I'm blaming YOU!

Yes, you, Daylight Savings Time. You can't even have a short little name, like Tom or Sarah either. No, you have to make that difficult, too. And if you think I'm going to keep typing out your entire name for the rest of this post, think again.

Look, I'll admit, that I like long summer days. I like sunlight. I like that when my husband gets home from work, there's still enough sunlight to go play outside with the girls, or take a bike ride, or eat a picnic dinner. I like not feeling like the day is over at 5:00 PM. So I guess thank you for all of that.

But do have to come on so abruptly, in the middle of spring, and interrupt our entire lives? I mean, do you really have to even exist at all? Because I hate to break it to you, DST, but we'd have long summer days without you, too.

To be fair, I didn't start hating your guts until I had kids. In fact, I'll tell you that I even loved your sister, Standard Time, when she came into my life every fall. A girl who can bring you an extra hour of sleep, play, movie watching time, or an extra hour before curfew? That's a girl to love. But even she became a nuisance when my own two little angels came along.

You see, my oldest daughter has been thriving these last two months. She's been eating well. She's been sleeping well. She's been agreeable and obedient. She had a routine. And we've all been happy as a result.

But then last week you came along. And you ruined everything. Suddenly, it was still light outside when when it was time to get ready for bed. Well, that made things difficult for everyone. How are our internal clocks supposed to respond to that? And it was much darker in the morning than it used to be, too. Our bodies were used to a different time. So we were 40 minutes late to church on that first day you showed your ugly face. And I blame you.

My oldest had a hard time going to bed at her new-to-her-body bedtime. She just wasn't tired yet. I mean, 8:00 was really only 7:00 to her body. So she wouldn't stay in bed. Or her room. And it started a bad pattern of getting up out of bed a million times. And I blame you.

And then there's the matter of meals. We just can't stomach breakfast before 8:30. It's just too much to ask of us. But here you come, turning 8:30 into 7:30-stomach-time, and we're not interested in eating. And not eating = disasterous results. And I blame you.

As for me, I already have a hard enough time peeling myself away from the girls (more like peeling them away from me) to start making dinner. And now that it is still wonderfully bright outside at 5:00, no one wants to come in so I can start making dinner. Which results in me not even starting dinner preparations until 6:00. And then we're all hungry and irritable while I'm cooking. Which results in me frantically throwing things together.

You know what happened yesterday? In my haste to make chicken enchilladas for dinner, I grabbed a can of tuna instead of chicken. And I don't even want to hear your disgust over the fact that I use canned chicken. The fact of the matter is, my family had to stomach tuna enchilladas last night. And I blame you.

So it's been a week, DST. A week. And we still haven't adjusted to your time-changing ways. We're all still tired. And hungry. And sick over tuna enchilladas.

And I blame you!!