Implements of Pacification

There are several accepted methods for quieting a screaming infant. All of them work some of the time, some of them work more often than others, but none are guaranteed to work on any given occasion. Below is a brief list.

The Pacifier

As its name implies, this is the go-to option for the average parent. Pacifiers come in a dizzying array of shapes that emulate, with varying degrees of success, the nipple that infants would almost universally prefer to the plastic contraption you are forcing into their wailing mouths. Equipment note: they also come in various sizes, and that’s important. Don’t make the mistake of inadvertently choking your 6-week new infant with a pacifier intended for a hulking 1-year old.

Pacifiers have also acquired a variety of overly cute nicknames such as binky, bo-bo, boppy, paci, nuki, plug, chupon, and my favorite—mute button (this is only a partial list—at last count there were approximately 573 frequently used names for this little device, some of which defy logic in their origins).

The most important skill to acquire in the use of the pacifier is the “quick insertion” technique. Finesse may make the motion more aesthetically pleasing, but nothing is more important than rapid response in heading off an approaching crying jag.

An interesting sidebar on the pacifier occurs with twins—well, at least with our twins—and it is a ritual known simply as the Daily Pacifier Exchange. It’s kind of like raising the flag in front of the school or turning the quaint little stop light in the bar to the green “Open” signal. In the morning, when both twins wake up, we bring them into the bedroom to ease ourselves out of sleep mode and into child care mode around 6:30 a.m. We put both twins on the bed, facing each other. One of them automatically looks at the other, reaches out, and takes the pacifier from the other’s mouth and holds it up for inspection. The other twin, also automatically, reaches out and takes her pacifier. After a cursory viewing and rotation, they each insert the stolen pacifier in their own mouths, and go on about their baby business.

I don’t know why they do it, and so far, they aren’t talking—literally.

The Blanket

Next to the pacifier, the blanket is the most common source of comfort for most babies. Like the pacifier, it has also acquired a number of nauseatingly cute nicknames: bankie, bookie, binkie, etc. (My first batch of kids came up with the variation of “bundy” long before Al Bundy became part of Americana).

Even before our twins were born, we had accumulated several dozen items, ranging from beautiful, hand-woven future heirlooms to practical receiving blankets. After they were born, we brought home a few dozen from the hospital, and then went out and bought about twenty more. As any parent can guess, many nights we searched the entire house unable to find a single clean blanket when we desperately needed it.

Stuffed Animals

This is a bit of a crap shoot. Before the kids arrived, we bought a collection of cute little stuffed toys, hoping one would become the beloved plaything each kid would cling to and probably wear down to a bald clump of material by the time they were old enough give up their infant security treasures. So far they haven’t made their choices. My wife, on impulse, bought a five-foot tall stuffed bear at Costco. The kids like it and really enjoy wallowing in it. I’m not sure they recognize it as a creature because of its overwhelming size, and of course, the real problem is, according to the first law of twins, we’ll probably have to buy another one someday.

Holiday Recap

I am a teacher. I am also, obviously, the author of this blog; and a husband, and a not-so-young-father of 10-month old twins.  Those four job descriptions, it turns out, are less than compatible. Now that I am once again on summer break, I am resuming my duties as blogger.

To fill the gap left by the previous nine months of distraction, I offer this collection of highlights of everything that took place between Halloween, 2011 and Memorial Day, 2012.

As you may imagine, it has not been that eventful.

Halloween

The practice of dressing small infants in ridiculously overpriced, and over-sewn, garments for the purpose of eliciting “aww, how cute” responses from neighbors and relatives has a relatively brief tradition. At one time, in a more genteel age—say the 1950’s (the real ones, not the seductively re-imagined, lushly art-directed and loads of fun, “Mad Men” 1950’s) mothers just stuck the little ones in a stroller and slogged about the neighborhood with a couple of clowns whom they had just costumed that afternoon. They would not have dreamed of wasting time, much less money, on an infant or child younger than about five.

But today, we paw through racks of prefabricated costumes for newcomers of literally all ages, fully aware that the $39.99 we spend will be a giant waste of funds that we could have spent on practical stuff like two cups of coffee at Starbucks (ugh), or a round of cocktails at the place we will wind up after looking at the bill for the Halloween costumes.

As is evident by the accompanying photo, I was not able to resist the peer pressure to dress up a couple of uncooperative 3-month olds as, yes, the cutest ladybugs since the beginning of time—the looks of abject terror in their eyes notwithstanding.

Baptism

Despite our astonishing lack of religion, my wife and I seem doomed to comply with a number of liturgical rituals such as a church wedding and a formal baptism. In the Greek Orthodox Church, baptisms rank just above Easter and just below the second coming of Christ in relative importance. It includes a full, triple immersion, an hour-long mass and an exorcism—that’s right, an exorcism. In our case, the priest had no sooner finished the Greek version of the exorcism when daughter number two promptly spit up all over him. No, it didn’t look like green pea soup. It was kind of beige, so I think the only thing he exorcised was the wandering spirit of an interior designer.

Thanksgiving

We had a quiet Thanksgiving, mostly just sitting around being thankful that we didn’t have to do another baptism.

Christmas

I have to be honest, I love Christmas. Over my lifetime, I have amassed thousands of ornaments. My wife has a nearly equal number. So naturally, we went out and bought some more for our twins. After all, this was their “Baby’s First Christmas.” Of course, we bought “Baby’s First Christmas” ornaments last year— when my wife first found out she was pregnant—but those don’t count.

We also have tons of Christmas decorations and lights. None of the lights work. But, like everyone, I keep them anyway, waiting for the Great Spirit of Holiday Lighting to appear, painstakingly test each mini lamp, replace the bad ones, untangle the hundreds of miles of wires, and miraculously re-insert them into the original packages, which I have also kept.

My wife, instead, hired someone to put up the lights for us. This is the ultimate act of emasculation for most men, but I was too tired to argue, even after I paid $234 for a 25-foot ladder on which I had planned to permanently disable myself after hanging half a strand of the non-working lights.

A couple of days before the big night, Santa Claus made a visit to our neighborhood. We bundled up the twins and hauled them out into the street to be photographed with the big guy. As is evident in the accompanying photo, they really loved it—the looks of abject terror in their eyes notwithstanding.

New Year’s Eve through Memorial Day

Not much happened in the first six months of the year.

One of the twins started crawling on Cinco de Mayo. Which was a little anticlimactic, since the other one had already been crawling since Ocho de Marzo.
The main thing worth celebrating was the fact that they both stopped waking up during the night. It may be philosophically nihilistic to celebrate the absence of an event, but you try six months of not sleeping and see how underwhelmingly positive your attitude is…or isn’t.

Oh yeah, they also went down their first slide, ate solid food, saw their first baseball game, got their first five-foot stuffed bear, sat in their first high chairs, went to the beach for the first time, got their first colds, and took their first bath in the bath tub.

They really loved it—the looks of abject terror in their eyes notwithstanding.