Today was a day of extremes. Morning was spent in a constant blur of motion, mine and the kids. By 11:30 am I was cursing my 25-year old self for deciding to wait several more years to start having kids. Oh sure, Dex and I had only been together for a year, we hadn’t bought our house or really figured out where our adult lives were heading, but damn, I could some of that third-decade of life energy now that I am starting on the path of decade five (that means I just turned FORTY).

The girls were into … and out of everything, including our yard. Three times I watched, from either the porch or the kitchen window, as Mae (twice) or Jules (once) slipped through the metal pipe gate at the far end of the yard and dashed off down the hill, following the pasture fence line to our behind-us neighbor. Each time they escaped, they got a little farther (they were in plain view so I felt no need to run) until finally the last time, Jules made it to the neighbor’s play structure and swiftly climbed the wooden ladder. Mae was close behind me and she joined her sister on the slide. I let them slide a few times, then lured them back to the house with the promise of brownies. Before lunch. Even so, I trudged up the hill with a wiggling, cranky toddler in each arm.

Mornings like these, it’s all I can do to keep them and the house intact. I can’t let my guard down for a microsecond or someone is dancing on the kitchen counters (not me) or crawling through the cat door to make stew for the kitty with bits of cat chow and whatever else is lying around on the laundry room floor. And need I remind you, I also had Edward and Davey to tend to. Turned out to be Davey’s lucky morning. I let him watch five episodes of Hi5 and have lunch in front of the TV.

Naptime used to be my saving grace. Not since the end of June have I been able to count on naps for a little daytime respite. What happened at the end of June? Jules learned how to climb out of her porta crib. This amazing skill transfered to her full-size crib once we returned home two weeks ago. Getting out of her crib is as easy as sliding off the couch now. Even Mae has made a few succesful excursions over the siderail. I used to be able to put them in their beds and after 15 or so minutes of fussing, they’d curl up and go to sleep. Now twice a day - nap and bedtime - I find myself sitting in the glider in their room, scolding, pleading, pretending to be a mommy-shaped rock, while I wait for them to fall asleep. If I try to leave too soon, Jules (or rarely Mae) is up wailing and I have to start all over again. And, coinciding with the escape artist act, Jules has gone from taking 2 hours naps to 40 minute naps. She needs the 2 hours. More importantly, I need the 2 hours.

So today as naptime approached, I tried not to get my hopes up. Davey was getting cranky, so I decided to take all three up to bed. I told Davey he had to rest. If he didn’t fall asleep, I’d come get him soon. He conked out almost immediately.

And here is where an amazing thing happened. Jules and Mae fell asleep in 15 minutes. I eased out of the room and started a mad dash to get some laundry started and a pot of coffee brewing. Before I knew it, an hour had passed. Huh. I checked the baby monitor. Yep, it was on. My head had started pounding, so I downed some ibuprophen and settled on the couch. I filled out two complete sets of school registration papers (for Edward and Davey) while watching an episode of “Mad Men” on Tivo. The baby monitor sat silently on the end table the whole time.

After another hour, and after I’d started dinner, thrown in another load of laundry, checked my email, and cleaned out my freezer, I was starting to get bored. No - not bored, but running low on things I could do in 10 minute chunks. If only I had known that all three would nap for over two hours I could have been working on one of my dozen ongoing projects, but I was afraid to start anything. They’d sense it, the scent of accomplishment in the air, and their little eyes would snap open and their little lips would part and a wail would rise up to shatter the precious stillness.

To make up for the gift of naptime they bestowed upon me this afternoon, they have now, at bedtime, held me prisoner for over an hour. Just when I thought they might really be asleep, Jules climbed quietly out of bed, plopped down on the floor, and started banging on a metal percussion toy.

I have two words for you, my darlings: crib tents.