Bye Bye, Binky

No, binky did not fall overboard. This picture, taken upon our arrival in Maine on July 12 in what was literally the middle of the night for us, is the last photographic evidence of Jillson's binky use.

I'd always said that the binky would be gone when she turned two, and now that she is two years and one month old, AND the pediatrician has commented on her overbite, the binky's got to go.

Yesterday was binky's last day. Jillsie and I talked about it a bit, as in "tomorrow binky goes bye-bye" but she seemed unaffected by the thought that binky was leaving. This morning she woke up in a great mood, so while changing her diaper I reminded her that today is the day to put all the binkies away. She said, excitedly, "We'll put binky in a special box!" So, I found a special box, and we put all the binkies in it, and I told her we'd put it on the shelf (out of reach). I reminded Jills that she is a little girl now and that only babies use binkies. She said, "We give binky to Marion." I asked her if she was sure (since Marion is about 18 months old and not really a baby, either). "Don't you want to give them to Kerala?" I asked. "No, we give binky to Marion." She was delighted by this idea. So far, so good.

Fast forward to naptime. I didn't do myself any favors by starting nap later than usual, but Jillsie was excited for the other elements of her naptime ritual: diaper changing, reading books, rocking in the chair, snuggling assorted lovies. While reading stories she asked for binky. "Oh! Remember?" I said, "Binky went bye-bye. We put all the binkies away." She smiled and said "To give to Marion!" We rocked and read and all was good.

She was not happy when I put her in her crib. She wasn't asking for binky, though. She wanted me to read another book. No deal, kiddo, sorry. (We'd already reached our quota.) She seemed to pull it together a bit, but when I left the room, she cried out for the book. She cried for the book for 20 minutes. I had forgotten how slowly those minutes tick by when your child is crying for something and you are just sitting downstairs trying to watch Law & Order and pretending you don't hear your child suffering upstairs... I went back in to her, and she was devastated.

"I want another, Mommy."
"You want me to read another book?"
"I want another biiiiiin-keeeeee!"
"I'm sorry honey, binky went bye-bye."
"I want another one, then."
"Honey, all the binkies went bye-bye. They are all gone."
Long pause while Jillson looked at me tragically. She understood me. This was true grief. Silence. Then, quietly, wistfully:
"Binky..."
I couldn't take it any longer.
"How about Mommy reads you another book?"
"I'm a duck!" Half a smile...
"Yes, Mommy will read you I'm a Duck."

We went to the rocking chair and read the book. Two pages from the end she was bargaining again.

"Another book?"
"No, honey, after this book it is time to get back in your crib."
"I don't want binky in the special box anymore."
"I am sorry, honey, there's no more binky."
"I just want to hooooold it."
"I am sorry, honey."

I rocked her for a bit more, and then put her back in her crib. When I left the room she began crying and cried tragically (not quite hysterically) for about 30 minutes. Then, as far as I can tell, she sang softly to Pasta (her baby doll) for a few minutes. There is now silence. Hallelujah. Thank the Lord.

I'll let you know how bedtime goes.

The Meany Mom

Update: The bad news is she woke up half an hour later. I think she slept, at most, for 45 minutes. The good news is she woke up in a great mood.

Battling the Odor

Sometimes, the best part about vacation can be coming home. This is especially true if you leave your house in a state of cleanliness and order. I am pleased to report that I actually managed to leave my house in great shape when I left for the States. Everything was in its place, every piece of laundry had been cleaned, folded and put away, every dish had been done and put away, and the whole house was vacuumed, dusted, and generally cleaned. My humble abode was spic and span, top to bottom. (Those of you who know me will understand what a rarity this all is.)

So imagine my dismay when I returned from vacation to a home not glowing with Martha-like domestic beauty, but one that was dirty, reeking, and hotter than hades. How does this happen? At least everything was still orderly, and the dishes and laundry hadn't magically dirtied themselves. But where did the dirt come from? The dogs were at the kennel the whole time, so I cannot blame them. Perhaps the dust and dirt in the air reached some sort of critical mass--much like water droplets becoming rain--and the dirt just sprinkled down from out of nowhere.

The heat can be explained. Anyone who has visited can attest to the fact that air flow is a serious problem in these houses even under the best of circumstances. In this case the doors and windows were sealed up tight for three weeks. So it's a no-brainer that everything in my home's apparently dirt-laden air just stagnated.

But the worst, the absolute worst, my friends, was the odor. I opened my front door and was bombarded by a stench so horrific it practically defies explanation. Nevertheless I will try. It was as if half a dozen two-pack-a-day smokers had been shacking up in my home, but now imagine that these smokers were not humans but dogs. You know when you book a smoke-free hotel room and you enter it and you can tell that it recently has made the switch from smoke-friendly to non-smoking status? You can tell the staff did their best to try to rid the air of the odor, but to no avail. Add in the mysterious kennel odor (which must have wafted up from my carpets as, I have said, the dogs were not at home to create this part of the odor), the absurd heat, the complete lack of air circulation, and my sensitive pregnant nose, and you've got the perfect storm of stinkiness. PEE YEW. (To clarify, there was not actually cigarette smoke in my house...this is only the closest odor I can come up with to relate to my home's stench: pervasive, thick, musty, offensive.)

So the battle against the odor has begun.

Step One: Open all windows and doors to rooms which would otherwise bang shut, finding ingenious ways to prop them all open (I highly recommend the hanger chain, details available upon request).

Step Two: Bathe dogs, who smell a bit like kennel and a bit like farm thanks to their stay at the rural Kleintierresidenz. (This is the step I am currently executing. I am halfway done, but have taken a break to write this, as I find bathing the dogs in my current condition to be back-breaking work. Come to think of it, the whole process of bathing them should be a blog entry unto itself. Anyhoo, Zephie is clean. Tilly is not.)

Step Three: Vacuum, using Arm & Hammer Pet Fresh Powder, or whatever it is called (love this stuff).

Step Four: Evacuate home for several hours so as to eliminate sense memory.

Step Five: Re-enter home and give it the sniff test. If odor persists, light candles. (Current favorite is Glade's "Clean Linen.") Spray Febreze in the air (I like the summer scent, which is basically melon-scented).

Step Six: Pray.

Guess Who's Preggo?

If you guessed Aunt Heather (pictured on the left, with Charlie) then you are right! Charlie is going to be a big brother at the end of September.

But if you guessed the Gutsy Mom (pictured on the right, with Jillsie) then you are ALSO RIGHT! Yup, Jillson is going to be a big sister in early January!

YEEHAW!