Deflated

04 Apr 2013 Leave a comment

by Natalie in What's a mom to do?

IMG416How do you deflate all of the excitement out of a perfectly happy Easter morning? You pop the little balloon-like farting contraption the Easter bunny left in your basket.

Just ask my 6-year-old son. It was tragic.

He has wanted a whoopee cushion for months now. Somehow the Easter bunny knew this deepest desire and threw one into his basket.

Within five minutes the thing was busted. Apparently you aren’t supposed to fill whoopee cushions up to bulging size then jump onto the bed before slamming down on top of them. Who knew?

I knew instantly by the popping sound that the cushion was toast.

My poor oldest son went from pure joy to pure sorrow in a matter of seconds. He hasn’t cried that hard in a long time. He felt terrible because not only was his new favorite toy destroyed but he was the one who did it. Poor kid.

I have never wanted to jump into my car and drive to Wal-Mart more than I did at that moment. I wanted to get him another cushion. I wanted to take his sadness away.

Thankfully my husband stopped me. He reminded me that my 6-year-old is going to have sorrows and disappointment in life. And although this time I could have easily ran to the store to pick up another toy, next time a trip to the dollar store and $1.07 cents may not patch his problem.

I’m not always going to be able to take his pain away.

I hate that.

So, needless to say, I didn’t run to Wal-Mart on Easter morning. Chances are they wouldn’t have had a cushion anyway. I waited until the next afternoon and we went after school.

But have you ever tried to buy a whoopee cushion on April Fool’s Day? Ha! Good luck. I toted my boys through three different stores before we finally found the silly little fart bags.

I ended up buying two – just in case.

Baiting A Leprechaun, Catching A Cricket

21 Mar 2013 Leave a comment

by Natalie in What's a mom to do?

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This should have been our year. We had 12 months since the last invasion to devise a new plan for catching leprechauns. But despite our best efforts, come St. Patty’s Day morning our traps were empty.

It wasn’t for a lack of trying. My 6- and 4-year olds perfected their leprechaun traps for days as we all were forced to tiptoe gingerly throughout our living room.

After some training from his grandpa (who lived in Ireland for 2 years and is somewhat of a leprechaun expert) my oldest went for a traditional stick-propping-up-the-bucket trap. He used my mopping pail and a slingshot he found camping.

My 4-year-old’s trap was much more complex. He crafted it by using a giant dowel, a small whicker basket, yarn, and two toy grenades tied to the tip of a string.

How those mini men made it past the pair of grenades, I will never know.

Each night for a week before St. Patrick’s Day we would set the traps in hopes of catching a leprechaun. Each trap held chocolate as bait.

But it was all in vain.

The leprechauns made off with the chocolate and left a trail of mess behind.

How do I know that it was leprechauns? Because we have proof.

Caught in each of our traps was a small, bright green leprechaun hat. The hats must have fallen off as they tried to escape.

According to my 6-year-old, those hats are our proof. We also have tiny green and gold shamrock treasures that those pesky men scattered throughout our house.

In the kitchen and bathroom they danced around barefoot, staining the floor with dark green footprints. They hopped onto our kitchen table and left a note and some golden nugget candy pieces.

More proof.

I never know how my boys will react when something evades them, but this time they were thrilled. They sat back, popped a chocolate nugget in their mouths and dreamed of what the leprechauns may have done in our home.

Then we set off for church.

Little did we know that’s where we’d all witness the catch of a lifetime.

Toward the end of our first meeting I spotted a black cricket bouncing up the aisle next to our pew. My boys love creepy, crawly bugs so I pointed it out to them.

Big mistake.

The next thing I knew my oldest jumped over my lap landed on top of the cricket and cupped it in his hands. Then he picked it up by one of its hind legs and swung it within inches of my face.

Keep in mind this all happened in what was supposed to be the most reverent meeting of the day. Oh, and I don’t love creepy, crawly things nearly as much as my boys.

Trying not to squeal, I grabbed him, held him at arm’s length and told him to get that bug far, far away from me. He stood up tall, held his head up high and walked through the congregation pinching that cricket by its leg- all the while smiling from ear to ear.

