8 November 2010

Neener neener.

By no means are my kids good sleepers. Wait, that's not entirely true. Liam is a good sleeper. Then again he's 11 and doesn't need me to hold his hand anymore. So as much as he counts, he doesn't count in this instance.

No, the needy toddlers are not good sleepers. In a 24 hour period I can count on only a solid 3 hours of not having at least one of them hanging off some part of my body. That would be between when they're put to bed for the night and when Josh wakes up for the first time.

And then the second time. And the third time. And oh wait, lets thrown in just one more, fun times!

I digress.

Time change does weird things to kids and none of those weird things are good. Most of them have to do with sleeping patterns getting jacked up and crankiness and much hair pulling of parents. Or so I hear.

For 11 years I've dreaded time change because of the potential for disaster. All of my kids have naturally put themselves on pretty strict schedules, so a whole hour of change? Lord, there's just no way they should be able to deal with that easily.

Except mine do, with a minimum of fuss. It's not like they didn't have meltdowns or get really tired. They did, but it's so par for the course here that I barely noticed it.

Do you want to hit me for escaping time change relatively unscathed? That's okay, I want to hit you for having good sleepers.

Unless you don't have good sleepers and STILL got shafted by time change. In that case you have my permission to call me a smug bitch.

Watch, since I dared open my mouth about my good fortune I will never have a decent time change experience again. Karma's like that.

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