When I was little, I was very attached to my blankie, “Blankie.” It was a pale yellow cotton woven blanket with a satiny binding. The woven middle was in shreds for as long as I remember. Was it a hand-me-down? It doesn’t seem like I could’ve caused that much wear in a couple of years. It smelled incredible until the day it had to be washed. It was a better smell than any flower produces.
Finley was born in 2010. Swaddling blankets were mandatory in the current parenting culture. Mom gave me a white one with pink cupcakes on it that came from a fancy boutique and was $50 instead of the $20 ones at Target. Babies weren’t allowed to be left unsupervised with blankets, pillows, or stuffed animals until they were three. At some age (one?) they could have a “lovey.” These are blankets the size of a cloth napkin with a stuffed animal head sewn to the center. Mom bought three identical Winnie-the-Pooh lovies from a store called Tuesday Morning that went out of business. They had 2009 embroidered near the hem, so were a deal that made up for the swaddle. Mom said it’s important that the child’s favorite toy has secret alternates so it isn’t a crisis if you wash or lose one. It worked until Finley found the two backups hanging to air dry, and then demanded on having all three lovies with her whenever she slept.
At some point I thought she was mature enough to play and sleep with her swaddling blanket, now named Binkle Dinks. Binkles had been through a lot. There were long tears between the blanket and the hem on two sides that created loops of ribbon. I kept forgetting to mend it. One night when Finley was probably four, I checked on her after she’d been in bed for about an hour. Binkle Dinks had tried to kill her. Finley had both hands tied to the headboard posts with the blanket and it was also wrapped snugly around her neck. Her head was falling forward and to the side. She looked like Christ on the cross. I’m still amazed that she was alive and also that she didn’t call out for help after tying herself up. She just fell asleep. The next morning I folded Binkle Dinks into a small rectangle – the size of a lovey – and stitched through all the layers until there were no holes and no possible danger. It’s basically a cloth diaper now.