Pure, unadulterated HELL

That's what our house has been for the last 48 hours.

I decided on Tuesday, after a trip to the pediatric dentist, that the time had arrived to bid adieu to Nat's beloved pacifier, affectionately known around here as "suckah." The dentist revealed that his jaw was becoming slightly misaligned, rated it a 7 out of 10, and told me that if I took it away that day that his jaw would return to normal. If I didn't? His adult teeth would have white spots, his jaw would be unable to return to its original position, and...the worst part? He would shpeak like thish. Okay. 'nuff said. Her advice as to how to deal with it was simply suggesting that the sucker was lost, making a huge deal out of finding it, and telling him that it was gone but reinforce that it's okay to go to sleep without it. Sounded easy enough to me, and he only used it at night anyway, so I didn't figure it would be all that bad.

Oh, how wrong was I. Nat's bedtime is 8 p.m. He didn't fall asleep that night until right before midnight, and then was up again at 2:10, 3:12, 4:30, 5:17, 6:15, and up for the day at 7. He was in an ugly mood all day yesterday, and we figured that he'd pass out at bedtime last night. Not so. Last night? He was up ALL. NIGHT. LONG.

He's upstairs now attempting to nap, wailing for his sucker. I know if I cave in and give it to him he'll immediately fall asleep. It's killing me to hear him like that. I feel like an awful mother, because I took away his biggest source of comfort outside of myself, but it's time, right? The boy has been speaking in complete sentences for many months now. He can recite his ABCs and count to 10, draw a perfect circle - surely he doesn't need his sucker anymore. Right? He'll get over it. He won't hold a grudge against me. He'll still be my baby.

Thankfully Savannah loathes her sucker unless she happens to have a rough night, so it's easy to keep hers out of sight. I feel like I've been run over by a cement truck, though, and can't take another sleepless night. I'm hopeful that tonight will be a little easier, and by the weekend, all will be forgotten. If any of my hundreds (ha ha) of readers have any insight as to how to make this any easier, I would appreciate your feedback. He has his other beloved object, his blanket (Binky), and I thought that Binky would just take over, but I was wrong. I'm at a loss.

I've also realized that my studies and degrees in psychology and all of the knowledge I've acquired is 100% lost on my own child. He knows when I'm trying to psychologize him, and he'll give it right back to me in his own psycho-toddler way. Smart guy.

Savannah is babbling, and she has a sweet, adorable voice. She says dada, but we're not sure if it's intentional or not. She'll say it while looking at Hubs, so it's entirely possible. She also says gee-tee while looking at the cat. Cute.

We had a swell Thanksgiving. Spent it with my parents and younger sister. In a moment of insanity, I decided to go shopping on Black Friday. Both kids were up for most of the night, having been thrown off their schedules by the turkey day travel, so at 4:12 a.m. on Friday I decided to head out to see if it truly was a crazy day. After spending 2 1/2 hours on line at a certain store I've decided that I'll never do BF again. Ever. I had the fortune of witnessing a man punch a woman in the face over a vacuum cleaner. White trash at its finest.

I'm continuing to baffle doctors with the medical stuff. My PCP will now be contacting specialists in every area of medicine to see if something about my case rings a bell with them. He's thinking some kind of chronic autoimmune issue or the possibility of having contracted a virus during my c-section or while in the hospital. So now I have to sit back and wait. It's not fun, but at least I feel now like he's actually doing something more than just throwing random drugs my way. He gets it. Last week he prescribed the Medrol Dosepak to see if it would create a break in the symptoms. I felt 100% better on days 2 and 3 of the prescription, but immediately returned to how I was feeling once I stopped taking more than 1 pill at a time. To me this would indicate that these symptoms are being caused by some kind of inflammation, but I'm not the MD, and I've learned through all of this that most doctors don't appreciate having their knowledge questioned. All I want for Christmas is an answer.

As we're getting more into the holiday season, I can't help but be grateful for what I do have, though. I love seeing Nat getting excited over the prospect of Santa. I love that he gets it this year, and I'm proud that he also knows that Christmas is a day to celebrate the birth of Baby Jesus. For as much as I lament over what I don't have, I'm so incredibly grateful for my little family here. And really, that's all that matters.