On Sunday daylight savings time ended (or did it begin? I can never remember). In the past, my wife and I have always vowed to use that extra hour to catch up on sleep. Instead, it would be 3:00 in the morning and we’d be telling each other, “Well, it’s really only 2:00…”
This year, though, was going to be different. After all, we’re parents now. (Plus we were exhausted from a day of working, getting pictures taken, and winterizing our cats.)
We made it to bed relatively early. We had done it! We were going to take full advantage of the time gimmick.
Then little guy began warbling ever so sweetly from his crib. Within a few minutes he had worked himself up into full voice. I held him and rocked him back to sleep. As soon as I put him back down, his eyes opened and he went back to full shriek mode. This time his mom soothed him. She did a better job putting him back down, and we were back on track.
Some time later, I was woken from a full sleep by the banshee call of my son. I looked at the clock–15 minutes had passed. I realized then that the fates were trying to tell us that daylight savings time is not our time.
Maybe next year we’ll actually make use of that extra hour. This year, I’m still a little cranky because DST actually gave me less sleep than normal.