“Bye, bye binkie, binkie bye-bye!” Elmo’s song came through the iPad. My daughter stayed locked in, but quietly shook her head at it. It was as if she was saying, “Elmo, I like you, we’ve gotten along great so far, but I kindly disagree.” We had been talking about it for weeks. “You’re almost three! You know what that means, right?” She would respond, “no more binkie!” sometimes excited, but most times in a melancholy voice.
I think as parents sometimes you encounter issues you never thought you would be facing. While I was pregnant with my daughter, I was adamant that there would be no pacifiers in our house. I didn’t register for them or buy any. Thirty-six hours of labor, three hours of pushing, and an emergency C-section later, when the nurse put a pacifier in her mouth and she went to sleep, I gave up the fight. Of course, hindsight is 20/20. I look back now at all the ways we could have ended it sooner, but it was always that extra hour of sleep or a quiet moment in a store that made me continue it.
So here we are, three years later and grasping at straws to find the least painful way to ditch the binkie for all of us. Turns out, that way doesn’t exist. Yet, I tried. I researched, asked around to friends and family, and then made the best decision based on our child and hoped for the best. We attempted the “Binkie Fairy.” A letter arrived in the mail for our daughter, explaining how the Binkie Fairy works: on the night of her birthday she would place all her pacifiers in the special bag the Binkie Fairy sent, and in the middle of the night they would turn into magic dust. In their place, a special present would arrive.
I have to say she was fairly excited. She kept asking me to reread the letter. She would tell anyone who came in about it. Until the actual night of her birthday. She put them in the bag herself, although tearfully. “I really really miss my binkies,” she cried. Then we would remind her about the fairy dust and the present and she would get excited. Exhausted from an eventful birthday, she was asleep before we left the room. We all but high fived when we shut the door. That wasn’t that bad, we thought. I know what you’re thinking: how naive could we be? The second night was a little bit harder. She told us several times how much she missed her binkie. She asked us to come back in, cried, needed her back rubbed; she pulled out all the stops.
It’s been almost a month. Some nights are easier than others. Some are pretty bad. She has to learn, at three years old, how to self-soothe and let herself fall asleep. I know in the long run this will be a phase, just like the many other obstacles of raising a child. But sometimes, when she’s crying on the monitor and I’m staying strong (I am the one in our relationship who does that, my husband was ready to grab his keys and run to the store to buy a new pacifier on night two), my heart does break a little. Since the binkie has said “bye-bye,” she doesn’t cuddle her favorite bunnies as much anymore. It’s sad because it’s just one more little step in her growing up. And while most days I swear I am so ready to be out of this phase, it’s times like these when I look at her and miss her rubbing her bunny on her face and I don’t want her to get one second older.
So, while I know I’m doing the right thing for her, and we will get past the nail-biting and the two hours it takes for her to fall asleep at night, I’m trying to take this all as a reminder. “This too shall pass” not only applies to the ‘terrible two’s’ or ‘threenager’ but also to my baby girl. The little girl who would cuddle up with “soft bunny” and “regular bunny” and her binkie in her mouth and read a book with me is growing up. I just have to remind myself not to rush it too much and enjoy any extra snuggles that come my way.
I’m not gonna lie.
he has said this about only two other things: homemade Colombian empanadas that cannot be bought, and a certain grilled cheese detailed below). Since then, he gets the occasional bacon cheddarwurst whenever he can. This is tricky, as the Gastros cart is always on the move and one needs to pay attention or miss out. Often found at Long Live Brewery on weekends, check their 
I often think of my marriage in two parts: the before children time and the after children time. This not an apocalyptic thought, but really a very matter of fact statement. My marriage looked very different before children. In the before time, we only had one another to worry about and love unconditionally. It was easy to be spontaneous, and date nights were plentiful and full of laughter. 
What’s your New Year’s resolution??
I got the text at 7:47 a.m. on a raw January morning—it was my best friend passing along a link. She didn’t say anything about it; she just gently placed it in my text message inbox and carried on with her day. I thought nothing of it and went on with my day until I got a breather and opened it.
In that moment, I decided to more frequently appreciate the grandeur of the little things in life—the taste of the first sip of coffee on a weekend morning, a soft, clean bed at the end of a long day, or the warm winter sun that dazzles through our living room window, lighting up the floor while our kids dance and giggle.
It started with a 
In the weeks leading up to my son’s appointment, all I could think about was how much weight he had gained. It had been the topic of our six month appointment and I promised the pediatrician (like someone can make such a promise?) that we would be back on track at the next one. 
Joffrey’s Coffee Carts
