The scary side of mommywork

The minutiae of motherhood keep me occupied most days: food, clothing, sunblock, car seats, car magazines, teething rings, baths, diapers, impromptu snuggles, impromptu tantrums. But every so often, the grand scheme of parenting flutters to the front of my brain and I nearly panic. I, who have never raised a pet or successfully nurtured a houseplant, am responsible for keeping two small people alive.

This thought rarely occurs to me at obvious times, such as a close call with another car or a tumble at the playground. No, it usually happens when I am upstairs in bed and the boys are tucked in and sleeping. Could Adam roll off the mattress and get a concussion in his sleep? Did I leave a sharp object in David's crib (as if I let my kid play with paring knives or something)? In other words, what tiny thing did I miss that could cause my child harm?

Before I had my boys, I'd read horrible stories in the paper and think, "Well, I would just watch my kids." Now I know better. No one can be watched 24-7, and all parents can do is pray they get away with the tiny mistakes.