Diary of a Binky Addict


My first spawn was what you would classify as an “easy” baby. I use those quotes because all babies require a lot of care. I was fortunate that he was a good sleeper and was generally pretty content. (All you Mom’s out there booo-ing me for stating that my baby was easy, please relax. Rest assure that my second baby was where I paid the piper. He howled at the moon every night). Our baby boy #1 was mostly content due to the fact that he loved his binky and was down for whatever as long as he had that.
Some babies love their blanket. Some kids get in love with those animal head tiny towels. I don’t know what the hell they are called. All I know is someone got rich off of something I should have invented. I figure if I’m going to invent a product it should be baby related. New Mom’s are such easy prey for marketing companies. You can convince that panicked postpartum basket case that she needs anything. While we are on this topic, I’d like to take this time to admit I bought a Sophie le giraffe. The giraffe teething toy that was around everywhere. Um, 22.99 at Babies R Us. Those things probably cost 50 cents a piece to make. What, Sophie thinks she is fancy because she’s French? More like French prostitute. Hm.. Sorry I’m lashing out in hind sight. Think about how many better things I could have spent $22.99 on! In my defense, I purchase said french hooker when I was 8 months pregnant and Ben was learning to walk. So he regularly crashed around our house like a drunken sailor and would whack his head on the coffee table, toy box, or whatever was close by. So it was a good age for him to sit in a shopping cart where he was entertained but couldn’t harm himself on everything. So we shopped. Oh well. Ultimately, Sophie ended up getting left at a friends house and their dog ate her. Or married her. I’m not sure of the details.
Any who, Expensive giraffe teething toys, blankets, fuzzy bears, and jumperoos just didn’t do it for him. No, Benny and the Jets only had one thing he needed to be happy.

One week old. Hooked.

ALLEGEDLY, next week we are going to pull the plug on the pacifier. He will be two next month. It has been only in his crib for 8 months now. It isn’t going to be fun, but it’s time. In honor of this momentous occasion. I figure I’d share Ben’s diary I found. Ya, he can read and write. He’s very gifted. (And he wasn’t even breast fed! Remarkable.)
Do you understand sarcasm?
Continue friendship.

Although Ben can not read and write. I can only assume this is what his diary would say. Since I have been having a one sided conversation with him for two years. I’m pretty sure I know what he’s thinking. haha. Or so I think.  I’ll have to translate. Because Ben doesn’t speak English right now. He only speaks terrorist toddler. Ex: “No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. Noooo. No. No. No. No. Dad’s truck?” And I have to do this because Look Who’s Talking was one of my favorite movies when I was little. Now I only love it more because I’m a Mom. I always wonder what they are thinking! So here is what Ben’s diary would sound like. Feel free to plug in Bruce Willis as his voice.

You should know that in our house hold we call the pacifier “B”. Ben couldn’t say binky. So he would call it B. Husband and I also started calling it “B”. Therefore, Ben never learned to say the word he was originally looking for. We all just settled.

Dear Diary,
 I am 5 months old. I am laying in the mommy/daddy bed. It is glorious. Mom is sitting on her floor puking into a wicker basket garbage can. Wicker for your trash? Ya it may be cute. But, FYI the puke leaks out. I can’t really understand what Mom is saying on the phone in-between throwing up. She talks real fast when she calls her sisters. I just keep hearing, “Can’t believe I’m pregnant again.” then more barfing on her floor. I don’t know what any of that means but this B is delicious. 

Dear Diary,
 Who wore it best?!? A “B” is the perfect accessory for a dinosaur shirt. Everyone knows that Jenna. Victory is mine.

Dear Diary,
 I love that Mom’s giant belly has slowed her down. Taking a nice nap with my B and my Mom. Perfect.


Dear Diary,
 Mom has banished the B’s to my crib. She even makes me throw them back in before starting the day. She is the worst. 

Sometimes I just stay in my bed in the morning and count my precious. No one is going to steal my B’s. Especially not with my creepy Panda friend as my body guard. Bandit ate his nose for lunch one day. But he survived. So nobody messes with him. 

Maybe i’ll stay in here for the rest of my life. Who knows. All I know is if starting the day means leaving these guys behind, I think I’ll just hang here. 


Dear Diary,
 Ah ha!! Having a baby has made Mom weak. I now have had my B out in many places. Victory is mine.

Dear Diary,
Ugh back in the crib. I suppose I’ll learn to talk now, to show this lady I mean business. I didn’t feel the need to say words. But now I will talk to remind her that I’m thinking about my B all day long. I even tried to smuggle one out of the room in my shirt yesterday. Epic fail. Try again tomorrow. 

Dear Diary,
 Mom thinks she is taking the B’s away. She is crazy. Good luck with that lady. I mean com’on. Think about all the good times we’ve had…

Hanging with my BRO





Reading with my Momma!


Visiting Dad’s boat!



And of course, hanging 10.

So Game on Momma. Let the battle begin…

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