We did it.
Sorry, Teresa. The kids loved their blankies so much they were driving us completely crazy. The kids couldn't sleep without them. They wanted to bring them to every place that required sleeping: to Grandma's, on vacation, camping, to their cousin's, and to Rhode Island to see East Coast Nana and Co.
"That is fine," we thought, "we will just make this a lesson in responsibility. If they want to take their blankets, they are responsible for making sure they have them when they leave."
And while the kids did take that responsibility, they always waited until the last second to start looking for their blankies.
And we always let them look.
For as long as they needed.
Because the truth is, we are as attached to the frickin' things as they are.
Those blankies, from their special neonatal nurse, (Z's "Jane" and our friend now), are a reminder of how much our family has been through together. Our friendship with nurse Teresa started because we were in a NICU room with her, watching our babies fight for their lives. And it hurt to be there every day. And it felt hopeless most of the time. And lonely. (Too bad I didn't have a blankie at the time.) And we had to let our tiny daughter go when she too tired to fight. And we had to wonder which one of our kids would be next...which one would require a phone call when we have finally gone home to get some (restless) sleep.
And then...progress, and less beeping on the monitors, and less bad news, and less "we need to let you know"s, and more smiles and growth and hope.
And finally, our kids were big enough to come home, and strong enough to give a blankie to, (knowing that they were in for the long haul and that they would be old enough to appreciate them some day).
(This wasn't the post I meant to write. Sheesh. Stupid blankies are making me all emotional!)
So, the blankies went into the time capsules (aka plastic box with lid). Partly because they were driving us crazy and partly because K and I were scared that, at some point, the kids might have lost or wrecked their blankies somehow, and that loss might be harder on us than it is on them.
After we had "The Talk", and made a big deal out of "The Placing of the Blankies in the Time Capsules", we had dessert, to celebrate being old enough ("five and a HALF") to say goodbye to their blankets.
As we were blowing out candles and eating our Oreo icecream, S said, "Can we have our blankets before we go to bed?"
She said it with a hopeful grin, knowing that the answer was a negative. It was a good, hearty try, and we told her she could have her flowery, holey, sleep-breath-scented thing again when she was eighteen. (We were secretly grateful that they have no concept of time, or this might have been just a little bit more traumatic.)
The kids are doing well. They all slept fine last night.
But I might have to take a quick peek at those darn blankies every so often, when the kids are fast asleep.