I had to fan myself with a drawing pad to keep from turning beat red. Then tears streaked down my cheeks as I tried to quietly laugh it all off.

What are the odds that a cricket will enter the chapel? That I would see it? That my son would pick it up and fling it around? Only in my life.

All in all it was an exciting, successful day. Even though my little boys were slightly deflated when they woke up to empty leprechaun traps, they were energized by their new undeniable leprechaun proof.

And what’s better than catching a leprechaun? Catching a cricket in church.

They are both lucky, right?

Don’t Go Down There

14 Mar 2013 Leave a comment

by Natalie in Parenting Battles, What's a mom to do? Tags: , ,

home-alone-basement-7-copyI think my kids have an unhealthy fear of the basement.

My six-year-old is horribly afraid of being down there. Let’s be honest, he’s afraid of being alone anywhere in the house. But when I ask him to go downstairs he nearly hyperventilates.

My four-year-old is OK with going downstairs – until his older brother is around. He’ll be just find playing by himself down there while my oldest is at school, but ask him to go down after they are both home and they’ll sob uncontrollably.

I can sympathize. I don’t love the basement. I too was terrified of going into the dark downstairs when I was a child.

Sometimes my mom would ask me to go downstairs to get something. That’s when I’d make my younger brother go with me. Once I had grabbed whatever my mom wanted, I would book it up the stairs leaving my brother at the bottom crying. I figured if there was something dark and scary it could snatch him up first while I dashed away.

Sometimes when I had to go downstairs alone, I would sing at the top of my lungs in my best pop-star voice hoping that the robber/kidnapper lurking in the shadows of my basement would hear my beautiful voice and think twice before hurting me.

It all sounds so stupid now, yet at the time it helped me survive a scary trip downstairs.

My boys, however, aren’t scared of being snatched by a monster. They aren’t scared of being kidnapped by a robber. They are scared of something much worse – the furnace.

I should never have let them watch Home Alone.

I’ll admit, our old metal venting does crack and pop when the heat is on. And the furnace does roar when it is getting ready to blow hot air. But I don’t think it’s enough to terrify my two oldest children.

Recently, I was rushing to get ready for church while my 8-month-old was taking a quick morning nap. My two oldest were running around out of control (I think it has something to do with church clothes. I put them into church clothes and immediately they’re out of control).

Anyway, I told the oldest two to go downstairs. They wouldn’t. I yelled at them to go downstairs. They wouldn’t. Next thing I knew my baby was awake screaming and I had to tuck him onto my hip as I tried to slap on some make-up and twist a curling iron through a few locks of my hair.

I was furious. I knew that if my boys took their rowdy selves downstairs, I would have had much more time to get ready in peace and quiet while their baby brother slept.

When their dad got home he came up with a solution to getting them to spend more time acclimatizing to the basement. Now we have a new rule at our house – the boys can’t play or watch the Kindle unless they use it downstairs. If you read my recent post about my Electrical Breakdown, you could guess that I think this plan is brilliant.

I’m torn now, there is a lot less Kindle using going on at our house these days, but that also means my two little boys aren’t spending very much time in the basement.

Don’t get me wrong I don’t want to freak my kids out. I would never make them do anything to harm themselves or make themselves really uncomfortable. But I want them to spend more time down in the dungeon so they can realize nothing is going to get them – especially not the furnace.

Is that too much to ask? How can I help them not be so scared?

Swiped

07 Mar 2013 Leave a comment

by Natalie in Parenting Battles, What's a mom to do?

Image

I’ve never understood why people say, “Money doesn’t grow on trees.” Because money is printed on paper, and paper comes from trees. So therefore money really is made or “grown” on trees. Right?

My kids don’t understand the saying either. Because for them money isn’t even made out of paper. It comes from plastic – a small rectangular thin piece of hand-held plastic to be precise.

They know exactly how the magic plastic card works. Just swipe it next to the checkout stand and viola! You’ve just paid.

They aren’t stupid. They’ve seen me do it a thousand times.

