Prelude to A Paci Fairy

Returning to school after the Memorial Day weekend was difficult, at best.  And I would say that Everly might agree.

On Tuesday morning, no one wanted to get out of bed.  As I gently tried to wake her, with eyes still closed, Everly said, "Nooooooooo.....I want to stay in mine beeeeeddddddd!" And "My tiiiirrrredddd!"

To top it off, on Monday she had found a paci that I had bought for her when she was a baby that was very different from all of her others; this one had a shape of a butterfly, a differently shaped sucky part, and was pink.  And she had it in bed with her.  And she knows she can't have pacis out of bed.  And she wanted it.

To this point, Everly has been allowed to have pacis when she sleeps.  Much like Cortlan, who had pacifiers until early in the summer after he turned two, our plan has been to deal with the potentially difficult transition once the 5AM wake up call for work is done with for a little while.  I know we should have done it a long time ago.  (Don't judge me.)  Not once has the paci come out of bed since she turned one.  The boundaries are clear.  And we have a plan that involves the Paci Fairy.

But back to Tueday morning.  She wanted to take the paci to school.  She wanted to put the paci in her pocket.  She was having a rough morning.  I compromised, and we made a deal.  She could carry her paci in her pocket in the car, but then we would have to leave it there.  And she couldn't put it in her mouth.

Somewhere along the line, I lost my guard and made some really bad decisions.  Because before I knew it,  Everly was lying on her cot at school at 6:50 AM with her blanket, her snuggie bear, and a butterfly shaped pink paci in her mouth.  Sheesh.

Fast forward to pick up time.  The report from her teacher was not a good one.  Most of the behaviors clearly stemmed from sheer exhaustion.

We got home, and she was still a mess.  She cried about this.  She cried about that.  And then, she said she just wanted to cry in her room.  Well, ok.  We all need a little quiet time and space every now and then.  She closed the door behind her.  When I checked on her a little while later, she was laying in her bed with her feet propped up, sucking on her paci.  "Come out of bed," I said, "And get that paci out of your mouth."

She was not happy.

She was not happy a little while later, either, so she slammed her door.  But, Cortlan, who is now at doorknob height, was standing in the doorway.

As he cried, I asked her to apologize, at which time she bagan to cry some more and express her desire to lay in bed again.  I told her she was welcome to go to bed, but she does not get her pacis as a reward for slamming the door into her brother's head.  I took the pacifiers out of her bed.

Thus began the paci war.

She screamed.  I need my pacis!!
Tears rolled down her reddened face as she frantically searched for them.

I tried to reason with her.  I tried to calm her down.  I tried to give her alternatives.  I tried to make her laugh.  When none of that worked, I walked away.

From the kitchen, I heard her in the bathroom.  Is she getting the bathroom stool? I looked at John.  She was!  She took that stool into my room to get the pacifiers from my dresser.  I beat her to it and took them into the kitchen.  She brought the stool into the kitchen, screaming all the way.

I need my pacis!!!

But they were out of sight.  "Not until bedtime," I told her.

This went on, and soon it was time to sit down for dinner.  Except Everly wanted no part of it.  There was only one thing on her mind.

Three of us ate, while the fourth screamed, her dinner getting cold.  At some point, she took me up on the offer of a hug, and sat on my lap as she calmed down.  After probably 45 minutes of a paci rage, she finally was calm enough to have some dinner.

The evening progressed, and after swinging on the swings for a little while, we came in for an early bath and bedtime.  There was no resistance on that one.

When Everly was dresesed and ready for bed, and I was holding her, she started to say to me, "I need my p..." then she looked around.  "I need my pa..." And then looking around some more, settling her eyes on her stuffed animals, "I need my pooh bear."  So, I looked at her and said, "Do you want your pacis?" with full intent to give them to her, as promised, at bedtime.

And do you know what she said?

NO.