The NUK !

I always said my children would not have nuks (pacifiers) I disliked the look of a baby with a plastic plug in their mouth. I'd rather have a thumb sucker any day!


But God has a way of making me eat my words. While David was in the hospital we made the choice to give him a pacifier in the hopes it would help him learn to suck and he would be able to lach on and nurse soon/better. Well, after returning home I found excuses not to "throw" out the plastic plug, it was nice on drives, it worked wonders in church, the grandmas really liked to have it while babysitting . . . all in all the truth be told I had become dependant on the nuk to keep David quiet when I didn't want him to be loud.

All seemed well and good, I told myself (and unfortunatly others) that when the "free" nuk from the hospital (is any thing they give you there really "free" ?) was gone, whether that be lost, stolen or otherwise, it would be gone for good - I wasn't going to buy one and it would be the perfect opportunity to ween David of it.

Again I would eat my words.

One fatefull Saturday, we went to visit my parents.

Mom and I went garage saleling for a while, leaving David at the house in the charge of my younger sisters. When I returned David, poor baby, was more than ready to nurse and was only being held off by being rocked by his Aunt Faith and sucking on his ever faithful nuk. Well to make a long story short I nursed him, and later that evening we prepared to leave . . . but were was the pacifier? It was not to be found (and still has not been now several weeks later) So I thought, "well I guess it's pacifier weening time!"

On the drive home David got fussy, and I wished for the nuk. That night as we watched a movie and David started to fuss I wished for his nuk. And most certainly the next day in church when the poor little guy would NOT be happy did I most heartily wish for that nuk!

As I walked with him in the back of church I noticed the lost-and-found box sitting in a corner - there right on top sat a NUK! Oh' how I longed that it was mine. I continued to pace with my unhappy child, each time I passed that box I grew more envyous of whomever that nuk belonged to. Finally as David REFUSED to be comforted and as I was at the end of my rope, my longings became to intense and I made my choice. I would borrow the lost-and-now-found nuk. I took it to the kitchen and washed it really well. And then popped it into Davids mouth . . . he LOVED it, even better than his old nuk, I was hooked. When I was told after church to keep the nuk as the lost-and-found items were rarely claimed and were destined to soon make a one way trip to GoodWill I couldn't resist. And that is why, my friend, we again have a nuk in the house!