I put most of our family’s purchases on my credit card. Not because we can’t pay for what we buy, but because I have big plans to take my little family to Italy next year and am hoping to purchase our airfare with credit card miles. So I charge everything I can then pay my card off every two weeks.

I guess my children have been watching me closer than I realized. Last week I lost my credit card and if it weren’t for the “help” of my 4-year-old I never would have found it.

Now I have written multiple times about my stressed-out-OCD-I-can’t-lose-anything personality. So you can imagine my anxiety when my platinum card went missing. I was certain someone had taken it and was racking up my bill, skyrocketing past my spending limit.

Luckily I checked my account online and no new charges had been made, but I still couldn’t find the card.

I ripped through the house searching every coat, pant and jacket pocket that I own. I tore through my diaper bag and wallet praying I would find it shoved in the wrong spot.

After church on Sunday I stuck my head under each and every seat, nook and cranny in my van, hoping the card had slipped through a crack.

That’s when my 4-year-old spoke up.

“What are you doing mom?” he said.

“Looking for my credit card,” I replied.

“Have you checked my mission jar,” he said.

No. I had not checked his mission jar. Why would I check his mission jar? I never touch that jar – the glass-tile piggy bank he stores coins in. (He’s saving his coins to go on an LDS mission.)

I raced inside and snatched the jar. Sure enough, my shiny plastic card was tucked inside. I was so happy.

Despite my relief in finding my charge card, I still can’t believe he took it. And that he remembered where he put it.

But what I really can’t believe is how smart he is.

He told me he took my card and put it in his mission jar so he would have a way to pay for his “bills.”  You know as well as I that he doesn’t have any “bills.” But I guess it’s better to be prepared. Even if your emergency mission fund is a piece of plastic that comes with a 19 percent interest rate.

He’s as smart as the average American. When you need to pay for something expensive – like a mission – pull out the plastic.

It looks like we need to have a lesson on saving, and then another one on stealing.

I guess my card really was stolen. Luckily, it was taken by someone who isn’t quite old enough to use it – yet.

Out of curiosity I did some online research and found out that United States “paper” money is made of 75 percent cotton and 25 percent linen. I guess money really doesn’t grow on trees.

Real Life Make Believe

28 Feb 2013 Leave a comment

by Natalie in What's a mom to do?

I have a hard time lying to my kids. Therefore I cringe every time they ask me if something is “real.”  IMG379

I know that children and adults have very different concepts of “real,” and so my young boys might not be mature enough to realize that something they “see” is pretend. So normally when they ask me if something is “real” I reply with something diplomatic like, “What do you think?”

It works well with questions like: “Is Hogwarts real?” and “Are Megaladon’s real?”

Deep down I don’t think it’s lying if I go along with their make-beliefs. I certainly don’t want to be the one that stomps out their imaginations and crushes their creativity. But lately they are killing me with their fantastical realities.

Here are a few examples of how “real” our life has been lately:

Gingerbread Revenge

A couple of months ago I wrote about our Gingerbread tragedy. You can read about that here. It was highly traumatic.

I thought we had put the gingerbread cookie fiasco long behind us. I even vowed never to make the mischievous men again. Then my 6-year-old came down with a stomachache. He was positive that the one gingerbread cookie he ate was taking its revenge on his belly. He went so far to tell me that he saw a YouTube video of a gingerbread man attacking someone’s insides. Seriously? Is it revenge?  (Or just indigestion?)

We spotted evidence of those pesky men again last week. They stomped all over our driveway during a snowstorm. There were “gingerbread” prints scattered all along our pathway to our detached garage. (That or they were just melted circles where I had tossed rock salt onto the cement the day before.)

Cupid spotting

My four-year-old came home from preschool one day with Valentine’s Day stickers. He and his older brother asked me about the bow-and-arrow holding naked angel sticker. I told them it was cupid – a baby angel who flies around on Valentine’s Day in his birthday suit shooting people with heart-tipped arrows, making them fall in love.

All day Feb. 14 we “saw” cupid flying around our hometown. We went to a basketball game as a family that evening and spotted cupid dozens of times zooming through the night sky.

