DST day 1 6:30 am er… 7:30 am
The Child pats me on the shoulder. “Mommy, it’s morning.”
I look over and see the time. I realize that if this was a weekday, we’d already be an hour late.
But I feel pretty good, so we get up.

DST Day 2
Morning is at between 6:20 and 6:30 at our house, and I get to be the alarm clock once it’s obvious the twelve alarms on clocks and cell phones aren’t going to work. The Child has snuck into our bed in the night, so I try to wake her. First, I coo nice things. Then I shake her gently. Then I give up and give her five more minutes.
Then we all have to get up. The Child eventually gets up and wobbles into her room. Keep in mind that getting a Kindergartener up for school is like convincing a bag full of lackadaisical squirrels to go put on socks and shoes on the best days. Doing it an hour earlier…
It was about ten minutes later that we realized she’d spent all of that time counting something of little consequence. I think it was beads on a necklace or something. Whatever. There was yelling.

DST Day 3
The Child slept on the couch in the living room for some reason. Probably because she was running away from the morning and thought it would take longer to find her down there. I wake up to all of the ten or so alarms I have set (they start at about 5:45, and continue in fifteen minute intervals until about 6:15, when they turn into five minute intervals) and decide that all of them are stupid and I’m sleeping at least a snooze button longer.
My husband tells me where the child is sleeping, so I go downstairs, wake her up and head to the bathroom to do my morning ablutions. I hear my husband using the shock and awe technique of waking a sleeping five-year old, because she didn’t think I was serious about this morning thing. She then claims to need help getting dressed, so I rush out, and help her to change clothes.
I realize as we’re putting on jackets and backpacks that I forgot to brush my teeth, so I run and do that. The Child tries to leave without shoes. I officially give up for the day.

DST Day 4
Ibuprofen is the word of the day. I wake up with a headache the size of a flyover state.
The Child at least seems to have gotten up and gotten dressed by herself. It’s St. Patrick’s day so she’s excited to dress in green, which is the best thing about the holiday short of whiskey.
I remember there will be whiskey and can summon the motivation to get on with the day.
Husband takes care of the Child, and I stumble through my morning routine.

DST Day 5
Wake up feeling like I haven’t slept despite having fallen asleep on the couch at around 8:30. Groggily realize that that was only 7:30 a mere 6 days ago, and where did the time go?
What is time?
Have short panic attack as I realize that time is a mere construct made by humans and has no real bearing on the world.
Another alarm goes off and the imaginary construct is ratcheting down on my sleepy time.
I have to get up and make non-imaginary coffee, and make sure my non-imaginary kid goes to what I’m fairly certain is real school.

DST Day 6

*Muffled sobbing*

WHY CAN’T THIS WEEK JUST END?

At least tomorrow I can sleep.

DST Day 7
6:30 AM
The Child pats me on the shoulder.
“Mommy, it’s morning. ”
Noooooo!

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