Janny into She-who-should-not-be-Named in Faith's eyes.

So the next night, May 25, as we were driving home from Missouri Valley, I was lining up excuses in my head to put off the "extraction" until her 16th birthday. The next day we'd be going on a long car trip and a nap would be essential. The following weekend she'd be staying the night with Rob's mom. Without warning, Rob told Faith she was a big girl, that she didn't need her binky and to hand it over. For no other reason than God is good, Faith placed it in his paw.

When we got home she was still wide awake. Since following through on my proclamation wasn't my idea, I told Rob bedtime duties were all him. Faith didn't disappoint. She wailed for a solid 10 minutes, holding the I in binky like it was the last note in a song. After about 3 minutes, I couldn't stand it and left the room. I started to cry, too. Hearing your kid that distressed is upsetting. Knowing you could easily fix the problem by putting in a plug makes it even more unbearable. But since Rob was born with that trait they call patience, he waited her out. She eventually calmed down and slept well that night. The next day we had the true test of a nap in the car. After putting up a 10-minute fight, she was out. This isn't so bad, I thought. The next night she went down so easily I was in disbelief. It was just like the books said, they cry one night and then they're over it.

And then Faith decided to join the circus. Or at least audition. That Monday, Rob's first official day as a stay-at-home dad for the summer, Faith tried to climb out of her crib. I wasn't there, but Rob tells me he had just made it downstairs when he heard screaming. Pained screaming. Faith got her foot stuck between the outer crib rail and the inner rail and was somewhat dangling inside the crib. She could've broken her leg, but thankfully was fine. If it scared Rob, I knew it must've been bad. He doesn't rattle easily.

That night Faith and I went to Target to pick out new bedding while Rob converted the crib to a bed. There weren't a lot of options for toddler girls, but there was the perfect option for Faith. Pink and purple cupcakes and ice cream.

We hoped she wouldn't realize she could just get out of the bed, unlike the crib. Those hopes were quickly dashed and then smashed when we realized she thought it was a train. She kept getting off and back on, saying "All Aboaaard."



Let's see here.
The first night she fell out.

And then for the next 2.5 weeks, her bedtimes (which used to be an enjoyable routine for all involved) became Cryfest, Sobstock and Wahwahpalooza all rolled into one. I must have tried to put her back in bed 10 times one night. And that was it. I calmly walked to the edge of the stairs and asked Rob if I could give her back the pacifier. (We threw all but one away.) I knew she was tired,and that she just needed her bink to get a wink of sleep. Oddly enough, Mr. Tough Guy obliged. I thought it was weird, but wasn't about to question it. I handed over "pink bink" and Faith rolled over and immediately went to sleep. I felt instant euphoria, followed by instant guilt. I hung my head and went downstairs. Rob held up his hand for a high-five and then he fessed up with little to no interrogation. Just 5 hours before that he'd cracked. After trying for more than 1.5 hours to get Faith to nap, he caved and gave her the pacifier. He claimed he was going to tell me when I came downstairs. I think he was hoping it was a one time thing. Not the case.

Since that night, bedtime (with a bink) HAS gotten easier. She still gets up a few times before she's down for the count. And sometimes she falls asleep in the hallway, behind her door, on her rug and even in our bed twice when I accidentally left the door open.

But there's no crying, whining or wailing from any of us. And I have my evenings back to blog, read and relax, though we still get up once or twice a night to tend to her.

I think her struggles of staying in bed initially had more to do with the transition from the crib than giving up her binky, but we would have never taken it away had we planned to switch to a big-girl bed just three days later. So yes, now we have to do wean all over again. But we've been very strict that it doesn't leave her bedroom from now on (unless we're driving home from somewhere at bedtime and then she gets it in the car). She can even reach the drawer it goes in and knows to put it away once she's up for the day.

Since I'm anti-cut off the tip and/or dip it in something nasty, I think we'll go the binky fairy route when she's old enough to understand it. Probably by age 10. ;)

p.s. Thanks to EVERYONE who offered their support and words of wisdom on my last post about binkies (in the comments and on Facebook). You have no idea how much it means!

One Lucky Guy

It was either this, or the football player.