On our way into the stadium we saw a long white, pencil-thin pole in the parking lot. They were certain that it was the back to one of cupid’s arrows. (That or just a piece of trash that had been run over multiple times.)

After they were jumping around, thrilled that they found some cupid evidence, I didn’t have the heart to tell them I thought it was garbage. Instead I said something like, “Don’t touch it, it might still have a love spell on it.”

Power to the Rangers

My boys have been training for weeks now to be Samurai Power Rangers. They have been doing their own form of sit-ups and push-ups as well as punching, kicking and sword whacking nearly every pillow in my home. They have masks, spin swords and morphers to assist in their training.

One day while practicing their ninja skills I heard loud, happy screaming from the living room. Their spin swords were shooting off light! (That or the sun was just reflecting off of the silver base of the sword, flashing a burst of light onto our living room walls.) But they were convinced it was a sign that they were true ninjas!

Spy Signal

A while ago my boys were playing with real walkie talkies. They were running around the house shouting things like, “over and out,” and “please repeat that.”

Suddenly someone else jumped onto the same frequency and they picked up another message.

Of course it was a nearby spy. (That or a local hunter or someone simply using a walkie talkie for work.) They tried for hours to communicate with the other person. They carried those black walkie talkies around the house for days trying to send signals to the “spies.” But they never heard them again.

Fossil Find

Last week my boys were paleontologists – brushing off stones and studying them with magnifying glasses. They were certain they had unearthed authentic dinosaur fossils that were buried in my front flowerbed. My oldest began making a fossil discovery checklist. It included things like: it smells like dirt, it has scratches on it, etc.

We have found “fossils” in our yard before. It’s been all I could do a couple of times to talk my 6-year-old down from driving our discoveries straight to the Natural History Museum.

I have a very active imagination. I still believe there are monsters lurking in the corners of my basement. But I am 99.9 percent certain that these “fossils” are just ordinary rocks. I’m not about to embarrass myself in public by claiming there are dinosaur bones beneath my humble home.

So to appease my 6-year-old son, I decided we would write a letter to the Dinosaur Park in Ogden – a place we frequently visit – asking them how to determine if a fossil is really a fossil. We mailed the letter and less than a week later we got a reply. My boys were thrilled that someone wrote back!

The education coordinator at the park didn’t know the exact scientific method for authenticating fossils, but she forwarded our letter on to the man who runs the Natural History Museum in Salt Lake. Hopefully he’ll be able to clear the air on our “fossils.”

I’m sure that if we find out our bits of rock aren’t from ancient creatures, it won’t stop my boys from digging around the yard looking for other dinosaur pieces. Because, the one thing I have learned from my creative kids is you can’t stop their imaginations from rolling.

So while I admit that I don’t like “lying” to my children, I’ve decided it’s more fun to live in the world of pretend. It’s more magical, more adventurous. And there really isn’t any harm in it.

Besides, who wouldn’t want to live in a world where rocks are bones, cookies come alive and a chubby naked baby shoots people on Valentine’s Day?

Lanterns May Still Soar

14 Feb 2013 8 Comments

by Natalie in Dealing with Death, My Angel Baby, What's a mom to do? Tags: ,

Author’s Note: This is an update to my previous post regarding HB217 that is working its was through the Utah State Legislature.

luca lantern

For those of you who didn’t see my special edition of Boogers on the Wall on Sunday, I wrote an open letter to the Utah State Fire Marshal regarding the proposed amendment to the Utah State Fire Code that would outlaw sky lanterns.

We have sent sky lanterns to Luca each year on his birthday. It is such a peaceful, beautiful way to remember my little angel baby on the anniversary of the day I delivered him.

But a proposed amendment to the Utah State Fire Code would classify the lanterns as unattended fires, therefore rendering them illegal.

I have anxiously been watching and waiting for news from the House of Representatives about the proposed amendment – HB217. I signed up to receive email notifications when anything changes.

Yesterday news came.

