February 25, 2009
It all started when I was really young. I had a “safety blanket”, which didn’t seem to be a blanket at all. In fact it wasn't even a toy, a book, or anything that was material like at all. My safety blanket was my index and middle fingers on my right hand. I never sucked my thumb; instead I turned my hand with my palm facing the sky and stuck those two fingers in my mouth. This soothed me. I did not suck them; I just held them at the top of my mouth and rubbed my tongue on the back of them. Somehow, this gave me comfort. And for as long as I can remember I did that.
Every time I slept, they were there. My mom tried everything to make me stop. Her favorite way to try to get me to stop when I was younger was wrapping those two fingers to my ring finger and pinning a sock over my hand to my shirt. Somehow though, the sock came off and the tape was ripped off and by morning, there I was with my fingers in my mouth.
My biological son, Ethan had a “safety blanket” too. It was this bear that had a blanket attached to the body of it. Something my mom bought from Avon. He had one and his adoptive brother had one. But Ethan was attached to his. He would carry it everywhere his parents said. I saw him bring it church and he wouldn’t let it go.
For some reason, I liked it. I liked the fact that he had something he loved so much that he would rarely let out of his sight. And I wanted my daughter Tarrah to have something- a “safety blanket”- if you will. I have this habit of trying to make things happen: such as trying to find something to have Tarrah get attached to, just so that I could say someday that that was her “safety blanket.”
There was this rabbit that Tarrah got from Old Navy that I had her sleep with and tried my hardest to get her to attach to it. I asked her if she wanted to take it places and if she wanted to hold it at certain times. That plan fell through.
Then there was “The Icky Sticky Frog” book. Still is her favorite book, and she wants to take it to bed and grandma’s when she visits, but I still didn’t think that it was a “safety blanket” type of thing for her.
I think that at some point I just stopped trying to make a situation with these things. And now she REALLY has a “safety blanket.” Its name is Momo, a.k.a. Larry the Cucumber from Veggie Tales. Sure enough, this cucumber is her favorite thing of all time. Luckily, her Meemee (my mother) got her a stuffed Larry the Cucumber for Christmas, and now she cannot part with it. She watches Veggie Tales all the time holding her Momo. She got Veggie Tales fruit snacks and would not eat the Larry the Cucumber ones because if she did then he would have “a boo boo.” And that could never happen.
I guess it all worked out. My daughter is attached to something more than ever and she is learning about Jesus through it. So I am happy.
