If it's not the kids, it's the cats.

Angry Mommy reflects on Daylight Savings Time

The f*cking time change.

Why are we still doing this? Wasn’t it supposed to end years ago? And why are Hawaii and most of Arizona exempt? Tell you what, the Keat household is filing for exemption too. Take that, Congress, and pass the bill already. Thanks.

I’ve been sleep deprived for three years, ever since the kids came around, but they’ve just recently both started sleeping through the night (praise the lord, knock on wood, fingers crossed).

I wish this meant that I’ve been sleeping through the night too, but far from it. You see, during years of the kids’ regular middle-of-the-night wake ups, something terrible and unexpected happened (besides the appearance of grey hair around my temples, an increase of fine lines around my eyes, and a chronic moodiness from severe lack of sleep).

What happened was the cats were retrained, or untrained. I’m not sure which.

Before kids, there was no household confusion. We went to bed at 10pm, woke up at 5:30am to feed the cats, squeezed in a workout before heading to work, and got ready for the day. But when kids came along, the cats became confused, thinking each middle-of-the-night wake up was the moment they’d been waiting for, and running to the kitchen in anticipation.

When we’d blaze past them to tend to a crying human upstairs, they’d mellow out slightly, but it was only a matter of time before they’d come scratching at the kids’ doors, meow loudly in the hallway, or paw personal items off nightstands, the bathroom sink, and the media console—a pair of glasses, a bottle of lotion, the extra roll of TP on the back of the toilet, a stack of books, a glass of f*cking water.

Even when we close the bedroom door and shut them out, I can hear random items crashing to the floor throughout the house. I lay in bed and think, Oh, there goes the ceramic coasters. Oh, that was the picture frame on top of the piano. There goes the TV remote, the tissue box, the – you’ve got to be kidding me – was that my laptop?!

This used to bother me, but I’ve stopped caring. A pair of earplugs in addition to the sound machine roaring within a foot of my head usually does the trick. Still, you can always tell how rough that night was when you walk out of the bedroom and count the number of items scattered on the living room floor. Yup, that was the coasters, the TV remote, my f*cking laptop.

So, now you see, if it’s not the kids, it’s the cats. The last thing I need is a f*cking time change.

I want to eat everything when the time changes, especially when we forget to change the clocks in the kitchen. My body thinks it’s 11am, and the microwave and oven clocks say it’s 11am, so I’m going to eat, but then I look at my cell phone and it says 10am. You’ve got to be kidding me. Shit, how is it not time to eat yet, and why is today taking forever? How early is too early to put the kids down for their naps? And which schedule do I follow anyway?

According to experts, it may take up to seven days to fully adjust to the time change. Seven days, and I’m here to tell you that the first seven hours were borderline unbearable.

One article I read claims the secret to surviving Daylight Savings Time is to gradually adjust your toddler’s bedtime by 15-minute increments in the 3-4 days leading up to the change. First of all, I’ve never been cognizant of an upcoming time change that far in advance. Ever. Second, trying to get my toddler to fall asleep at a designated time is like shaking a Magic 8 Ball. You never know what you’re going to get.

(shake, shake, shake) “Cannot predict now”
(shake, shake, shake) “Outlook not so good”
(shake, shake, shake) “Don’t count on it”
(shake, shake, shake) “Reply hazy, try again”

We never know if he’ll be doing summersaults, setting a record for most monumental meltdown ever, or snuggling us before we’ve finished reading bedtime stories. But hey, to each their own.

At the end of the day, we’re surviving the time change, but I’m not happy about it. And neither are the f*cking cats. I can already see it: the clock strikes 3am (4am to their bodies) and they’ll get to work destroying the house. I’ll set my earplugs on the nightstand.