Tantrum Threat Level: LOW. Lilly’s passion for the binky is waning.

Progress: Yes! Yes! Yes! We have definitely turned a corner. Lilly is a free woman now, no longer kept awake by her memories of binkies past.

Analysis: Bedtime on Day 5 was epic. Lilly was in a good, playful mood. We went through our routine as usual. In the old days, it was not unusual for Lilly to request a binky before she was even out of her bath. So it was a minor victory when she waited until she was in her crib and had exhausted all other methods of procrastination. But then, it happened.

Lilly asked for her orange binky. I reminded her that she doesn’t like it and asked if she still wants it. She did, so I complied. As usual, she took one look and dropped her hand, defeated.

I don’t like it. Blue one.

We’re down to two binkies: orange and blue. I gave her blue. She threw it to the end of the crib.

I don’t like it!

Here we go again, I thought. Lilly sat up, grabbed the blue binky and threw it to the end of the crib again. She leaned forward, grabbed it again and started to drop it into the sliver of space between the crib and wall.

Don’t do it, Lilly. I won’t get it.

Kerplunk!

Then she grabbed the orange one, gave me a defiant look and moved toward the side of the crib. I warned her:

Lilly, I won’t get it and then you won’t have any binky.

Kerplunk!

Well, now you don’t have a binky.

She looked at me and laid down. I walked out of the room. And then do you know what happened? Nothing! She went to sleep! How cool is that?

Now, it’s possible that when I left the room, Lilly immediately began to panic and started fashioning a binky-saving device from her blanket and stuffed sheep, but I don’t think so. And even if that was the case, it was done quietly and ultimately unsuccessfully. The binkies are still under the bed waiting for a time when I can stealthily extract them without reminding Lilly of their existence.

Given the obvious political parallel, I hesitate to announce, “Mission Accomplished!” because there is still the potential for relapse. But we’re close. We’re very, very close.

The hardest adjustment is, as I expected, going to sleep with her mutilated binky. But even that is improving. Rather than tantrums and binky-launchings, Lilly now seems to be trying to talk her way through the problem.

With each request for the binky, she inspects the binky, sees the hole and confidently says, “Baby close it.” She pinches it for a few seconds, then calmly says, “Mommy close it.” I tell her I can’t. She studies it some more and says, “I don’t like it.” I tell her I know. Then she requests a different color binky and the process repeats.

Days 3 and 4 were a bit tough. Lilly’s runny nose evolved into a full-blown cold with fever. This might actually be a good thing since she can only breathe through her mouth and thus can’t keep a binky in her mouth long anyway. But it also means she is craving all her comfort items.

Naps and bedtimes, which are the only times binky is a point of contention anymore, have gone like this:

First there’s the procrastination. As bedtime or naptime approachs, she wants milk, juice, snack, a book, a wagon ride, etc. When I finally carry her upstairs, she’s crying and begging to go to “mommy’s bed” instead. For better or worse, I have indulged this request a bit. I don’t let her sleep there, but we’ll read books and just wind things down in my bed before moving to her room. This seems to be helping, but I’ll probably regret it in time.

Fully embracing the nickname she has earned among our friends, the Zen Master kicked off her counter-offensive with her Day 3 Nap. Tantrums are just not her style. Instead, she tried reverse psychology.  After the ritual requests to close it and fix it, and the declaration that she doesn’t like her binkies, Lilly let me lay her in the crib with no major objections. Then, as I was about to walk out, calmly placed both binkies in her mouth. You give me half a binky, I’ll take two, thank you very much!

Bedtime on Day 3 was business as usual. Books, blanket, two lambs, two binkies.

Day 4 all hell broke loose. Again. But I think her fever was more to blame than binky withdrawal, although it certainly didn’t help. At naptime she was very upset. That fever kind of cry when even your skin hurts and you just want to feel better. I felt like Mommy Dearest to deny her a soothing binky in this state, but I did.  Once again she took the mutilated binky and cried, “I don’t like it. I don’t like it.” I gave her some ibuprofen (to bring down the fever, not to drug her) and put on some Coldplay to distract her and left. She cried for a few more minutes then went to sleep.

That night the fever was even higher and she’d been a trouper at a family party where she had to tolerate numerous “strangers” tickling her, talking to her and otherwise getting chummy and she held it together wonderfully most of the time. So when she just lost it and looked awful with feverish fatigue and crankiness, we could not deny her anything — except a whole binky. I let her fall asleep on me, in my bed, with two binkies. I’m an Evil Binky Torturer, but I’m still a mom for christ’s sake.

Day 2 ended with our first night since Lilly realized that her binky had been vandalized and, in all honesty, it went better than expected. As I noted on the evening of Day 2, bedtime didn’t start out well. Lilly screamed for a good two hours before finally allowing Dad to comfort her enough to fall asleep around 9:30. She was up at 10:30, back down with comforting from Mom at 11. Then . . . radio silence! At least for a few hours. Amazingly, she made it through the rest of the night without comforting from us, but that’s not to say she was sleeping soundly. Or that I was either.

