Which One of Us is the Addict?

As the girls' third birthday approaches we have been working on shedding the baby habits. Though they are still in cribs (and will be until they scale out on a regular basis, cribs are my favorite parenting tool) we are really ramping up the potty training and are planning to make the switch from high chairs to boosters soon. The last remaining "baby" toys have been cleared out and preschool starts Thursday. That just leaves one looming hedge to leap.

The paci.

Oh how Calamity Jane loves the pacifier. She has a very specific type, the pink and yellow latex Nuk. Woe to any child who might have one at the playground for they are the object of Jane's fury. And that is not a position you want to be in. One of the few words she has? Papa! And she is not talking about her daddy.

The past couple of weeks we have gently started the pacifier removal campaign. It has always been limited to the crib but now it is put away immediately upon waking in the mornings and after naps. No more using it during time outs, no more sneaking it when mommy isn't looking. Or when mommy pretends not to see because she is happy to have some peace and quiet. Which gets down to the one remaining problem with giving up the pacifier.

Me.
I am a total paci addict too.

It became very clear to me today how addicted I am it when I was dragging a full on temper tantrum throwing CJ to nap. As she kicked at me during the diaper change, I quickly pulled out a pacifier and shoved it in her mouth. Ah, instant happy child. The glazed look came over her face and I was able to change her diaper and put her down for a nap (without a book even) in total silence. Like the boob once was, it is the cure all. And I just don't know that I am ready to let it go. Is there a support group for paci addicted parents?

Naptime: how I love you, how I loathe you

It is 12:30pm, do you know where your kids are?

Unless something has gone awry or the husband has decided to drive by one last house, mine are in their cribs. Probably not asleep but in their cribs nonetheless. Or more accurately one is in her crib and one is in a pack and play in the other room because sharing a room works great except at naptime. Draconian? perhaps, but sanity saving. Trust.

During naptimes on the weekend my husband and I can actually talk to each other, watch a movie, or work on a house project. Or more likely I can escape for a couple of hours to garage sale or wander around Target aimlessly while the husband watches the futbol (scocer if you're not feeling European though football makes an appearance during the fall).

During the week though, naptime is a double edged sword. I live for it and when it arrives I am ready just to plop down and veg. But the guilt starts to set in... clothes need washing, toilets need cleaning, calls to be returned and bills to be paid. And a husband who knows that those girls nap for a good two hours during the day. But instead of doing any of those many tasks I am eating soup and watching Miami Social. Now if I could only do it guilt free.