The Bwankie

Dear Millie,
Last night, I made the mistake of taking you down to the laundry room with me and explaining to you that your blankie was going to take a tubby. You were completely fine with that idea.

Initially.

You exclaimed:  "TUBBY!!  YAY!", clapped your hands and even helped me put in a few random socks that were lying around in the clean clothes hamper. But, when the time came to put in your blankie for its annual washing (lest the ladies at day care decide to wash it for me)(again)(because it's walking by itself and demanding its share of cheerios along with the rest of the class), well, let's just say that were it December 21st, I would have tweeted something about the Mayans being right and everybody! Run for your lives!!!

And it is because of the 45 minutes of sobbing that followed as the dirt and germs and Jimmy Hoffa was being drowned out of your blankie that I swore to myself that next time... next time there will be no "helping Mommy" with the laundry when it comes to your blankie.

No ma'am.  I'll take care of that by myself.

When you're not looking.

Like I often do when I want to eat something without sharing.  Say, that piece of toast that I finally managed to make for myself this morning.  After having given you and your older sister two pieces each, AND yogurt, AND strawberries, AND milk.  And all I want... all I NEED is just one pathetic slice of toast.

By myself.

No sharing.

No explaining why I actually need to eat it for breakfast... my only nutrition of the morning... rather than giving it to you or your sissy to devour instead.

And because of this morning's toast fiasco, I swear that the next time I attempt to do the unthinkable and feed myself, I shall do it in the washing machine.

But, I digress.  Let's talk about your blankie.  OMG, your blankie goes everywhere with you.  You love your blankie.... which you refer to as your bankie, bwankie and wankie.  And FYI, I've been saving up jokes about THAT so that when you're old enough to get them and not repeat them at inappropriate times (looking at your sister here)(see, I can be taught) we can all look back at this time with your bwankie and laugh. Because we need to laugh about it... or we'll cry.  Because that blankie?  It's so many things. It's your cape.  It's your best friend.  It's your tag-a-long on your way to... anywhere.  It's your broom, sweeping up behind you as you walk through the house, through day care or the zoo.  It's your comforter when you've run into the corner of the table... again... or when you get upset that Mommy doesn't give you her piece of toast... or when sissy throws a pea at you and you get upset.  This thing can do what I sometimes can't do... STOP THE CRYING.  Immediately.

But the blankie can also cause some drama.  Specifically, at 4 a.m. when you wake up because you can't find your blankie and Mommy has to stumble into your room, find it for you and then mistakenly think she can go back to sleep.  But, see.... at 4 a.m., this blankie belongs on Mommy's shoulder so you can snuggle into it while Mommy rocks you back to sleep.  And yes, usually a couple of days later I look back on that 4 a.m. nonsense and remember that it's fleeting and there will come a time when I'll wish for one last snuggle with that blankie draped across my shoulder while you snuggle in the crook of my neck and rub the satin border between your thumb and finger as a source of comfort.  But in the middle of living that moment of preciousness?  It's exhausting dealing with that blankie.

I honestly don't know what we'll do if we ever lose this blankie.  I've tried to have Grandma make you another one, but she can't find the same print and let's just say that you are a teeny bit particular about this blankie.  No imposters will do.

And the worst part is... I know that I did this to you.  I made you dependent on this thing. Your older sister... she could care less about a specific blankie.... then again, I made her cry it out at 4 weeks old.  Yea.  Rock Star parenting right there.  Perhaps if she'd had a blankie like that, she wouldn't have been such a nightmare those first few weeks.  But, what do I know?

In your defense, I used to have a blankie that I carried around for a LOOONNNGGGG time.  Longer than I'm proud to admit, actually.  There was a corner of this blankie that always smelled like a cupcake or something.  Which is why I would hold it up to my nose while I sucked my thumb.  Both of which are valid reasons why I haven't pushed you on your blankie issue or your sisters thumb sucking issue.

Both of you will be fine.

Eventually.

And if not, hey... finding out that your Mama wrote about you in a blog for the first years of your life will totally help.

Love,
Mama