Death to Woggie

I say this over and over.  To myself.  To new parents.  To been there done that parents.  Whatever you do for your family is right.  Having done this two times, this makes me the expert of nothing.  But I do know that I/we pick our battles.  And sometimes these battles are tough.

Lots of battles.  And decisions.  And information.  And opinions.  And second guessing.  So that’s where the “whatever you do for your family is right” comes in.  Vaccinations.  Ear piercing.  When to move to a big bed.  When to flip the car seat around.  Breastmilk/formula.  Co-sleeping.  I could go on.  But I won’t.  Because this is about one battle.  Well maybe two.  The pacifier.

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I hesitated to give Cyan a pacifier.  Some of my friends even tried to give it to her, and it really didn’t take.  I was relieved.  Until she started sucking her thumb.  I thought she’d grow out of it.  She hasn’t.  But she sure is working on it, bless her heart.  And as frustrating as it is, I do believe it’s going to be okay.  So that’s round one.  No pacifier, thumb.  Ready for round two?  Atticus didn’t use a pacifier.

At first.

I stopped nursing him around seven months.  For both of my kids, it was a sleep aid.  I couldn’t very well give them Tylenol PM or wine so we had to think of something else.  Pacificer!  So seven month old Atticus having never used a pacifier, took right to it.
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And so did our dogs sometimes.  You see, if you leave out a chewy object that smells like humans, it will disappear.  Into Kaiser’s abdomen in some cases.

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Over the last year and a half or so, we’ve gone to extreme lengths in the name of the pacifier.  They are like socks that go missing in the dryer.  And this kid is particular.  For a while, he only liked his San Francisco 49er pacifier.  Not like you can just pick that up at the local pharmacy.  And he knew too.  He totally knew when it wasn’t the right kind.  He rejected any that did not meet his high standards.

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He also decided to christen it one day.  Woggie.  No one knows why or how.  It just was.  Woggie.  Or more like WOGGGGGGGGGIIIIIIEEEEE!  Demanding, I tell you.  You know it’s bad when your kid can name his pacifier.

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We moved through a few different models as one would get lost and we’d deserately try to get him to like another one.  Curse you Woggie.  You could ask him for a kiss.  He’d take it out, kiss you and plop it right back in.  He’d take it out to eat.  And then yell for it when he was done.

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You’re probably quite familiar with Woggie.  If you saw any of the few countless pictures I’ve posted over the last year, you’ve seen.  If you’ve been around us, you heard Atticus call for Woggie.  If you’ve had a kid that you just needed to be quiet/go to sleep, you know how important Woggie was.

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I’m proud to say was.  As of today, Atticus has been Woggie-free for a week.  That may not seem like a lot, but in upset toddler time, that’s like forever.  We broke the habit cold turkey.  No poking holes or cutting it down.  No pacifier fairy.  Allan and I had to back each other up when we questioned ourselves.  He asked for it, we changed the subject or told him we don’t have it anymore.  The first nap and first night were the hardest.  A lot of tears and sleeplessness.  But we made it through and haven’t looked back.  It was unintentional.  Just woke up after Christmas and decided no more Woggie.  After all, we don’t want him to grow up to be Dookie from Boyz in the Hood or an active member of the rave culture.

 

Now we can hear every word Mr. says.  Which is a lot.  He is really starting to talk it up.  And sing.  We can also see his beautiful smile.

He still asks for it.  I’m not sure when that will stop.  This was a milestone and several of them are just around the corner.  First haircut.  Second birthday.  My baby boy is growing up.  Without Woggie.

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