We fail at bedtime. Regularly. They play with their toys like perfect angels at 11 pm and then lay in their beds and read. No parent wants to interrupt imaginary play time. And voluntary reading? We all want our kids to read more. Why can’t this happen at 2 pm?
The Labit family really needs life to operate between 10 am and midnight. Any earlier and, well, I need to send apology notes in backpacks to the incredible teachers who manage to get my kids to sit in chairs and listen all day. Or not. Maybe it’s just me who gets treated to the extra tender statements of love and adoration.
During spring break nobody has to get up, so our body clocks naturally slide into the rhythm we all prefer. Seven days later, the sleep train hits the proverbial concrete wall when the bus shows up at its regularly scheduled time anticipating eager-to-learn children and instead picks up children who would prefer to be horizontal.
This morning, as expected, the kids had a tough time getting up to go to school. I’d just like to say that I really tried. My daughter was spitting nails at me from the moment she opened her eyes. She got on the bus proclaiming that she’s going to go STRAIGHT BACK TO BED WHEN SHE GETS HOME because it’s not REALLY time for the bus.
“Mommy, don’t you know that the clock is an hour WRONG?”
Truth, daughter. You speak the truth and so many parents agree with you.
My social media feeds are full of despair twice a year because the people who agree to have daylight savings time can’t even remember the last time someone needed fifth meal at midnight, woke them up to go potty at 1am, claimed they NEEDED to play video games at 4am, had eight wide-open eyes staring enthusiastically at them at midnight, or had to feed those hungry eyes breakfast at 6:15am because they were so hungry their “legs wouldn’t work”.
Lawmakers should be required to babysit someone’s bevy of little people the entire week after the time changes. If we shift *their* lives an hour and add those eight expectant eyes to their morning, we would never have daylight savings time ever again. Our teenagers have to take care of fake babies for a week in high school to help them learn newborn care. Perhaps a similar educational process would help lawmakers make better decisions about time changes that almost universally exhaust parents and educators twice a year. Just saying.
Broad overstatements and rants aside, I am thankful for the days they hand me flowers. It makes me feel like I’m winning. At least a little bit.