Here's the situation. Z still has had three bottles in his life.
1. Wake up bottle while getting his diaper changed and dressed.
2. Nighttime bottle during story time BEFORE teeth brushing
3. Bottle of water in his crib for him to access if he so desired.
I know that "everyone" says you need to take away the bottle at one, but I just didn't want to. For Z, his bottle is his big comfort item. It's like his pacifier. He never, ever took a pacifier so he got all his sucking gratification from a bottle. The big issue with bottles after 1 is "bottle rot," but Z was not drinking milk bottles in the night (well, extremely rarely) so his teeth were being brushed after every bottle that had milk in it (and he only drinks milk or water). Hence, bottle rot was not an issue. This child loves his bottle. Loves it. He would carry it around all day if I would let him, which I never have except when he had Hand, Foot and Mouth because I was terrified of him getting dehydrated.
I kept thinking that I should take away the bottle but something always stopped me. First it was that we moved shortly after he turned 1. Then it was that he was starting at daycare. Then, once he started daycare, it was one illness after another as he went through the daycare germ exposure. So I put it off and I started to just care less and less. After all, kids keep their pacifiers WAY after one and basically, Z was using his bottle as his pacifier. I'd basically made up my mind that I wasn't going to worry about it anymore until after Bebo was born and everything settled down.
Until Z chewed halfway through his water bottle's nipple one night. That rang the death knell for the bottles. I knew I couldn't let him have them anymore because I'd be too afraid he would chew off the nipple tip during the night and choke. Joe and I talked it over and decided that the best plan of attack for our strong willed kiddo was to go cold turkey.
Day 1: I showed him the broken bottle and told him all the babas were broken now so we had to say bye-bye. Then I threw it in the trash can.
He cried.
When he got out of the bath (when he normally has his night time bottle) I gave him a cup of milk instead. He cried. I gave him a snack of yogurt instead. He loved that and eventually (and bitterly) drank about half of his milk.
I put him to bed without his water bottle, but with his new sippy cup (which he was super excited about before he realized it was replacing his baba). He cried. CRIED! Like a banshee. I almost cried. Luckily the crying lasted not more than 5 minutes so I was able to avoid the sobbing, I'm the cruelest, worst mother in the world!!!! drama.
Then the s*** hit the fan. He woke up about an hour later and scream scolded me for two hours. I wish I could reasonably represent what this sounds like but it's impossible. It's like a mix between an angry bird, angry squirrel, and... I don't know. Sounds sort of like, "mehmehmehmeh!! MEHMAMAMA!!" Really pissed. It wasn't constant. I would soothe him, get him quiet and drowsy, lay him in his crib, leave the room, and BAM 10 minutes later the rage began. I finally had to give up and just put him in his crib and set the timer for 10 minutes to make myself not go in there. He yelled for about 8 and then rolled around for about 10 more and went back to sleep.
Up at... I don't know. I was too foggy. 1? 2? I seriously can't remember. I gave him some water from a sippy and snuggled him a bit and he was back down. I fell asleep on his floor because I didn't believe he was really going to stay asleep. He woke again around 5 and Joe came and told me to go to bed. Z and I slept until about 8:30 AM while Joe headed off to work after having slept the rest of the morning on Z's floor to prevent his stubborn wife from getting up again.
Day 2
Post-bath he was still mad about not getting a bottle. He wouldn't even touch the sippy cup. He ate his yogurt snack happily (a little too happily because he thought getting yogurt on his naked chest was super fun).
BUT! Went to sleep within 10 minutes of getting in his crib at 7 PM. Woke up... 6:30 AM! WOOOOOT! I feel like million bucks.
So now we are on Day 3. He was still pretty mad at me about not getting his bottle this morning because he woke up dying of starvation, I guess? Not sure. So it wasn't the happiest morning, but there have been crabby mornings other times for no discernible reason, so who really knows?
It's honestly going better than I thought so I'm pleased. Z has clearly got some major developments going on in his life right now (including starting to cut two of his last molars), so this wasn't what I would call an ideal time to shake up his world, but c'est la vie kiddo. I'm super proud of him right now and kiss him madly until he pushes me away like, ENOUGH MAMA! It's never enough buddy. Get used to it.
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