Last year when my son was born, he slept in his crib in our room. We had a nursery set up for him, but because of the influx of visitors we had, the nursery turned into a hotel room. My mother was our first visitor, then my sister and her kids, and then my husband’s entire family (Oma, Opa, Uncle Bennie + girlfriend) flew across the pond from Germany to visit for a month. About the time the Germans invaded, I received the thumbs up from my doctor that I was in the clear to get some post-partum lovin from my husband. One sunny Texas afternoon, our daughter was playing at a friend’s house. Oma plus the German entourage were downstairs watching t.v, and the baby was asleep downstairs in the bouncy thing. I said to my husband, “Honey, we are in the clear to make out. Nobody is upstairs. Let’s go!” So we snuck in our room and had our first romantic encounter in about…uh…three months. It was lovely. Afterwards, we snuck downstairs with our poker faces on.
Uncle Bennie said, “Whatcha been doing?”
I said, “Oh, just checking emails.” The German envasion began laughing.
Uncle Bennie replied in his thick German accent, “Next time you might want to turn off the baby monitor!”
To the makers of all baby monitors, please include a WARNING label for the stupid parents like me: IF YOUR BABY MONITOR IS ON YOUR BEDSIDE TABLE WHEN YOU AND YOUR HUSBAND HAVE SEX FOR THE FIRST TIME IN 3 MONTHS, THE ENTIRE HOUSEHOLD AND POSSIBLY SOME NEIGHBORS WILL HEAR EVERYTHING!