It's 8:06 in the pm. Perp's been in her crib for nigh onto an hour now. Yet she's still awake. I know this because of the advent of that most blessed and cursed invention, the baby monitor. It's great because you know when the baby freaks the fuck out over rolling onto his tummy during his nap, and can go soothe/get him, as the situation requires.
It sucks because you hear every snuffle and wheeze as clear as day and remain ever vigilant to the slightest change in breathing rate, aware of each and every sigh. I tend to go up before it's truly warranted and I think that may make for more full wake-ups than there might otherwise be. Then again, maybe not. See?! These things suck!
Then again, it rules because you can transcribe your daughter's conversation with her crib pals after she wakes up. She talks to Tucker! She's got wawa in her cup! Red! Red! Red! Yewwo! Goo-DAAAAAAHB!* Ditty: SIT DOWN! SIT DOWN!
I suppose it's not entirely polite to eavesdrop on her; after all, it's her room, her sanctuary, and I'd be hella pissed if I found out someone was listeneing to me on the monitor. Mostly all anyone'd hear is swearing or snoring, but still. It's the principle of the thing. Personal privacy and alone time are (becoming more) important to me, and I want to provide it to my kids as much as possible. But I can't hear her when I'm downstairs without the monitor, unless she's pretending she's having a tooth removed, in which case she makes plenty of noise.
So the monitor stays for now. Besides, one can't invade another's privacy if the invadee has no concept of privacy, right? I mean, I'm technically not snooping until she starts shutting her door, because, GOD! Mother, I'm on the phone!
There is not. enough. Prozac. to prepare me for having a
bi-polar rabid dog teenage girl in the house.
*Apparently we say "good job!" a lot. A LOT.