Man-o-man-o-man I hate time changes. Not only do they make everything a bit wonky for a week or so due to lack of sleep (even during the so-called “gain an hour” change). But, they really mess with your kids too.
My normally-very-tired-after-kindergarten T-Rex decided not to take a nap today. I usually lay down with him so I can sneak in a nap while he falls asleep. Huffy and annoyed after almost 40 minutes (the norm is 20), I left the room to (ahem) blog. I came back and what was that child doing? Dressing up in my pj’s and reading his daddy’s Bible. Then he wanted to put some paper around his juice cup like he was some kind of Starbucks regular. And then he jumped in the empty bathtub. With the yuppie cup. Oh MY.
As if lack of normal, regular sleep weren’t enough, let’s compound this even further. The US changed their clocks two weeks ago. Germany changed theirs yesterday.
p.s. – My dad lives in Arizona. Arizona doesn’t change their clocks at all. I’m still not sure what time it is there.
Doc Sci and I usually try to ease the boys into the change by starting four days before the dreaded Sunday and moving their schedule 15 min increments. But, I have to tell you that the first time we tried this (when T-Rex was a wee lil’ babe), we did the 15 min increments in the wrong direction and had him TWO hours off his normal routine. Oh yeah, we are total geniuses.
But, this year, we completely 100% forgot to do our smarty little advance moves. Again, genius at work.
The boys did rather well this year if I do say so myself. Ha, who am I kidding? It hasn’t even been 24 hrs. The jury is still totally on lunch break.
And then there’s that ferocious, non-naptaking T-Rex. He would nap if he knew what was good for him. He doesn’t realize him not sleeping means Mama doesn’t sleep which means she turns into some kind of kooked up zombie woman. No good, T-Rex. Close them eyes.
Well, maybe zombie isn’t the right term. I seem to be leaning in the hillbilly direction. I am so not politically correct with these kind of terms. Is “hillbilly” ok? Is “white trash” better or worse? I may be reading too many pages of The Help at once.
Luckily, I’m pretty sure Germans don’t know anything about either term. So I cay say I’s from da stix today and nobody done gone a know what I’m a meanin’. But Germans do know a half-crazed American when they see one. That’d be me today. Pushing a stroller packed with more produce and pasta than a pretzel-scarfing toddler.
Since I’ve had enough you-are-the-most-ridiculous-thing-I-have-ever-seen looks today, I’m sitting at home dreading the moment I have to go out again. You see, our beloved Red is up on blocks (she got ‘er a shard a glass stuck all up in her rubber, done popped da’ tube, ‘n rendered her useless). You never knew how country I could be, did you?
Now I’m daydreaming about a nap and wishing on a ? that someone would cure my sleep deprivation and bloodshot eyes with Starbucks. T-Rex is just rubbing it in with his homemade java jacket. Double shot, no whip, more foam, half-caff, extra this, none of that, low-fat, skinny, tall, and syrupy.
Oh please, oh please, oh please.
Bring me home a rubber donut with a bent valve on the side for my Red and you’ll be my new best friend. For life.