was the name of a store in the pathetic excuse of a mall in the town I grew up in. Nobody ever bought anything from it as it sold southwestern style wall hangings and wolf figurines. Not exactly the mall’s demographic. When we were twelve my friends and I used to walk through it for a laugh. It seemed like the kind of crap our grandparents would own, and probably did.
What brings me back to the memory of this sad little shop is my middle-of-the-night awakenings from my two lovely daughters. Except lovely isn’t the term I use at two in the morning. I won’t write what I actually say because I’d be hauled away and you’d think I was the worst mother in the world.
I no longer have the perfect baby and it really pains me to admit it. Literally pains me. I don’t know what the hell is going on with the little one (or the big one for that matter) but she’s stopped sleeping through the night, doesn’t want to eat at regular times, and can’t be soothed by anything. It’s my worst nightmare because added to that is the toddler who doesn’t know the meaning of slow down. She’s on turbo speed twenty-four seven. Plus we just moved into a new house so nothing is where it should be and it’s impossible to get anything done.
So on the off night that the baby is sleeping better, the big one will decide it’s time to scream and cry right when the hubby and I have just drifted off to dreamland. And then they take turns whining and whimpering until the sun decides to come up (or even before) and we’re forced to start the day with only three hours of chopped up sleep, hence “in cahoots.”
It’s like having not one, but two Stewies. They both want to destroy me. And will most likely succeed sooner than later at the rate we’re going. I’ve seen them give each other the look before the big one is carted off to bed. I see the glimmer in her eye that says, “Don’t worry Sissy. I’ve got the first round. You can sit back and relax for a bit…save up for your turn.”
And I’m sure this is just the beginning. They will conspire for years to come. One will always be the lookout whether it’s to get the chair positioned just right to reach the candy cupboard (yes I have a cabinet for candy, how do you think I survive each day?) or when they’re teenagers rolling the car down the driveway. Something tells me they will always have their stories straight.
We are so doomed.