The best part of my day

The house is quiet. I'm just about to go to bed. I turn on the flashlight and creep down the hall towards Jude's room. Very quietly, I open the door to the laundry room, then slide open the door to Jude's room. This one creaks loudly, but I know it won't wake up the boy. He sleeps like the dead.

I never know where I'm going to find Jude. Much of the time, he's sprawled out on his bed, covers kicked off, mouth wide open, clutching his blankies. Sometimes he's asleep on the floor. Sometimes he's on "Daddy's Bed". Once I found him curled up in the closet. No matter. If he's not in his bed, I carry him over to it. I pull up the covers to keep him from getting a chill in the night. I put his binkie within arm's reach. I smooth the hair over his brow. I kiss him goodnight, murmuring "Goodnight Jude. I love you." He never even twitches. As I close the creaky door behind me, I turn off the lights that he has insisted on leaving on as he falls asleep. The humidifier hums in the background.

Ada's room is trickier. I have to open the door without making a sound. The flashlight beam can't wander too close to her head. She curls up in a little ball in her crib, face against the sheet. If I'm not quiet enough, she'll begin to stir, and then I need to make a quick exit before she wakes completely. I probably don't need to check on her. She can't get out of her crib, and she still sleeps in warm jammies. But I like to see my babies sleeping. It's the only time they aren't moving, seeking, doing. I cover her with a blanket and creep out the door.

Now I can go to sleep.