I received an email stating that the bill’s sponsor, Rep. James Dunnigan R- Taylorsville, modified the amendment. Instead of completely banning the lanterns, Dunnigan proposed that the amendment include an exception: “Use of a sky lantern is permitted beginning on January 1 through May 31 and beginning on November 1 through December 31 of each year.”

I didn’t know if I should cry or jump up and down with joy! It’s amazing what little things make a grieving mother’s day.

The House of Representatives standing committee on Business and Labor gave the bill a favorable recommendation yesterday. I’ll keep watching and waiting for updates.

I know the bill isn’t finalized and things can still change, but the possibility of being able to continue a sentimental tradition on the day my baby flew to heaven has me overjoyed!

Extinguishing Sky Lanters: My Opinion on the Proposed State Fire Code Amendment

09 Feb 2013 1 Comment

by Natalie in My Angel Baby, What's a mom to do? Tags: , ,

Author’s note: This is a special edition of Boogers on the Wall. Normally I’d wait to post this on Thursday, but with the legislative session in full swing  I don’t want to wait another moment before declaring how I feel about a proposed amendment to the state fire code.

lantern

Dear Utah State Fire Marshal Coy Porter,

Before you ban one of my favorite simple, significant traditions I’d like to let you know what I really think of the one-word “Sky Lantern” amendment to the state fire code that will force me to end the only thing I look forward to on the anniversary of my son’s death.

First of all, I’d like to know how a biodegradable piece of floating tissue paper is a big enough issue to warrant so much of your attention.

It seems like figuring out how to better control shrapnel sparks from bullets on mountain gun ranges and people who shoot illegal flame-showering firework rockets into the sky would be more effective in curbing Utah’s annual summer fire frenzy.

The new legislation, proposed by Rep. James Dunnigan, R-Taylorsville, would identify sky lanterns as “unattended fires,” therefore rendering the beautiful floating lanterns illegal.

Have you ever lit one? Have you seen how long the unattended fire burns? Two. Minutes. Max. I have video documentation of several of them rising, floating, extinguishing and falling.

A recent news article quoted you saying, “… we just want to make sure that they don’t have an incident that would cause a lot of damage to property.”

Well, you better ban little toy magnifying glasses and boxes of strike anywhere matches while you’re at it. And how about those throw down snappy things that kids chuck at the sidewalk, even they might pose some sort of fire threat.

Then there’s rubbing alcohol and gasoline. You can’t tell me that they wouldn’t be able to create an “incident that would cause a lot of damage to property.”

In 2011, 355 fires in Utah were classified as “cooking fires, confined to a container.” Does this mean you are going to force Utahns to stop grilling? Should I cancel my plans for my annual Memorial Day barbecue too?

That same year 575 fires were described as “Passenger vehicle fires.” Am I going to be able to continue to ride in a car?

Accidents happen. I understand that there is a small possibility that a stray lantern could malfunction and light another object on fire. I’ll even acknowledge that a neighbor’s tree caught fire after Jimmer Fredette lit hundreds of lanterns last May at his wedding rehearsal in Denver, and that last summer a St. George-wildland fire was started by a sky lantern.

But just because accidents happened and something could be a threat, doesn’t mean that the government should intervene upon my freedoms and tell me that they are going to start controlling yet another small, harmless part of my life.

To propose an amendment that forces me to stop memorializing my son in a simple, elegant way, is yet another unnecessary government control.

If the state of Utah banned everything that Utahns do that might damage property, we’d all end up sitting on couches all day staring at our televisions.

Maybe specific condition-based restrictions are a better idea for the lanterns. Like banning them in the scorching summer months when the dry, brittle grass is more likely to ignite, or not allowing them when it’s windy.

Maybe then I wouldn’t feel like I was once again being told what I couldn’t do with my life.

We have sent lanterns into the sky each year on my son’s birthday. He was born stillborn April 22, 2010.

As my family and I watch mesmerized by the lights raising in the sky it fills me with hope. Hope that my little baby can somehow see the same lights I see. Hope that he may be able to reach his little hand out to touch the top of one of the lanterns. Hope that someday I’ll see him again.

