Mommy ears

I recently came across a humorous survey of moms responding to the question, “What do you want for Mother’s Day?”  Many of the responses centered around time to themselves, the chance to read a book, sleep, folded laundry, or simply the ability to pee uninterrupted.  You know, the luxuries.  While I could relate to most of these, one in particular made me laugh out loud (or LOL, as the kids say): “I would like to gift my husband with my Mommy ears so he could hear the baby fart in the next room.”  SO.  TRUE. 

This is by no means a daddy-bashing session; rather, it is a commentary on one of the unique qualities that make mommies, well, mommies (and that make us drink wine).  My husband is an amazing daddy and he certainly pulls his weight.  However, he is also an incredibly sound sleeper and he’s not a mom.  Those two factors mean that his nights tend to be a little more on the restful side, particularly with little ones in the house.  I. Hear. Everything.  And it drives me crazy.  Every cough, every whimper, every sigh – monitor not required.  But perhaps the most troubling sound is silence.  Only a mother could be startled awake in the middle of the night by a complete absence of sound and think, “My gosh!  I just slept for 4 hours straight!  Is everyone okay?!  Are they breathing?”  Ah yes, the added bonus of Mommy ears is the accompanying Mommy paranoia that seeps in and convinces me I need to monitor everyone’s heart rate before I can hope to doze off again myself. 

My favorite sitcom without a doubt is Friends, and I’m guilty of having much of the dialogue of many episodes memorized.  I’m reminded of the one where Rachel is struggling to leave her new baby with a sitter for the first time.  In an effort to convince her to get out of the apartment, Ross pushes her out the door, accidentally locking them out.  As Rachel’s panic rises, Ross sarcastically describes a vivid scenario involving a flooding apartment, a kitchen fire, and an eagle that has flown in the window and seized baby Emma in its talons.  I chuckled at this scene as a young college chicky, appreciating the humor and siding with Ross in his belief that Rachel had a touch of the crazies. 

Now that I have children of my own, it doesn’t seem quite so far-fetched.  In fact, I find myself often imagining the worst case scenario.  This hits me hardest in the middle of the night (seriously, why is everything a little bit more uncertain in the dark?  Including my sanity?).  Room temperature, a child’s comfort, too many/too few blankets, a misplaced stuffed animal, an unswaddled swaddle, an unlocked window, the mere possibility of spilled water or a full diaper…all of these things have made me get out of bed in the wee hours of the morning “just to make sure” everything is okay.  As I lay awake in my bed trying to will myself back to sleep, I am aware it is highly unlikely someone would dodge our security system, shimmy up the pole on the porch, somehow scale the walls of our home, and force themselves into a second story bedroom through a partially open window.  However, to borrow Rachel’s response to Ross’s monologue, “You are going to be so sorry if that’s true.”  So it’s best to check, you know, just to make sure.

Having recently been through the newborn stage, I was reminded my paranoia is particularly heightened during this period.  I literally could not sleep in the same room as my babies during the first month of their lives.  I of course wanted them in the same room with me, but I’m just saying there was no sleep happening on my part when they were there.  In order to grant me some rest, my saint of a husband would take the baby downstairs for a few hours so I could fall asleep.  I just needed to know someone else was in charge, and I needed to be out of earshot of every little grunt and newborn squeak. 

So yes, my Mommy ears drive me crazy.  But being the half glass full kind of person I am, I also try to enjoy the benefits they offer.  Most of the time, I worry for nothing, so it really just gives me a chance to see my little angels completely silent and restful.  They are especially lovable when they’re not making a sound.  Watching my children sleep absolutely fills my heart, so getting a few extra chances to do that isn’t a bad thing.  But for goodness’ sake, I hightail it out of the room if they so much as rustle, because I don’t want to be there if they open their eyes.  After all, I need some freaking sleep.