Dear Daylight Savings Time

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Dear Daylight Savings TimeDear Daylight Savings Time,

I remember the last time I was really, deeply angry with you. I was about 20 or 21, at a nightclub with my girlfriends, and at 2am the lights were turned on. “No! That’s not right! We still have an hour!” “Daylight Savings Time,” the bouncer said and rolled his eyes at me, “It’s 3am now.” But I wanted to dance! I wanted to keep having fun! I was so mad at you, DST.

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Flash forward a few years. My nightclubbing friends and I haven’t seen 2am (voluntarily) in nearly a decade. My Facebook feed is filled with moans of exhaustion and tales of doom that you, Daylight Savings Time, have totally ruined everyone’s sleep patterns. “My kids are fine. They are still sleeping exactly the same way; bed at 8:30, up around 7:15 — I don’t really see what all the fuss is about,” I would confide to other friends with small children who probably wanted to stab me with a knitting needle, as they were now sleeping for approximately 45 minutes every night.

Then a funny thing happened this year. My kids? The ones who are immune to you? THEY ARE TOTALLY 100% WRECKED AND I AM SO MAD AT YOU, DST, THAT I WANT TO HUNT YOU DOWN LIKE LIAM NEISSON IN TAKEN.

DST, I love summer. I love what you stand for; warm temperatures and sunshine-filled days. I am more pumped about summer than Olaf could ever hope to be. I am very small, thus, I am cold basically all the time. When the temperatures drop below 75 degrees I become violently angry. My feet and hands are tiny blocks of ice. I don’t think menopausal hot flashes sound all that bad. Summer=good.

So, imagine my shock and abject horror when a few weeks ago I went to put my nearly six year old to bed and the following standoff took place:

-“Maddox, you need to go ahead and go upstairs and start getting ready for bed. Take brother with you and help him with his toothbrush.”
-“No.”
-“I’m sorry? What did you just say to me, Maddox Garner?”
-“I said ‘no.’ It’s still daylight, Mom. I know it’s like 5 o’clock in the afternoon. It’s not bed time yet.”

Panicked, I glanced at the clock on the stove. It was 7:42pm.

-“Maddox, honey, it’s nearly 8, which is nearly bedtime, it’s just we had to change the clocks so now it’s light for longer.”
-“Nope. It’s afternoon still.”

Daylight Savings Time, you’re a jerk. You know what else you’ve done to me? Not only do my kids accuse me of putting them to bed two hours after I get them from school, but waking them up in the mornings is like waking up a room of hungover frat guys after pledge week.

-“Good morning sweet babies. Time to wake up for school okay?”
“Mooooaaaaaaammmmmmm whyyyyyyy? It’s like FOUR IN THE MORNING WHY ARE YOU SO MEAN WHY DO YOU WAKE US UP SO EARLY?!?!”
-“Baby, I promise it’s seven, it’s just, um, remember how the clocks had to be changed? Now when we wake up it’s really dark.”

DST, you’re ruining everything. You know where I want to be right now? Target Easter clearance sale, hoarding eggs, bunnies, and baby chicks. You know where I actually am right now? Creeping around my house like a ninja because my four year old stayed up until TEN FREAKING THIRTY last night and is sleeping so hard still that I have actually checked to see if he is breathing air, or if he perished sometime during the night. Do you know how terrifically fun it is to be screamed at by an overly tired toddler for three days straight? You don’t? Well sister DST, it is all together thrilling, I must tell you. Last week, we built a fire at 9:30pm because, why the heck not?

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No one was tired. No one was sleeping. Everyone had to be up at 7am, but whatever, man, you Daylight Savings Time, have sabotaged any semblance of routine here so TURN DOWN FOR WHAT it’s nearly summer.

Who even cares that I will most likely have the first child to flunk out of kindergarten because he cannot stay awake longer than six seconds during the day? Not me! You win DST. I have thrown up my hands. I have admitted defeat. Just keep that sun in the sky for 24 hours for all I care. I studied abroad in Russia during the white nights, where basically there was no darkness, so just bring it. Whatever. I’m done fighting you.

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Now, I know there are some of you out there reading this thinking to yourself, “Ashley, control your kids. Make them go to sleep.” And to you I say, go get in a lion cage at the zoo. Tell the big kitty to snuggle you rather than eat your face off. Did it work? Do you have a face? No? You don’t? BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT IT IS LIKE TRYING TO TELL MY ZOMBIEFIED TIRED BABIES TO GO TO SLEEP. Useless.

And, just in case y’all think I’m over here in North Knoxville, raising a tribe of feral lost boys, I have gathered testimonials from other mothers much like myself who have just given up on any actual routine or order.

“K” from next door says: “The days…they’re just…so long…” At least I think that’s what she said. Her eyes were glazed over and she could barely speak above a whisper because you, DST, have stolen all her sleep/life force/will to live.

“P” says: “I don’t get to work until 8:30, I’m supposed to be there at 7:30.” Cool DST. You’re probably getting people fired. But do you care? Apparently not since you’re still just doing your thing out there.

“L” says: “Not good.” All she could manage, as she was most likely so exhausted from being awake for 4,027,492,492 hours thanks to you Daylight Savings Time.

“J” says: “11 is the new 9.” She too has given up like me and just chosen not to fight you anymore.

100+ years ago, we needed you, DST. Candles, oil, and other primitive electric sources were in short supply and large demand. What better way to conserve than to adjust a little daylight here and there so humans would be awake during more of the natural daytime hours and use fewer resources? Perfect solution. Yay. Go human thought and ingenuity. Well, I get my electricity from the KUB here in 2016 and I would really appreciate it if you’d just back off, Daylight Savings Time. Leave me alone. Leave all of us alone. Go back to Europe in 1895 and do your thing but please just let me put my kids in bed at 8pm again.

Yours, until we fall backward in the fall the way nature intended it and my kids act like people again and not the modern day cast from Lord of the Flies,

Ashley

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Ashley
Mama to Maddox, Walker and Finn plus three unruly dogs: Nick Carraway, Ladybird, and Charlotte. Owner of Nest, a custom painting and furniture restoration business run out of my SoKno home. I've written for Knox Moms since 2014, and have also written for The Dollywood Company, Her View From Home, and Today.com. I'm a recovering type-a personality, overcaffinated, sleep with too many pillows, am a better person near water, and love a good British period drama or anything about gruesome true crime. I'm going to die trying to pet something I shouldn't or lifting furniture I have no business lifting, and am a firm believer in convenience meals. Probably a top contender for the title of World's Okayest Mom.

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