It may sound cheesy, but those lanterns have peacefully connected me to my son the past two years. I like to think they are his floating birthday candles that he blows out before sending back down to me on earth.

The proposed amended fire code will extinguish that sense of hope. Luckily, if passed it would not be implemented until this summer. That means I’m going to light up the sky with them this spring.

Sincerely,

Natalie Clemens

Electrical Breakdown

07 Feb 2013 2 Comments

by Natalie in Parenting Battles, What's a mom to do?

Two weeks ago I was an inch away from setting fire to my Kindle Fire.

After several days indoors with my kids during a three-day weekend I was at my wits end. I couldn’t take the whining, fighting and lying around doing nothing but staring at the black rectangular magic box any longer.

It was turning my boys’ brains to mush and there was a constant “When is it my turn?” hum coming from my living room.

No matter how much I begged they wouldn’t stop.

The Kindle must have known I was plotting against it and decided to give out on it’s own.  The jack where you plug it in to an electrical outlet came too loose and the device wouldn’t charge anymore.

We’ve been waiting for Amazon to send us a new one ever since and I have loved the break. I am amazed at how well my boys have played together without it.

They have lived as paleontologists scratching at rocks, desperately digging for dinosaur bones.

They have started secret workout routines in their bedroom as they prepare to be a new breed of ninja Power Rangers.

They have slid down our mini backyard hill and dug out an igloo-style snow fort in our front yard.

They have transformed my tiny kitchen into the Energy Solutions Arena while practicing bounce passes.

They have unrooted themselves from my living room couch and played more on their own in the past two weeks than they have in a long time. And although I have had to help them clean up a lot more messes – I nearly lost it one afternoon when they dumped every one of their toy tubs out in their room – I have been thoroughly enjoying our Kindle-free life.

I don’t know how other mothers feel, but I feel like my children lazily reach for an electronic device for entertainment. It’s easier for them to zone in to Netflix or tap at an Angry Bird than it is to run around the house finding each other in hide and seek.

I know there are amazing things that my children can learn from the Internet, and it’s fun for them to sit down and try out a new app, but this mom is going to draw up some electronic limitations.

I don’t want to cripple my kids in this electonics-based society. I realize that they will use sophisticated electronic tools throughout their lives.

But I’ve got to find a healthy balance that suits our family.

I am sure that once our new Kindle gets here my children will continue to get plenty of hands-on playing time, but I’m still going to make them unplug, power down the device and play for real.

Sick?

31 Jan 2013 9 Comments

by Natalie in Parenting Battles, What's a mom to do?

I hate going to the doctor. Not because I hate modern-day medicine. But I am a tight wad who hates paying an unnecessary co-pay. And I am really bad at predicting whether an illness is doctor-visit worthy or not.

My youngest son was really sick this week. He was up all night a couple of nights with a really bad fever. Nothing I did could soothe my poor, miserable baby.

After a couple of sleepless nights and I-can’t-stay-awake-for-the-life-of-me-afternoons, I broke down and called the doctor.

And what happened? Absolutely nothing.

I took him in and he was fine. No ear infection. No sore throat. No croup.

Although that is extremely great news, it frustrated the crap out of me.

I can’t tell you how many times my children have been extremely sick during the night and early morning hours, only to make a miraculous recovery right before I take them in to the pediatrician.

I half wonder if my cell phone is magical. It seems like whenever I call to make a doctor’s appointment my children immediately start feeling better.

Then I go back and forth thinking should I cancel the appointment or take them in? It’s like playing physician roulette. .

Normally my guilty conscience talks me into taking them in. That’s what happened on Tuesday. I kept thinking, “What if he really does have an ear infection? What if his ear is burning with pain? What if his eardrum ruptures all because I want to save a buck and keep him home?”

It’s too bad my 6-month-old can’t tell me how he really feels or what really is hurting.

Someone needs to invent a Should-I-Take-Them-To-The-Doctor? kit for moms. It should come with one of those magnified stick-up-the-nose-or-in-the-ear-and-shine-a-light-inside tools. That way I could scan my son’s ears before assuming his new grabbing-at-the-lobe trait is an infection.

