Divide and Conquer

“Why am I so exhausted?” This is a question I’ve asked myself at least a dozen times this week. The past few days I’ve seriously considered propping my eyes open with toothpicks around 8:30 pm, determined to stay awake until at least 10:00, because it is my only quiet time all day long. To waste it with sleep seems like a major offense.

When Jake and Lilly, now 15 months old, began walking this summer, I was elated! When they learned how to independently climb up the stairs and then slide down on their tummies, I was ecstatic! I remember telling friends and family, “My life is so much easier now that they can both walk!” Well, as I’ve learned with most stages, this one is quickly losing its luster. They have learned how to use this skill against me, making me run after them as they dart off in opposite directions. Both have no problem going up and down the stairs to play or to eat, but mention the word “nap,” and they suddenly forget everything!

Which leads me to why I am so pooped on a regular basis…. The Divide and Conquer scheme. It sounds like something that we as parents should be implementing… Divide the work, the chores, the tasks, the responsibilities that come attached to having two little people dwell alongside you in your house (that used to be clean and tidy, but we won’t go there.); Conquer the trivial battles that arise throughout the day. Sounds nice, but, no, I am referring to a plot designed by two tiny people who can barely form words, yet seem to be able to communicate quite clearly with each other.

The Divide and Conquer scheme was played out in front of me this morning around 8:00. Its simple two step procedure works like this:

Jake, on tip-toes, reaches and grabs the handle on the door leading to the garage, and swings the door wide open. Poking his head out into the dark garage, he gives himself away by the trail of “Uh-oh”s that leave his mouth. I rush over to close the door, but notice that Lilly has ventured out into the land of lawn mowers, tools, and trash cans. Realizing that Jake’s “Uh-oh”s were not intended to be self incriminating but used as a means to tattle tale on his sister (and ultimately to get me out the door after her), I quickly grab Lilly and head back inside, locking the door behind me. A sense of satisfaction comes over me as I pat myself on the back, pleased with my vigilant parenting first thing in the morning. This feeling quickly escapes me as I walk into the kitchen where Jake has had just enough time to take out the safety plug on the outlet on the side of the island. (Don’t ask me how he figured that one out, because even I have a hard time pulling out those pesky plugs.) I catch him right before his two little fingers make contact with the holes of the outlet. (Why are these so tempting for a toddler? Really!) As I finish removing Jake from the kitchen and doing a quick check for other plugs to be sure they are not exposed, I look up to find Lilly slowly plucking leaves off the tree near the kitchen window. One by one she yanks them and tosses them on the floor, grinning at me with a sly smile that says, “Gotcha, Mom!”

I guess I should be commending them both on this brilliant plan, even though I am clearly the one who got scammed. It scares me to no end that my children have already figured out that Mommy can’t be everywhere at once. I should have seen it coming, should have noticed the mischievous glances they exchanged this morning while eating breakfast in their highchairs. Who knows how long they’ve been plotting against me and why today seemed to be the perfect day to carry out their plan. As I poured myself another cup of coffee, I wondered if this had anything to do with the question I can’t seem to answer lately.