Folks, I’ve descended to a whole new level. Instead of pondering world peace or coming up with interesting dinner topics, I’ve become fixated on the bippy. Boppy. Bippy. Nuk. Pacifier.
This is a perviously foreign object to us. My recent memories of these rubber soothers are pop culture related. I’ll spare you from the Britney Spears pic, but here’s what I’m talking about – straight from Fashion Week.
If I could find the picture of Left Eye Lopes with one, I’d tack it here too. Imagine the fun the search engines would have with that. Back to the point, we don’t usually have any pacifiers in our house.
No, as babyless adults, we have skipped pacifier purchases in favor of beer. I know. Surprise. When our friends with twins (FWT) came to visit, they came armed with a few carefully selected pacifiers. There seemed to be a “travel” one and a regular one for each child. I’ll admit, we lay in bed the first night of their visit thinking, why not just carry a case of them? Perhaps sew clothing with hundreds of pockets to jam them into. Because it’s the simple law of babies, right? Nothing stays in their mouths.
Pop! Pacifier on the floor! Rinse! Pop! Dog is licking pacifier! Find a new one! Pop! You get the idea. With thousands of pacifiers at the ready, you are prepared for any popping crisis. The FWT did a remarkable job keeping track of those suckers. They didn’t need thousands because they never lost sight of the ones in play. But I’m scatterbrained (at best, y’all) and I’m going to need buckets full.
I wouldn’t be obsessing over the little things but for the pacifier that turned up in our dog’s GIANT CRAW after the FWT left. I doubt they want it back at this point. Maybe it’s the poop he just licked off his paw. No, I’m kidding. He wasn’t licking it, HE WAS CHEWING IT LIKE BUBBLEGUM. At any rate, here is this tiny blue pacifier and it’s in our laundry room on our dryer which begs the question, what do we call it?
I grew up in an (obviously by this point) pacifier house. The thing is, this is a lot of syllables and it seems people have begun to shorten it drastically. Bippy is a favorite. I’ve heard boppy. Since I’ve also heard folks refer to pillows and seats as boppies (is that even the correct plural?) I think boppy could be confusing. But bippy is the name of my mother’s dead cat and, well, you can see why I’m not jumping at the chance to use that. Then there’s the economical nuk. This is one syllable and reminds me of Nanook of the North. I understand both bippy and nuk are brand names though, which makes sense.
So what are we going to call it? I’m leaning toward paco just now. See? Where’s the paco? No, the blue paco. No dammit! The BLUE paco. Forget it, just give me the damn red paco and leave us alone. Oh wait, it wouldn’t happen like that, I promise. For the baby. By the way, I am pronouncing this pahco like a Sonoran guy I once knew and not peco or packo. Let’s be clear about that anyway. No! The BLUE one!
Sorry. Distracted by my future. Anyway, I’d like to know. What do you call your pacifiers? I assume if you have the this one, you just go with “bling”…
Filed under: First Trimester | Tagged: babies like links right?, decisions, we're bringing a baby into this?! | 8 Comments »