I Asked My Husband To Watch Our Four Young Children For Just Twenty Minutes While I Took A Shower.

At 11:42 p.m., Theo’s pacifier was still nowhere to be found. I stood beside the kitchen sink, my hands submerged in lukewarm water. The house was completely quiet, the rare kind of peace that exists in a home with four children under five between eleven at night and five in the morning. It was a delicate, almost sacred silence. One unexpected sneeze could end it. I was washing the final pot, its bottom covered with dried macaroni and cheese from the dinner I had prepared at five. The children had eaten. I hadn’t. I rarely sat down for dinner anymore. Instead, I ate whatever remained on their plates while clearing the table. My husband had gone upstairs at nine-thirty. He was upset. He hadn’t wished me goodnight. He simply passed through the kitchen, switched off the hallway light while I was still standing there, and shut our bedroom door more firmly than necessary. Standing at the sink, I felt guilty. I had spoiled his evening. Then I thought about the pacifier. Theo’s green one. His favorite. The only pacifier that could reliably comfort him when he woke crying at two in the morning. He’d had it in his mouth while sitting in the playpen during my shower. Somewhere within those twenty minutes, it had vanished. I’d searched everywhere. Beneath the sofa, under the playpen, inside the toy baskets, and between…