It’d also be nice to have a tongue depressor/flashlight combo. Then I could force open his mouth and see how red it really is way back where.

I don’t know how they could do it, but I also would need an is-it-appendicitis? type tummy scanner.

I could use the kit before paying someone else to spend 5 minutes glancing at my child and diagnosing them with a common cold.

I love my kids and I want them to be healthy but I hate feeling like I just gave a doctor $20 for them to tell me to give my child more Tylenol. I am starting to form an opinion that if the doctor can’t fix it, I shouldn’t have to pay.

Especially because usually before I take my kids in, I have already given them Tylenol for two days straight to no avail.

I know that isn’t realistic and deep down I am extremely grateful for my pediatrician. I just get frustrated when one of my babies is really sick yet there is nothing “wrong” with them.

Luckily we are a healthy family who doesn’t visit the doctor very often.

Binky Blues

24 Jan 2013 2 Comments

by Natalie in Parenting Battles, What's a mom to do? Tags: , ,

We are down to one binky at our house. Which means I’m always franticly looking in every nook and cranny for the soothing mouth-sucking device. soothie

I’m constantly on the search for the green hospital-style Soothie that keeps my 6-month-old pacified.

And we all know how well I do when I lose things.

I need to invent a special microchip to plant inside the plastic lining of all binkies. Something that is activated when a baby starts to fuss, sounding off a major alarm and bright flashing beacon, honing all mothers in to the exact location of the life-saving tool.

Of course I’d have to make a different silent-locating system for nighttime. Because although the binky has got to be within a 6-inch radius of my baby’s head, it’s nearly impossible to find in the dark – especially through zombie-style, bloodshot middle-of-the-night vision.

No matter how many times I sweep the crib for the little sucker, I never find it easily. Half the time it’s tucked under my baby’s double chin.

The most frustrating part? Hearing my baby cry while I search for the stupid thing. Because I’m never looking for it while he’s happily playing on his own. I seem to always notice it’s lost when he’s screaming.

And for some reason, it’s virtually impossible for me to crawl beneath furniture and rapidly scan secret corners of my house while I’m carrying around a 20-pound screaming bundle.

It’s a double edge sword. I can put him down and hopefully find the thing much quicker, knowing he will scream at the top of his lungs the whole time I’m searching, or I can run around stressed out with him on my hip while I try to soothe him and search at the same time.

In my defense, the rounded style of the outer part of his binky makes it roll very easily. I could drop it on a flat surface and find it 30 feet away. I do have to admit that 90 percent of the time we find it in one of three places – my pocket, my diaper bag or shoved down in one of the couch cushions.

Why don’t I buy some more? Honestly I don’t know. But deep down I have a sneaking suspicion that no matter how many binkies I would buy, I’d still always be searching for one.

And for some reason my son only likes one particular brand.

I have four perfectly clean, nice, brand new other binkies. But he doesn’t want anything to do with them. They are too short and stubby for him.

A couple of weeks ago I got him to gag on one for an afternoon. I lost his favorite green one in the morning and refused to run to the store for a new one. I thought for sure the green guy would turn up.

I had high hopes that he was starting to adapt to the new style of pacifier. But he was just teasing me.

Once bedtime rolled around, he wanted his favorite one back. He wouldn’t take the new type at all during the night.

It was horrible. I survived the night by acting like his human binky, letting him nurse whenever he made a peep.

Luckily my husband found the old favorite in a toy box the next morning – undoubtedly put there by my four-year-old who helps me lose everything.

I don’t know what to do. I probably should break down and buy a 20 pack of his favorite Soothie kind and stash them in every pocket, bag, bed, blanket, etc.

Although I complain about constantly losing the binky, I wouldn’t want to live without it. That’s why I search like mad when it’s lost.  He doesn’t take it all the time, but when he’s really tired it helps calm him enough so he can sleep. And I definitely want him to sleep.

Deep down, part of me wishes that he were a thumb sucker. I definitely would have a hard time losing that.

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