Ezra goes to bed every night at 8:00 PM.
This isn’t because I am some structure-crazed scheduling fanatic, but because at exactly 7:59 PM every day, all of my energy instantly runs out and I am immediately too drained to make even one more airplane noise or GASP with awe over one more game of “let’s hide Thomas behind a pillow and then pull him back out 6 seconds later with much GASPing and awe!” weeeee!
I am at home with my son all day everyday, and I am so grateful and appreciative of the fact that I am able to do this at all. It’s such a blessing to our family. But after 12 straight hours of enthusiastic clapping and cheering for my son while repeating the SAME WORDS over and over and over again (“Juice-juice? Can you say Juice-juice? Airplane!! Thomas! Ball? Throw the ball! YAY! Good boy! Now, catch! Where’s your nose? Eyes? Ears? Mouth? Goooood booooy! Is that a doggie? Did you hear a doggie? Bye-bye? You wanna go bye bye? But where’s your shoes? Can you say shoes? What’s a snake say? GASP! Eat your food! Eat it. Eat it. Open up. Eat it. Eat it. Goood Booooy! No, no don’t spit out your food…don’t spit it out!! eat it. eat it. eat it. please? [times infinity] ) one gets a little, um, shall we say unbalanced?
So, around 7:00pm, (on good nights) I start watching the minutes slowly unfold on the microwave clock in the kitchen- anxious for the moment I can lay Ezra in his crib and close the door and GO HOG WILD. You know, do crazy things like bathe and watch Will & Grace re-runs and catch up on my W’s. (My http://www.’s.) (Get it? Meaning the internet?…. oh, dear lord- let’s just forget i ever said that.) I read my book and I munch on cheese puffs and dunk Oreos and I talk to my husband, or I write about my husband to all you fine folks. Yeah, watch out, world! You ain’t seen partyin’ till you’ve seen me in my Mickey Mouse Pajamas, eatin’ crushed ice and checkin’ my MySpace… woot woot!
But here’s the trouble: all this farting around makes my average bedtime about 1:00 AM. I just get in this mode of enjoying MY time after Ezra goes down and I lose all desire for sleep. So, when Ezra wakes up at 7:00 the next morning, I am TIRED somepin’ fierce. I drag my feet around all morning…and afternoon…and evening until it’s 7:00 and I’m craning my neck to see the microwave clock again. And, without fail, every time I put Ezra to bed I get this burst of energy and I can’t sleep. I’m all out of whack.
Now, add to all of this a frickin TIME CHANGE and you’ve got yourself one big, giant mess. I’m a mess. He’s a mess. We’re all a mess mess. It’s enough to make me move to Arizona where the time stays the same and a nap/sleep schedule can live in peace.
Good thing my parents are here to help. Although, coming from Nevada, they are still adjusting from a two hours time difference from our Central Standard time PLUS that one hour we lost Saturday, MINUS the one they also then lost Pacific Standard Time and … uh… hmm…. aww, forget it.
I’m gonna go get me some oreos and come up with a million different reasons for not crawling in bed right now. Like Slingo. WARNING: Don’t click that link unless you have aspirations of becoming a cheese-puff-eating, Mickey-Mouse-Pajama-Wearin’ insomniac like me.
PS. This post was a Spell Check NIGHTMARE.