The things that rule our world

There used to be a day where I was in charge of my life. Then I had kids. And during the day they are in charge. At 7:30 pm, the kids are thrown into their rooms tucked sweetly into bed, and my freedom is reclaimed.

But, it's not, really. To Ben's constant annoyance, once the kids are in bed, I become a slave (and subsequently require him to be a slave) to the baby monitors. Say what you want about "just turning it off," that doesn't work for me. I need them on. I am obsessed. I am wondering at what age it becomes inappropriate to spy on your kids through the monitor.

Every night, as Ben's eyes start to close, I wake him up and make sure he checks the volume and channel on his monitor and I check mine. We have to be careful to keep our cell phones charging far away in other room, or some alien frequency intervenes and we are kept up all night with REALLY LOUD BRRRRRNNNNNGGGGGs and EEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRs. We hear the kids cough and whimper and toss and turn, and I lay there praying them back to sleep.

I've gotten used to having the monitors as the nightly intruder in my otherwise messy but peaceful bedroom.

But, lately, something else has showed up to govern my nights and wake me from sleep: the crib rail.

You would think that since I put Taly to bed in her crib at least three times a day, I would be used to the putting the crib rail up routine. But in exhausted early morning moments, I forget. I forget to raise it, and it doesn't occur to me until I snuggle back under the covers and start praying her back to sleep.

And then, with a start and groan, I remember and I envision her toppling over the edge and me ending up on Oprah explaining myself. This morning it happened. And Ben was gracious enough to offer to check. I'm not sure if he meant it, but he offered, and I'm not one to play the martyr (actually I am) so I let him do it.

So, he began the covert op. The mission: silently raise the rail without startling Taly, who was just beginning to realize it was still night time. Now that's a mission: impossible if I ever heard one.

I, snuggled deep under the covers, listened to the monitor and heard the giggle of a baby who saw Daddy come in the room, the click of the rail being raised, and then the angry wales of a baby who realized Daddy wasn't planning on sticking around.

Not a great way to start the morning. And my punishment for forgetting to raise it in the first place was having to listen to the aftermath on the monitor.