So the last seven days have been...interesting, to say the least.
Last Tuesday, both my girls had dentist appointments; Devon would be seeing the dentist for the first time, so Harper was scheduled to go right before her, thus providing the example of how utterly fun getting your teeth cleaned can be that would compel her to open her own mouth nice and wide when asked to do so. And, in spite of my prediction that she would lose her shit the second anyone tried to pry open her lips, she was quite the trooper:
However, the dentist informed me that her upper jaw is malformed because of how hard she sucks on her pacifiers, and so now it is time for her to give them up. When he saw my look of despair, he said that cold turkey is the best way, and the Binky Fairy should come and take them one night and leave her a nice prize in return.
Next day was one of the marathon meeting my boss likes to have with me. I'm sorry, but in general, I have no desire to be in anyone's company for more than 2 hours, and 1 hour to discuss work seems ample to me, but she likes to have meetings of three or four hours, or more.
The following day, my older daughter, Harper, had an appointment with her pediatric opthalmologist. Harper has strabismus, which is a muscle imbalance, and Brown's syndrome, which has to do with tendon sheaths, or something, and her eyes are crooked and she could lose vision in one eye if we can't get her to start using them together. The doctor said that it is now time to try surgery, and so we scheduled her to go into the hospital on January 20. Since I have had the same surgery for the same condition 4 times in my life, I was able to tell her a lot about what it would be like, and this was the sole topic of conversation for the rest of the day.
Friday, among approximately 874 other things that HAD to be done that day, I attempted to prepare for the arrival of the Binky Fairy. I tore through the house, looking for every errant silicone nipple, then drove to several toy stores to find a toy makeup kit to give as her "prize". We attended her daycare provider's holiday party that evening, then went home and took away her only comfort object.
That night there was only 10 minutes of screaming before she fell asleep, but that was becasue she was tired. The rest of the weekend was unadulterated hell, made worse by the fact that my husband was sick AGAIN, and was just too, too frail to be of any damn use. I'm not saying he does it on purpose, but I will say that my husband always manages to get sick at the MOST INCONVENIENT TIMES, times when we have extra kid considerations, like a 4-day weekend where both girls are home from school and daycare or GIVE UP THE BINKY WEEKEND, which he had admitted was too scary for him to even think about beforehand.
I'm not going to go into details, but I am going to admit - because we have that kind of relationship here - that on Sunday afternoon, I caved. I gave in. I folded. She found a binky that I missed, and I let her have it. I am the worst of all possible mothers: The Mother Who Couldn't Take The Binky Away. My heart was never in the process to begin with. I never felt that just taking them all away and forcing her to deal with it was the best method for her, but with everything else going on, I had no time to think about it. Had I been able to, I would have realized that I needed to find a way to make giving them up seem like her decision, even if it is really mine. I don't know how I will manage to do this yet, but I can tell you it won't be until after Christmas. I don't have the heart to do this to her again this calendar year.
And now? She is sick. Up all night last night with a fever, chills, and a horrible cough.
How is it possible that she and David have gotten sick twice in two weeks, Harper once, and I have yet to have even a sniffle? It's coming, I have no doubt. Just in time for the drive to Tennessee on Christmas Eve.
So if I ever manage to post here again, it will be proof of the afterlife, because I will surely be dead within the next week.