I have considered myself a very lucky guy for a long time. Whether it was good or bad, it always seemed to work out.  I do think I’ve worked hard for my luck, but either way, I am pretty lucky.

I distinctly remember the first time I felt like I was lucky (get your mind out of the gutter). I was sitting in Mr. Bowman’s science class in 7th grade. I have always considered myself a smart kid, even when I lie about my past. I sat towards the back of the room, and we were going over the periodic table of elements. The textbook we were using (remember those?) had the table spread over two pages right in the middle pages of the book; so the  binding was visible, and a slight space appeared vertically down the center of the elements. 

Now, for all of you that haven’t looked at, or thought about, the periodic elements since that day in Jr. High, there are also a group of elements that were separated and moved below the table as man-made elements (I’m not looking this up by the way, my wife can vouch. Pure memory, and probably wrong). 

Added photo after text was written. I think I was right...

So Mr. Bowman was talking the Charlie Brown teacher talk (c’mon: wah wah wah, wah-wah wah wah); and I was probably just starting to pay attention when he asked the class if there was something odd about the periodic table. There was some silence. I looked, raised my hand and said, “This is easy. The table is split down the middle.” Of course, Mr. Bowman said I was right. I think you can see where this is going. I thought it was split oddly because I had never seen it split vertically before. He thought (or at least played it off as) that I knew the bottom elements were the man-made ones. I got lucky.

But my luck didn’t stop. Oh no, it kept getting better. I was lucky enough in high school to have people that wanted me to succeed. I was the sportscaster on a TV News team that won the All-State competition. I wasn’t considered rich growing up, but I got by with what we had. For the news broadcast, I didn’t have a sports coat, or even a white button down shirt. I did have a black shirt and tie though (used sparingly throughout high school). The judges at the competition said our newscast stood out because of our commercial, and it was hilarious. But he also made a point to say that the sportscaster took a chance and stood out by wearing a black shirt and no coat. Sometimes you remember the little stuff.

Just getting into college was luck for me. But I got there, and after semester one I needed to get my act into gear if I wanted to stay. Sometimes it’s not what you know, but who you know. And I had a good crew in college that were more focused on academics than not. And that support was beneficial. I ended up in a great place because of it.

I also remember in college when my luck wasn’t so much good. Long story short: I lost a “bar fight” with the glass from a fire extinguisher case. I had the pleasure of spending the night in the tank. But, it led to some good. When I went to my broadcasting class later that week (and the beginning of Triple Threat TV at ISU) a cute girl was eyeing me. I found out later that she was trying to figure out if I really was the kid from the paper she read about in the blotter. Good news for me, she liked me anyway, and now we are about to celebrate our 5th year of marriage together (June 2nd). And you know how we’re celebrating? We’re going to run a 20K in Des Moines. I have a feeling I’ll be lucky to finish.

Addiction.

Now with Faith almost 2-years-old, I decided it was time to get rid of the pacifier. We had talked about it anyway when I was out of school. But it was just as big of a crutch for Nicole and I as it was for Faith. So, last night, when we were on our way home I got stubborn, and pretty much told Nicole we were going to go sans-binky right then. Cold Turkey.

She said that I would be the one in charge for the night. And I got lucky. It initially took about 10 minutes to get her to calm down. We have a giraffe that makes music, and so I decided that would be her replacement. So when she was upset, I wound it up and made sure to give it to her, then rub her back. Then she was out. She woke up once at 5am, for just a moment. I repositioned the giraffe and she was out again. And that was it. She woke up at 6:30 (about normal) and was ready to rock and roll. Nicole gave her presents for making it as a “big-girl” and our day has commenced.

Duck, Duck, ALLIGATOR!

You know the expression, “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch,” right? This was night one. We still have two long car rides today - and probably nap time too. But, I’m lucky. We’ll see I guess.

By the way, I didn’t mention being on (and winning) Wheel of Fortune, falling into a wonderful career (I literally replied to a newspaper ad that said, “Tired of your current job? Did you always want to become a teacher?”), getting to jump out of a plane and tell about it, visiting Ireland, and a myriad of other moments in my life. 

The family with ISU women's basketball coach Bill Fennelly and his 2028 recruit. Oh, and yellow skinny jeans.

As I often say (to anyone who will listen), I am the luckiest guy I know.~Rob