Deep in our box of Baby Stuffs And Things -- most of which was bought at 2-8% of retail during last December's Massive Receivership Party in the UK was a piece of plastic and rubber we received from a baby shower which we didn't immediately bin just in case and which was meant only for emergencies.
The Puppy now has a binky, a.k.a. "dummy", "pacifier", "bobo" and whatever the hell you want to call it. The instant it hit her mouth she started sucking like a 14-year-old emo chick's MySpace page.
We were both more than a bit wary about using a pacifier. Not so much because of the bullshit old wives' tales about them causing a later need for orthodontics but rather as a matter of gratification, expectation, promotion of simple solutions, dependence on foreign objects, and other ideas along these lines, concerns which at 1:30 a.m. on the seventh consecutive I-ain't-going-to-sleep-and-you-can't-calm-me night, we succumbed to.
I thought the thing was a godsend. I was so tired I actually thanked Oðin in Icelandic before falling asleep, a rest which lasted a whole 17 minutes.
Babbies are (and I'm just being honest here), Teh Stoopidz. Ours -- despite certain developmental signs to the contrary -- is nevertheless a member of this group, not understanding that if she opens her mouth the thing will fall out. Not understanding that if she's busy crying to have it replaced in her mouth she can't actually keep it in there. Not understanding that if she flails her arms about in Yet Another Fit that Papa can't get the damned thing back in. RIG's closest friend may yet have a chance at instant adoption.
RIG was asleep. Papa jumped up and went feeling around for the damned binky knowing it had to be pretty close to where her mouth is. It was, and this is where PapaDog began to grok the above paragraph. Binky back in place, Papa went back to bed... for another 15 minutes or so. Lather, rinse, repeat. Mama got some much-needed and well-deserved sleeps until the 4:20a.m. Dropping of Teh Binky which was prolly actual hunger (it was).
What we thought to be a godsend turns out to be a Devil's Game.
We were in agreement in stalling the usage of a binky (they'd offered us one on Day 2 at the clinic). We are still in agreement now. The binky is for nighttime only, and we even turn out all the lights in a futile effort to help our little whelp understand the difference between day and night.
We didn't FAIL. It's not even that we outlasted a majority of Western parents. As I did a bit of research this morning I came across a 2005 meta-study from the American Pediatric Association which showed a strong correlation between the use of binkies and reduction in SIDS. It's probably due to the shape of the binky and the fact that it keeps the kid from being able to suffocate itself (babbies do that, dontchaknow) because the nose can't rest on anything with that slug of plastic on the outside hanging out.
We care. We worry. We're probably very good parents although our academic backgrounds and RIG's research access to every paywalled site out there results in us having to read hundreds of pages to confirm that we're not killing our baby by doing X.
She's asleep now. MildlyNaughtyPuppy, that is; RIG's up and not too groggy after another awesome breakfast burrito provided by her One True Love. The puppy will awake up to feed in another hour or two. Twelve hours from now it'll be time for her to scream and cry and be inconsolable. And suck on a binky, waking Papa every 15 minutes to have it replaced.
And I wouldn't trade this for the fucking world.
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