There is no creaking door or bumping into her bed in the dark to wake her up. It is fabulous.

Several weeks ago I put Sadie, my 3 month old, in  bed to go to sleep. I went to my bedroom, crawled into the bed with my book and turned on the baby monitor. My baby was gone.

Her bed was empty! My heart started racing, I broke out in a cold sweat and bile started to rise in the back of my throat.

How could this be happening? I just walked out of her room!

I suddenly realized not only was my baby gone, but her bed looked different and her bedding was gone.

What in the world was I looking at?

I ran into Sadie's room to find her exactly where I had left her.

“Ah,” I thought, “that was somebody else's bed I was looking at...”

Wait, if I can see into someone else's house that means they can see into mine. Apparently one of my neighbors has the same baby monitor on the same channel and I was picking up their camera instead of my own.

My mind raced back through the evening histrionics of getting my 2 year old and my 4 year old into the bed.

All the shouting, the screamed threats.

"If you touch her one more time I am going to spank you! Do you hear me!? Do you understand?" (Yes, we spank. I trust Dr. Dobson, not Dr Phil. If you want to judge me, I’ll be glad to take the day off and let you show me how it’s really done).

“Get out of the floor, quit slithering like a snake and put your pajamas on now!”

Oh, no,  someone had heard all of this.

I froze as I realized that my husband was working in the yard as I got out of the shower that night.

The baby was crying and I walked into her room as fresh out of the shower as the day I was born.

My mind was racing, I was in a panic.

I could just see Miss Perfect Mommy watching her baby monitor in horror as I traipsed around my house naked, swinging a wooden spoon at anything under 3 feet tall.

You know the one; she would never dream of spanking her kids and never has to tell them more than once to do anything. Her kids pick up their toys without being told, eat all their vegetables and never have a cross word to say to their siblings.

She's already called DHR, I just know it.    “Where are they?” I wondered. Probably about to break down my door or sitting in an unmarked car across the street waiting for my slightest misstep. I don't know where Miss Perfect's house is, so...

“Thank God,” I sighed with relief, “they don't know where I am.”

From that point on, anytime I pick my baby up out of the crib, the camera is immediately turned off.

Several days following this incident I heard someone talking on the baby monitor.

"Mm-hmm," I thought to myself, "let's see how perfect you really are."

I started to openly spy on this poor unsuspecting woman.

She was changing her baby's diaper and cooing to her, "Poor baby, hasn't had a poopie diaper all day. Have you? No you haven't.”

"Honey," she said to her husband, "can you hand me a diaper and some wipes?"

I grinned with satisfaction as I snapped the monitor off. Only a first time mom would actually waste a wipe on a wet diaper, which means she has no idea the havoc that will be unleashed on her once that kid can walk and talk.

Perfect?

I give her six months before she's knocking on my door asking for a wooden spoon and instructions on how to use it.

(Robin O’Bryant is a Mount Pleasant resident and mother of three. Read her blog at online www.robinschicks.com or e-mail her, zebandrobin@hotmail.com)