It was a weekend filled with fear. I'm not referring to Saturday night when I laughed my way through ScareHouse either. I'm referring to the special brand of horror that only Daylight Savings Time can conjure. There is something about that one hour change that throws the entire universe out of whack, and forces me to quiver with fear. The kid. She knows this. She uses it to torture me.
5:32 am: I was awaked by the short person poking me in the face. *Poke* *Poke* *Poke* "Are you awake, momma?" I told her I wasn't, but she didn't believe me. Somehow I managed to do the Daylight Savings math and figured out that there was ABSOLUTELY NO FREAKING REASON the kid should be awake. GAH!
6:15 am: While I was busy trying to pretend to still be asleep, I was also fully aware that the kid was wandering around the master bedroom getting into stuff. My first clue might have been the princess sticker she slapped onto my forehead at 6:15 am.
6:50 am: I began offering to pay the kid to just go sit in her room and read books until an adult was ready to be alive. I think I owe her a House-filled Barbie Dream now, but I'm not entirely sure. Maybe it was a Dreamy House on Barbie's Street? Or a Dreamy Barbie in her House?
Somehow we all survived the day, but then the evening proved to be even more frightening.
Fast forward to 5: 59 pm: As we exited off the interstate, I realized it was awfully quiet in the back seat. I glanced over my shoulder and instantly thought a few dozen curse words. While normally Alexis is a robot with batteries that rarely need recharged, for once she was showing her human side. She had fallen asleep.
6:05 pm: My mind was at war with itself. One part of me was all, "NEVER WAKE THE SLEEP ZOMBIE," but the other part was all, "If roles were reversed, she would wake you up in a heartbeat." I needn't have worried, though, as Mr. Husband decided to get her out of the car. Brave? Crazy? That's a debate that will go on for centuries.
6:21 pm: Somehow the Sleep Zombie managed to stay asleep during her transfer from car to house, so I grabbed her from Mr. Husband and sat down to snuggle for a bit. It had been a very long time since I got to sit on the couch and listen to soft little baby snores.
6:50 pm: The Sleep Zombie was still snoring. I had started to get nervous. Was this nap thing going to interfere with bed time? Should I wake her up? Should I run for a bomb shelter if I did? How was it that baby snores could go from cute to threatening so quickly?
7:03 pm: Dinner had not yet happened.I was trapped beneath a pile of preschooler arms and legs, so Mr. Husband delivered a bowl of cereal to me. I tried not to drop a dehydrated marshmallow on the kid's head.
7:10 pm: I started to realize that the cereal wasn't all that great of an idea. I kinda sorta needed to go to the bathroom, but there was no way I could move without waking up the kid. Fear trumps all, so I stayed put.
7:34 pm: My eyeballs floated away.
7:35 pm: I was still more scared of waking up the kid than I was of ending up in a puddle on the couch.
7:36 pm: I realized that if I did the Daylight Savings Time math, it was technically the kid's bedtime. CRAP. CRAP. CRAP.
7:40 pm: I began a mental list of potential pros and cons to waking the kid up. World peace was on the pro side. Certain death was on the con side.
7:56 pm: I decided that I was bigger than her, meaner than her, and I had duct tape. She was getting some pajamas on.
8:07 pm: The Sleep Monster opened her eyes. I all but threw her out of my lap and ran as far and as fast as I could.
8:08 pm: I returned to the family room and found that the surly short person had found her way back onto the couch and had gone back to sleep. I might have cussed a few times.
8:09 pm: That sound you heard? That was my head getting ripped off when I successfully changed the kid into pajamas.
8:10 pm: That other sound you heard? That was me running away as fast as I could. I don't deal well with angry children.
8:20 pm. Silence. In the family room. The kid had fallen back asleep. I was paralyzed by fear as I tried to figure out whether to wake her up and have her eat something since she had missed our ultra-fancy cereal dinner or if I should just put her in her bed and prepare for a 2:00 am wake-up call.
8:31 pm: I finally made a decision. Snack time. Obviously, I survived, but I'm not sure how.
9:20 pm: SOMEONE was wide awake and perky. SOMEONE was not me.
9:24 pm: SOMEONE claimed she wasn't at all tired. Gee, I wonder why not?
9:25 pm: SOMEONE and I went to war, but eventually I won and she wound up in bed.
9:46 pm: I realized that the Sleep Zombie had, in fact, fallen asleep.
9:47 pm: I started to fear for my life. Again. SOMEONE is going to wake up very early, and she's probably going to force me to join her in the most painful way possible. $10 says I can't sleep tonight because I'm too scared to close my eyes lest I'm attacked by an evil-not-sleeping child.
Pssst . . . Christmas Crazy currently stands at $600. If you want to hear the childhood trauma-filled story about how I became convinced horses were part of the devil's army, you have to make that $1000. Fair is fair, after all.