From her very first days on earth, our youngest granddaughter has had a binky. The binky was so prevalent, so offered and accepted, that I rarely heard her cry. To sleep through the night, her parents scattered binkies galore on her crib mattress. She trained her self. When she awoke, she'd stretch for one of those binkies, insert, and fall back to sleep. At three months, she was sleeping through the night. Through the night meant twelve hours. When she initially lost weight as a newborn, her parents had to wake her every two and a half hours to feed her.
The twelve hour sleep window was like a luxury vacation.
But there comes a time, when a binky is a liability. If used too long, it changes the shape of the child's palette and ruins the alignment of teeth. The pediatrician recommended that binky use ended at two years.
Before she turned two, she was ultra attached to binky. She renamed it Nonny. She was only allowed to have Nonny during nap time and night time sleep. But she would toddle upstairs, into her room, open the drawer where it was safely kept, for what her father deemed was her "Smoke break."
When tired at night, or too long in the car seat, she would holler "Nonny!"
It was her comfort, her sure-soother, and the equivalent of a smoke break.
Several times, my daughter started to make the transition, but I think she needed Nonny as much as her daughter.
"We can't take away Nonnny this week cause we'll be on vacation." Or "We'll start next week." Next week became next weeks.
I too dreaded the day that binky would be banished. The two year old was to have her first trial. Would she understand? Why was something so comforting taken away? I worried; I ached. It was going to be tough for both daughter and granddaughter.
Then one day, Mom and daughter collected all the Nonnies and buried them in the back yard. They watered the Nonnies. That night, the little one had to be held to go to sleep.
The next morning, they watered the Nonnies. And the next day!!!! Colorful pinwheels grew from the buried binkies!
When the little one asks for her Nonny, her mother reminds her that they buried them.
"Oh," she remembers, then gets on with the task of being a two year old.
However, on one visit, weeks ago, a binky was left at my house. When I notified my daughter, she said, "Throw it away." But I responded that I was holding on to it for emergencies. That weekend we were going to have little one as a guest while her parents went out. Plans changed and we didn't have her nor did the no-binky training go into effect.
It's been five days now. Binkies are still buried. Pinwheel flowers are thriving. Little one is adapting. Her mother is adapting. I am not. I can't seem to throw away that little rubber accessory. It is so representative of change, adaptation, a child's resistance and resilience, and a mother's love~~her continual tug-of-war-heart to raise her child well.
So, I took little pink bink and placed it in a cupboard. Someday, I will gift it back to my granddaughter. Perhaps the timing will coincide when her life is tough, or when she graduates from college or has her own child.
Little Nonny warms my heart. It reminds me that I too can do hard things.
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