Time

I’m 31 years old. Personally, I don’t think 31 is that old — in fact, I think it might even be the new 25. Yeah, if anyone asks, I’m basically 25. But sometimes I’ll do something and realize that wow, I’m totally feeling old. For example: jumping on a trampoline. That’s just not something I can do anymore. At least not without getting a bit damp. Or roller coasters. I used to love them but now they kind of make me nauseated. I have yet to reach the point where I have to preemptively take an antacid before a big meal, so at least that’s something.  For now, I keep telling myself that I’m hip and young and vibrant, possibly more energetic than I’ve ever been.

One thing that has been a struggle these days is getting up in the morning. Growing up, I was always an early riser. I used to love going to friends for sleepovers, but the morning after was always the hardest. I’d lay in bed staring at the ceiling while my friend would sleep in. I would make extra trips to the bathroom and stare at their closets to pass the time. In my later years, I’d pack extra snacks to keep myself entertained. I would constantly check the clock until it was an appropriate time to wake my friend and then I would cough loudly or make some noise to make it known that I’m ready to start my day.

Fast forward like fifteen years.

Sleep? Love it. Can’t get enough of it. My kids are going through this phase where they love it too. I fear this might be short-lived so I’m cherishing every moment. School starts at 8:50 and our commute is around three minutes depending on elevator traffic. Annie usually wakes up first. She lets me know she’s up and asks to go to the bathroom. (As if I’d say no?) But fine. She’ll get herself a yogurt and then watch TV or do a project. She knows not to wake me again until around eight o’clock. Of course, being a five-year-old, she sometimes forgets and will come in saying Mommy? Is there school today? Because it’s 8:32. Crap. That’s when I shoot up in bed, kind of like that scene from Home Alone when they oversleep for the airport. This is when the fun starts. I have approximately twenty minutes to get myself dressed, pick out four sets of clothing, pack backpacks, lunches, snacks and healthy snacks. I’ll write mitzvah notes if necessary, make breakfast, see who has show-and-tell, sign any homework, make sure everyone is dressed and has their hair did. Sometimes after all this is done, I’ll realize that Judah is still asleep so I have to wake him, pop a waffle in the microwave and dress him almost as though he were a baby because he has no interest in cooperating at the ungodly hour. There’s also Lisi who likes to unpack the bags and find the good snacks. When I get to school at nine o’clock and see that my kids are usually last I’m like wait a sec, I’m only ten minutes late? Well done.


Now I know that if I was slightly more organized and did some of this the night before it would be less chaotic, but for now this is where we stand.

Daylight savings wasn’t really a good thing for me as a kid. The last thing I wanted was an extra hour of sleep. An extra hour of puttering around until it was wake-up time. Most children’s shows didn’t start until six and reading wasn’t my thing. Just to sidetrack, if I grew up in 2015 this wouldn’t even have been an issue. We can call it #growingupintheninetiesproblems.

This year I’ve been looking forward to daylight savings. An extra hour added to my life. I’ll admit that Sunday was a bit of a surreal day. It seemed like every time I’d look at the clock it had barely changed; it almost felt like time was moving backwards. We went about our day and the next thing I knew it was 6:00pm, which on the old time was 7:00pm. Bedtime. I still haven’t changed all of the clocks just so I can tell my kids that our family goes by the “old time” at night. By 6:30 that evening everyone was fast alseep and I had my night. It was luxurious.

The next morning, Annie came in to ask to use the bathroom (again, you don’t have to ask every time, but I do appreciate the wake up). At first I looked at the clock and saw 8:35, but then remembered that I still hadn’t changed the clock in my room. Very confusing. I rolled out of bed at 7:40, picked out the clothing, packed the bags, signed what needed to be signed and it was only 7:55. I ate my breakfast sitting. I straightened things up a little, ran the washing machine and dishwasher. 8:05. Got the middles dressed, fed the baby, changed two more dirty diapers and did hair. 8:15. I mean seriously, this daylight savings thing is like the gift of time. Never did I think I’d appreciate if, but I suppose it’s just a sign that I’m growing up.

Now of course, that morning we were still late to school. But come on, it’s preschool. So they miss ten minutes of play? That’s certainly something I can supplement at home.

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