Tuesday, January 18, 2011

The Paier Saga

In our house, one of the most treasured items is a pacifier. Otherwise known as a paier (Pie-er).

Sam was addicted to her paier from the start...we couldn't leave the hospital because she was so upset about being in the carseat until we shoved a pacifier in her mouth, and voila! The girl was happy.

It was actually pretty easy to break Sam of her addiction before Charlie was born...out of sight, out of mind. One night, I forgot it downstairs and got Sam ready for bed and read her books. Then I laid her in the crib and told her I would be back with the pacifier in a minute. When she didn't cry, I didn't give it to her...and that was that.

But then Charlie came into the picture. It had only been a couple of months since we had hidden all of the paiers, and she fell off the bandwagon in a New York minute. It didn't take long for her to start stealing them from Charlie, and it wasn't long after that when she learned that stealing from Charlie is not a good idea.

But here is the thing. Charlie is not some pacifier-addicted infant. She likes (needs) them when she goes to sleep, and that is only because I forced it on her. Other than that, she really could care less. She sucks for a second, and then it falls out of her mouth into her waiting sister's grubby little hands.

So we try as much as possible to keep them out of Sam's sight. They are in Charlie's crib, but out of Sam's reach. (or so we thought) We take them when we go out, so Sam knows that the diaper bag is usually a treasure-trove of paiers, so I try to keep the diaper bag high on a counter. I know it has to be hard for her, and when she is tired it is the worst. And let's be honest, I am the most inconsistent mother in the world. When we are traveling or out somewhere, if she needs that damn pacifier to keep her from throwing a huge fit, then she'll get the damn pacifier. And then she usually goes to bed with it, and the next day is meltdown after meltdown. Workaholic, however, has much less tolerance for poor Sam's addiction.

Tonight, Sam found a pacifier somewhere in the house. I swear she hides them and pulls them out when she thinks no one is looking. She even tries to pretend like she is giving her baby the pacifier and then sneaks it into her mouth, watching us out of the corner of her eye. If she sees us see her with it, she whips it out and smiles really big. We are in trouble in 10 years.

So, I am working late in the basement office, and this is what I hear.

Workaholic: "Sam, what is that in your mouth?"
Sam: "Mhff"

Workaholic: "I can't understand you with that pacifier in your mouth."
Sam: (takes pacifier out) "Hi Daddy!"
Workaholic: "Let's go upstairs and read some books."
Sam: "NO!"

(sudden and loud crying of a heartbroken (or injured) toddler)

I then get a guest in my office.

me: "What's the matter Sam?"

me: "Sam, stop crying. What's wrong?"
Sam: "What happened???" (imagine a dramatic teenager sobbing)

me: "I don't know, why don't you tell me why you are crying?"
Sam: (big fat tears are rolling now) "Paier!!!"

me: "What about the paier?"
Sam: "What happened to paier??!?" (I swear her voice even cracked)

me: "I think daddy took it. Babies need paiers, like Charlie. Little 2 year old girls don't need paiers."
Sam: "But WHY???!!!!?" (cue the soap opera audition)

And she then decided that she was getting nowhere with me and go to seek out Daddy, the Holder of the Paier. Attention span of a gnat, that one. No idea where she gets it.

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