The nice thing about this technique is that although it is difficult for Lilly to be disappointed and frustrated with her heretofore reliable old friend, Binky. She doesn’t project any of that frustration onto me because she doesn’t realize I am the mastermind behind her binky’s undoing. It’s quite sad actually. I — surprise, surprise — am racked with guilt about it. Here I am sympathizing with her that “these darn binkies are open for some reason and I just don’t know how to fix them, Sweetie.” All the while knowing that I, Evil Binky Torturer, am the source of their deformity.

So here’s what I learned during our first night of Operation De-Binkification. If you are the kind of person  – read: me — who thinks that the best way to work through guilt is to subject yourself to some similar discomfort — don’t do it — such as listening closely to a baby monitor all night  – seriously, do not do it — so that you can hear and sympathize with each and every instance of frustration when your baby misses her old binky, well, I just can’t say this strongly enough: JUST DON’T DO IT.

If I had just kept the monitor off, as I had been for weeks before we started this Operation, I would have most likely slept through Lilly’s minor stirrings through the night. I would have woken up and thought, “You know, bedtime started out pretty rough, but that wasn’t so bad!”  But no. I glued myself to the monitor and spent the night fighting back tears each time I heard Lilly’s tired and frustrated “noooo” and the binky hit the mattress, followed by some whimpering. Hers, not mine. Mostly.

The real zinger is that Lilly was probably only awake for a total of maybe 20 minutes over the course of the night (once she finally fell asleep). I, on the other hand, slept for maybe 20 minutes because each time she whimpered and went back to sleep, I stayed up for another hour or so wondering if it would really be so bad if she was the only teenager who sleeps with a binky.

So I guess the take-away on Day 3 is that the technique seems to be working. Lilly is slowly detaching from her binky. Sure, I am slowly detaching from reality also, but it’s a small price to pay to keep the orthodontist away.

Mission: Continue incremental destruction of binky by cutting tip of binky off. Do not deny binky.

Objective: Further reduce comforting sensation of binky to invoke disinterest.

Tantrum Threat Level: MODERATE. It is impossible for Lilly not to notice that the binky has been altered. Thus there is increased likelihood that no one will sleep and everyone will get cranky. [Updated: What was I thinking? Moderate? HIGH! Really freaking HIGH!]

Progress: Umm, maybe? Lilly didn’t even ask for a binky until approximately 12:15 p.m. and actually went down for her nap without it. That’s definitely progress but I think an exhausting birthday party in the morning and a long ride home is more responsible than any binky alterations.

Then there was the first binky encounter when she woke up mid-nap. Lilly struggled to find the words and gestures in her exhausted toddler mind to express that there is clearly something wrong with this binky. After repeatedly pointing to her tongue, she managed to mutter and then repeatedly scream, “Mommy fix it!” and, pointing to the gaping hole in the binky, “Mommy close it!”  Ultimately 2 binkys went flying across the room: rejected. As was the remainder of the nap.

Bedtime was more of the same. It started on schedule at 7:30. It’s 9:15 now and she is still screaming, unhappy with her binky options. We’re getting to the the stage of crying where she’s nearly hyperventilating and I have little hope of sleeping tonight.

Analysis: To be honest, when I first gave Lilly what has come to be known in our house as The One True Binky, and watched her reaction, I had to hold a stuffed animal in front of my face to keep her from seeing me laughing. But within minutes, watching her puzzlement turn to frustration and then just sadness, I almost broke down in tears myself. By bedtime, it was pure dread on my part. It was like knowing that her first true love was about to break up with her and I’d have to get her through the heartbreak. To make matters worse, she appears to be developing a cold with some sinus congestion. It feels cruel to do this to her now, but we’re in too deep. We can’t turn back.

I am in blood
Stepp’d in so far that, should I wade no more,
Returning were as tedious as go o’er.

–Macbeth

Mission: Use pin to puncture tip of each binky several times. Do not deny binky. Do not acknowledge change in binky. If one binky is rejected and another requested, provide another binky with same puncturing.

Objective: To allow airflow and reduce suckling sensation.

Tantrum Threat Level: LOW. Lilly frequently punctures her binky with her teeth. It is unlikely that this will reduce binky usage.

Progress: Not really. Lilly used the binky as much if not more than a typical day since I was not denying any requests for it. She did not seem to notice any difference. She did, however, let me leave her room at bedtime and stay out for approximately 1 minute before requesting a binky.

Analysis: Lilly is still attached to her binky. The best explanation for the bedtime anomaly is that she was distracted by her own screaming to ask for the binky sooner.

Once limited to the crib and carseat (with hopes of encouraging sleep), Lilly now requests her binky when she feels the slightest bit tired, cranky or uncomfortable no matter where or when. This was not a major concern for her first year of life, but she is nearing her 2nd birthday now. And there is a major deadline looming: Preschool. August 23rd. No binkies allowed.

For this seemingly impossible task (at least if we expect any sleep this week), we are taking a page out of my sister’s playbook. Rather than the Shock and Awe…ful tantrums of going cold turkey. We’re going to try a plan of “Mutilate and Disappoint.”

Operation De-Binkification

Pre-Mission Prep: Gather ALL binkies from yonder where they went missing (under the crib, scattered in the car, bottom of the toy box or, in my sister’s case, from the inner workings of the surround sound system). One AWOL binky can undermine the whole operation.

Strategy: Mutilate every binky on a daily and incremental basis in order to instill disappointment and disinterest in binky.

Mission Goal: Voluntary surrender of the binky within a week.