"I can't control everything. I can't control everyone."

I repeat these phrases to myself whenever people annoy me by doing things differently than I do.

Perhaps I was born this way, but my control freakiness has never been more apparent than in my life as a parent. I am surviving on very little sleep and find myself grasping at anything I can control.

Over the past year I've developed certain ways of making my life easier and helping my kids develop good habits. I cannot control my kids, but I can at least try to set their day and manage them along the way.

I want them to go to sleep when they are drowsy but not passed out. I want them to have fresh diapers and new clothes after they wake up. I want them to take their naps around the same times every day. I want them to eat healthy meals and only have sweet treats every so often. I'm not rigid about these things but I aspire to offer my children structure and allow some set times during the day for me to get work done.

The better they sleep, the better they feel and the more I can accomplish. It's not always smooth sailing, but I feel pretty awesome on the days things work.

And then I let others get involved.

I notice how much I want to manage the unmanageable when helping hands get in the way. My mother-in-law watches the kids twice a week. I'm so blessed and grateful to have her help and generosity, and it rocks for me to get such a great break.

But naptimes turn into, "They didn’t look tired," and I'm left to deal with the joy of an overtired child that night. I swore I would never become obsessed with nap times, but when my schedule for them started to click I worried about messing with it.

My parents are equally annoying, but it's easier for me to give them a hard time. I can tell my mom, "Don't wash the bottles that way," and it doesn"t faze me if she reminds me I'm being bossy.

What is it about grandparents and dads that make them want to give children chocolate and ice cream at every opportunity? "They love it," I am told. Then I just end up worrying about stomach aches that are going to lead to late-night moaning in their cribs.

What is it about being a mom that has made me so bossy? I can see my husband nodding vigorously as I write. He tells me that I'm always barking orders, no matter how hard he has worked, how much he has helped with the kids or how tired he is.

"The baby needs a bottle."
"Did you change her?"
When are you coming home?"

To avoid sounding naggy, I've started telling the kids what they need in the hopes that my husband will follow suit. "Wyatt, I think you need a new diaper," I tell him as I run loads of laundry to the basement. "Bridget, do you need a sippy cup?"

Maybe I am annoying, but I find that my husband doesn't think to take care of things without prompting. I could be gone all day and nothing would get done.

Or would it, just in a different way than I do it?

My husband -- and other men, I hear -- lack initiative when it comes to childrearing. Perhaps they know that a dirty diaper isn't as urgent as moms make it to be, or perhaps the moms have made it easy for men to be lazy? I am sure my husband would be even more helpful if he came home to a hot dinner. Let me get some sleep and that will happen.

My parent friends warned me when I was pregnant that I should never criticize the way my husband does any baby-related tasks. "Let him do it his way, because then he'll actually do it," they said.

Jack is great at taking care of babies, so he doesn't really need my help. I do my best to sit back and let him change diapers his way, make bottles his way. He would tell me, and does, that his way is better than mine anyway, so I avoid that battle.

The problem arises when I need help. With twins, that happens very often. I used to take care of my life on my own, and now I am forced to rely on others. Then I turn into a delegator, handing out projects to anyone who will listen.

It's hard enough to say, "Can you help me?" so why can't they just help the way I want them to?

The mistake I've made is assuming that everyone should defer to me on all matters my children, even my husband. When we first brought the children home, he went to his mother for advice on all things baby. I let it slide since I was a new parent, too.

Now, however, I want to run the show. I work part-time, but I do a lot of that work from home. I am with the children the majority of the time, which makes me the expert (insert husband shaking head).

And yet that takes for granted the experience that the grandparents and my husband bring to the table. The grandparents all raised three children each and we survived.

I don't want to be Little Miss Bossy, but I want things to get done. I could do it all myself, but then I'd never sleep. Instead, I am learning how to communicate with my generous helpers so they understand what I'm aiming for. I developed a new system for washing bottles and storing them in the evil drying rack so my kitchen doesn't look like a baby bottle factory.

Meanwhile, I need to learn to step back and let go of whatever control I dream I have. Being a good mom doesn't mean being a control freak. I don’t have to feel like an expert to get things done, especially when I never find enough time to get anything done.

If they want to help me, then I really have nothing to complain about.

Laura Lewis Brown is the mother of infant twins. Her column appears every other Thursday.