The Pacifier Fairy

Well, I'm feeling a little guilty. Yesterday, the Pacifier Fairy came and collected all Claire's pacifiers in a ziploc bag with an attached note:

Dear Paci Fairy,

I am Claire. I am three and a half years old. I have loved using these pacies and please find a little baby girl who will use them and love them as much as I did . I am a good girl. I am excited to be 4. I love princesses and I love getting presents. Please have a good night and sprinkle some fairy dust on me so I can sleep all night without my paci. I love my paci.

Love, Claire

In return the paci fairy left Claire a box of Disney princesses. Our past with pacifiers is sordid and complex. It's love/ hate. It's complicated.

Ethan used a pacifier, but when we lost his cherished pacifier on the ride from Montana to Boston, it was over. He was 15 months and it was fine. Elliot used his pacifier until he was three -- but it was only at night (easy to hide the shame of an old toddler with an oral fixation) and once he turned three, it was difficult, and after a few days, it was manageable. When Claire was born, we were still at the hospital, and she was nursing to death and I needed a break. Ever the dutiful husband, Cort went seeking a pacifier. The good nurses at the nurses' station started giving him some lecture such as, "Do you know how difficult it is for babies and pacifiers? First, nipple confusion, and later, to get them weaned off?" Cort knew I was desperate for something other than myself, and so he curtly replied, "Listen, we've done our own cost/benefit analysis. Do you have a pacifier or not?" She handed him one, and he thankfully brought our little beautiful perfect daughter her new beloved friend.

Through sharing a tiny apartment bedroom with two loud-sleeping brothers, through the ordeal of moving across the country, through having to have a room all by herself, through potty training, through the stress of getting a new baby sister, Claire and her pacifier stuck with each other. I tried to convince her at age two to give it up. When Charlotte was born I took a break, figuring that she was bound to regress in some way -- better this than with potty training. After a few months, I even tried to level with her. ("Do you really want to be three years old and walk around with a pacifier?" Muffled reply: "Yep! That sounds great!"). Last resort - I even tried to tell her her teeth would go crooked -- to which she looked startled, took a moment, then replied, "That's ok. Emma (her 14 year old best friend) had metal on her teeth that made her teeth go straight. I'll just get that, too. Don't worry about it, Mama."

I have learned not to get in power plays with my children. If I can't use some underhanded manipulative device, I just give up. Which is exactly what I have done for the last six months. Charlotte turning 1 made me realize that this pacifier thing is not going to resolve itself. Then the other day I heard from a friend that the pacifier fairy idea really works -- you turn your pacifiers in for a present. No one likes presents more than Claire. I figured it would be a perfect proposition. The first night's attempt failed. "I really don't like presents, Mom. I'd rather have my paci." "How am I supposed to play with my belly button without my paci in my mouth?" "Just look at my mouth! It needs a paci in it!" But the second night, last night, she was gung ho. "Let's go find all the pacies in the house!" Hooray. The boys played along, trying to hide their shame of the fraud being perpetrated on their sister.



It worked. She was so excited. She was proactive, convincing us how old she is, I thought the whole thing was going to be great. She fretted a bit right before she went to sleep -- she checked under her pillow and called me into her room. "She hasn't come yet. I think this is going to take all night. Why is the paci fairy so mean?" I admit it, that stung. I walked away, hearing her sing a few bars of Annie's "Tomorrow," in her faintest, sweetest, and most defeated voice. "You're only a day away."

She woke up in the morning (after sleeping all through the night -- a feat that hasn't happened very often lately) refreshed, excited, and proud of herself. And we were proud, too. She was so excited about her gift and being able to kick the pacifier habit. But I couldn't help but be a little sad at the whole thing. Watching the video makes me cry. I'm a horrible person. I'm sad that the kids are growing up. I'm sad that Claire has taken this momentous step. I'll never again have another child that can be quieted during a solemn church meeting by sticking a pacifier in his or her mouth. I'll never be able to reach for that tried and true tool that helps kids' ears pop back to correction in an airplane. I'll never be able to hand them that magic feather that helps kids be brave enough to handle sleeping in a new bed, a new house, or a temporary spot while on vacation. Good bye, pacifier, old friend.

Post script. Elliot stopped me in the hall after Claire went to bed. "Did the paci fairy come to me?" I started sternly, "Elliot..." He held up his hand and walked away saying, "I'm just saying, I wish you'd come up with this three years ago..."


Second post script. Claire is happy to be done with her pacifier. The second night was no trouble at all. Yay. I guess the end justified the means.