Confession

This is Maximus. My dad is Nurse J, who, apparently, doesn't know how to use the shift key to capitalize letters and has atrocious spelling.

Anywho, I'm doing a guest post. I need a place to vent, and probably nobody reads my pops' blog, right? So I'll just blow off some steam into that vast emptiness known as cyberspace. Plus, my dad is currently making dumb faces at my new little brother Brutus. I just can't win. And I was doing so well......

Before I get too far ahead of the story, please allow me to introduce myself.

My name is Maximus. I've been addicted to pacifiers my whole life, all three and one half years.

If this was a real BA (Binkies Anonymous) meeting, this is the part where the crowd would say, "Hi Max."

This is my story.

So, like I said, I'm addicted to pacifiers. Or binkies, like we say on the street. I was good, too. sometimes I would 'lose' one or two of my binkies and get my old man to get me another one. I'd go to sleep and have the sweetest nighttime ever. Me old man would only find out about it in the morning, when he would come in to wake me and would find me with one in my mouth and one in each hand.

Sometimes I'd even rub the Mr Binky down the side of my face. My dad never understood why I did it, and to tell you the truth, I don't know why myself. I just had to do it. Call it a benign form of binky obsessive compulsiveness. Luckily my parents thought it was cute and endearing. Or not.

Maybe that is why they thought it was time for Mr Binky to take a hike. My mom had tried, years and years ago. Her timing was off, however. She tried to wean me right after we moved and I got sick. According to her, I was doing just fine, and would have quit the bink successfully if it hadn't been for that move and that darn cold.

Earlier this year she tried again. Some friend of hers told her about some program that had worked for her kid. It was a psychological ploy-type thing. First, you tell your kid they don't need the binky. Create friction between the two of you. Say things like, "Ew, gross, look at that thing. It's all cracked and grody-it's probably crawling with infection. It doesn't even look clean after I run it in the dishwasher anymore." Yeah, lady, duh. It doesn't belong in the dishwasher, it belongs in my face. And I like the way it looks, I've just got it worn in.

My mom's friends' kid bought the story. So one day, when they were cruising on the freeway, she rolled down her kids' window and asked him if he was ready and if he was to sling that bink out the window. According to my moms' friend, the kid did just that. On the freeway. You can't come back from that. Wow. If that story is true (and I have my reservations), that is one brave kid. Cold turkey. I could never do it, at least not voluntarily.

So my mom bought the whole thing. Tried it out on me. She knows I have a thing for garbage trucks (what can I say, I'm a sucker for heavy machinery) so one day she had me collect all my binks. Put them in a plastic bag.....

Wow this is worse than I thought. I told myself I was past the worst of the pain, but putting my words down on screen is harder than I imagined. That shrink better be right about the 'therapeutic value' this will have for me...........

So. I put them in a plastic bag and on garbage day, we walked down to the dumpster and threw them in. I don't know what came over me. Or why I actually did it. I mean, why? In my defense, I was only almost three years old. I'm a much older 3.5 year old now. Then we watched as Mr Monday Garbage truck dumped and drove away with my binks.

The shock of it didn't really set in until nap time later that day. It hit me like a ton of heavy stuff. What the frankenweiner had I done? What had I DONE?!?!

I did everything I could think of, and even learned new things. Stalling became my standby. Get a drink, go to potty, request another story, another song-and repeat. Basically, anything to make nap and night time as much of a mess for my parents as possible. I didn't have to say it, and they didn't ask, but we knew the score. One binky, and all the sleep time troubles would go away.

My dad cracked first. My mom was a rock. I'm not sure why she hated Mr Binky so bad, but she did. Some nonsense about messing up my teeth. Lame. Binky use only during nap and nightime isn't going to front anyones teeth. Sheesh.

Like I said, my dad cracked first. Went to the store, bought me some brand spanking new, top of the line 18 month Avent beauties. All while muttering something along the lines of, "They don't even make them for 3 year olds! Yes, thank you Tear-git, for judging me. My kid has a problem. I don't care, I just need to SLEEP!"

The nightmares are probably what got to him. I'll bet he hated to hear me startle awake screaming and crying in the night. If only I had something to help comfort me in my darkest sleepiest moments......

He bought me some more binkies and things were a little dicey between him and my mom for a while. But they got over it.

Until the 'Big Boy' Campaign in the summer of '10. They went all out. New bed, with side rails and room underneath for three totes worth of toy bins. Toy Story spread with matching pillowcase and sheets. And all the talk about big boy this and big boy that and big boys don't need binkies and binkies are for babies. None of your friends used binkies and blah, blah, blah. I didn't care, I wasn't ashamed of my love.

However, I couldn't resist under the weight of the cumulative attack. So I made it off of the binky. I was clean for almost four months.

Then Brutus made his appearance. I went to preschool like normal one day, come home and boom-Mom's skinny again and I have a BROTHER?!? Is that how this works? All that stuff about, "You're going to be a big brother soon," was real, man. Not just talk.

And so this is what it means. A sibling. Some one to look after on the playgrounds. Someone to blame for stuff besides the cat.

And once more, it means there are pacifiers in the house.

Oh, just to put it in my mouth and taste that sweet plastic goodness once more.........

I swear, it was only that one time, and I confessed right after......

I'm gonna need some help.