On Saturday night during the Clemson game our neighbor, Russ, somehow convinced Maggie to throw her pacifier, Mimi (yes the Pacifier had a name like she was a real, live person), in the trash. Maggie, attempting to be a big girl and impress everyone, threw Mimi in the trash. Because she was so brave (and it was she who did it and not me), I seized on the opportunity to kick the paci habit. She is, afterall, 18 months old and absolutely obsessed with it. That of course, sounded like a bright idea at the time. 3 days later, I am pretty sure the person who was the most tortured in this experience was me.
Saturday night she did okay going to sleep without it. She was very tired and feel asleep on the couch. Sunday morning she did okay until time to leave for church. She always has it in the car and on the drive to church, she reminded me every second of the 4 mile trek that Mimi was missing. After church wasn't much better. She actually lay in the floor and begged me for it. She went to my closet and searched in every pair of shoes on the off chance that she had hid one inside a shoe. At church on Sunday night, I warned her teacher that there was a very good chance that she might tackle a classmate in an attempt to steal their paci. Luckily, she didn't stoop to such a desperate low.
Sunday night, there was very little sleep gotten by me. She fought sleep and then woke up 4 times during the night begging me for it. In an attempt to console her, I rubbed her back. Instead of lulling back to sleep, she grabbed my hand and screamed, "Dop (stop) It! Dop It! No touch me!" Heartwrenching. I wanted to give it back to her. Really I did. In fact, what little bit of sleep I got, was done with Mimi in my hand, tucked under the pillow. It took all of my mighty will power to stop the urge to give in. But I kept thinking, "We have come so far. Tomorrow will be better."
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| Mags attacking Will. I did break up the fight, after a picture of course! |
Well, it wasn't. Will was sick and Maggie was in full longing for her Mimi. She cried the entire drive to school and the entire way back. I thought seruiously about driving her to Charleston and leaving her with my mom. Afterall, she was the one who gave her the pacifier to begin with. She should have to at least suffer with me.
Instead of asking me for Mimi, she began asking for her "paci," as if to make it clear to me that Mimi was the paci and was not to be confused with something else. She cried for 45 minutes straight at nap time, and then the entire way to school, sitting in the car line, and all the way back home yesterday afternoon. She even attacked Will, who kept trying to console her and tell her she would be OK without her Mimi. Poor Will felt so sorry for her that he petitioned me six times on her behalf. When I wouldn't give in, he asked God to intervene during prayer time. "God, please make Mommy give Maggie back her Mimi. If she won't do it, make Maggie feel better about missing it." So sweet but God did not intervene to give back Mimi. However, perhaps He did intervene to make her feel better about missing it. She slept all night and didn't ask me for it this morning. We seem to be over the worst of it. At least, I hope so.
These are the milestones that are hard. The ones that hurt. And honestly, it hurts a lot to think she is too old to have Mimi anymore. It hurts to know that she is in the midst of potty-training and soon diapers won't be a reality in my life anymore. (OK, so I am not all that upset about that one. Just the part that she is big enough to wear big girl panties.) It hurts to know that my baby years are coming to a close. It seems like just yesterday, Ian was a little toddler who loved for me to rock him to sleep. Now, I can no longer pick him up. It hurts to know that time goes so fast. But it does.
So, goodbye Mimi. You were a good pacifier and you gave me a lot of peaceful quiet. There is no one who will miss you as much as me. And even though I am not cool for throwing you in the trash, I know the time has come. Peace Out.
