I am not by nature an obsessive person, at least on the compulsive level. I like my house tidy, but I don't think about what you don't see. If dust bunnies under the bed don't bother me, I don't bother them. I don't need to have pens lined up or my kids' toys stored exactly the right way. My time is better spent playing with my kids than worrying about the carpet fringe.
I have found some odd habits forming since becoming a mother. First, I started counting bottles. There are eight. At all times I must know where each bottle is, and nothing makes me happier than having all eight clean at the same time. I actually get a little annoyed with my kids if they decide not to finish one, and I have to store it in the fridge instead of washing it.
And now this has transfered to my daughter's binkies. Our son used Soothies, all rubber pacifiers. These things seemed to disappear on a daily basis or show up in bits if the dogs found one. I would just buy another pack. And then he stopped really being interested in them around four months.
My daughter is different. She didn't like the Soothies. She likes the Mams. Mams have these plastic knobs on which the company often places cute pictures such as a baby angel, a heart, or a seahorse. Also they can be pretty colors like pink. We have seven of them. We have always had seven of them. I am obsessed with not losing one. I have made myself late looking under the sofa and crib trying to find one that is missing even though I don't need it to go somewhere. I have the other six, you see. I will mentally go over where each one is at least twice a day. Pink and white in the crib. Angel and heart in the diaper bag. She's sucking away on the all pink one right now.
I know it is a relatively easy issue to psychoanalyze. The bottles and pacifiers are something easy to control, and in a life with two children just seven months apart, there isn't much I can control.
Someday, one of these binkies is going to go missing for real, hidden under a rack of baby clothes at Target, or will experience death as a chew toy.
I hope my sanity will survive.
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J used a pacifier (chuchi) until he was three! only at bed, but if he didn't have one, it was NIGHTMARISH! at about two, we decided to start forcing his hand on quitting, so we simply stopped buying them. i remember the final 2 pack: a red/yellow/blue chuchi and a pink and yellow chuchi. one afternoon, feeling brave, he threw the blue one in the kitchen trash.
ReplyDeletebut, he wasn't quite ready to be chuchi free. so the pink one it was. and then, he chewed a hole in it. but it was the last one! he was not about to give up! i swear to you, half of the rubber chewy part was gone before he finally gave it up for good. the sad, pink chuchi with the hole in it.
we went to a music festival 9 hours from home and when we finally settled down to sleep in our wet tent that first night, we realized pink chuchi had not made the trip.
there is NOTHING like taking your three year old to a Zydeco tent at midnight at a music festival to make him forget all about his chuchi!!