Daylight Confusings

Yesterday morning my daughters got up extra early. They usually get up for good around 7 or 7:30, but yesterday it felt more like 6. My husband ushered them out of the room I was trying to sleep in so that they could be cute for their grandparents. I didn’t mind. The earlier they’re up, the better naps they take, and if they’re going to be jumping around, better around someone who is excited that they’re awake so early.


I rolled out of bed and checked my phone for the time. 8:37. “Huh,” I thought, “I must not have been able to sleep for as long as I wanted, no wonder I have a headache.”


We hung out, went out for breakfast, chatted, then went back to the house for all of those ‘getting ready to leave’ tasks. By the time my in-laws were giving hugs and kisses and “we’ll see you in a couple weeks”es, I was thinking, in the back of my head, about what to feed my daughter for lunch.


“What do you want to do?” my husband asked me as we headed back into the house after we finished waving his parents away. We both knew that the final installment of Assassin’s Creed had been waiting for me on our PS3 for several days, and that it was bound to be the answer to his question. Instead I made a face. “Well, what time is kickoff?” I asked, as my daughters, in their Broncos cheerleader outfits, ran off to play. “I’ll probably only be able to play for like half an hour.” “No, it’s only 10:30,” he responded. A glance at the clock on the microwave backed up his story, so I happily grabbed a controller and sat down to play.


Later that evening, my eight month old began to fuss her “feed me, I’m just a baby” fuss. After finding that it was only 4:30, I gave her a look that asked why she was hungry already. Then I shrugged and heated up some mashed peas, figuring that she’d had a super early breakfast, and a weird lunchtime, so she might as well eat dinner early.


I paused in my video gaming after I’d put the girls to bed to poke at the clock on the oven. “What’s wrong with this thing?” I called to my husband. “I already reset the clock on the microwave,” he called back. I looked from one clock to the other. “What?” I continued, my raised eyebrow evident in my tone.  “For Daylight Savings?” he hinted.


No wonder I was yawning my head off at 10:30.


Savings? More like “confusings.”