The first morning after Daylight Savings Time ends always sucks balls, but the second morning is a joy. The sun is up before I am! The kids are easy to get out of bed! The bus doesn’t come for another hour and everyone is ready for school, so I’ve got time to get some writing done before my workday starts.
My kids are all early risers, and I’ve had people stare at me, bewildered and a little horrified, when I say things like “the bus doesn’t come until 8:25 but we’re all up at 6:30.”
This is the same face, by the way, that I get when I say my kids are all in bed by 8:30. It’s not because I’m a horrible, mean mommy; it’s because no matter what time I put them to bed, they will always wake up at 6:30.
Process that for a second. George goes down at 7, Ron at 8, Harry at 8:30. They all bounce out of bed at 6:30. Those are reasonable sleep totals for kids their age, and so they aren’t overtired messes. Peace reigns (usually). No one has sobbing meltdowns over missing shoes and we get out the door in good spirits.
Now, picture Game 3 of the ALCS. It’s on a Saturday night and we have nowhere we need to be the next morning. The game doesn’t even start until 9pm, and I have two rabid baseball fans here. So, like a fool, I let them stay up, thinking that they’ll either fall asleep watching the game, or they’ll sleep in the next morning. Ron sat bolt upright on the couch until 11pm when I finally dragged him to bed, Harry stuck it out for a further 45 minutes, and they were both up the next morning before 7. By noon they were incoherent and by dinnertime it was like watching Ewan McGregor in Trainspotting once he decided to get off smack.
This is why I politely declined when another mom at school emailed at 9pm on Halloween night asking me to bring the kids around for some fun. I explained that there were already in bed, and she cheerfully said to get them up and bring them over, because the night was still young!
Bless her heart, unless she was also offering to take my resulting hellspawn the following day, that was going to be a big bucket of NOPE.
So, here we are. Harry has already been up, dressed, made his own breakfast, packed his bag, and cosplayed Captain America on the front lawn for half an hour. George is currently whacking a balloon around the living room with a plastic wand. Ron has a rotten head cold, complete with fever, so he’s gone back to bed, but he’s also been up and had some breakfast.
Which type do you have? Are your kids early risers, or slug-a-beds?