When Ten Minutes Equals Fifteen

Daylight savings time, or the lack of it, is kicking Olivia’s butt. Poor child is so tired in the evenings she can barely eat dinner. She’s just hanging on long enough to sit through three books right after dinner but then she’s out. She hasn’t made it past 7:00 yet.

I know, it’s only been two days but it’s tough on her. Her little body thinks it’s later and she’s tired and hungry and just a little cranky.

I keep trying to get her to sleep a little later, but again, her brain is on Daylight Savings Time and so she’s awake at 5am, ready to start the day. She gets that morning stuff from her dad.

Anyway, this morning we got up ten minutes early because I was hoping to get out of the house a bit early so I could go vote. Every vote counts, don’t you know?!? Those ten minutes means Olivia only had to lay next to me, wide awake for about 45 minutes. I know. I’m not proud but I am tired so…


I usually have to go wake Alyssa up about twenty minutes after Olivia and I get up but this morning, she was awake and, get this, cheerful, about five minutes after O and I were. I don’t know either.

And what do you know? Those ten minutes of getting up early turned into fifteen minutes before the morning was over. We were all ready and I was able to leave to go vote fifteen minutes before I usually leave for the day.

Maybe this whole falling back thing isn’t so bad after all. I’ll let you know in a week when Olivia’s finally gotten the memo.

Speaking of voting, my husband informed me last weekend that my dad is a gossip. When he said that, I asked him to tell me something I don’t already know. But then I asked him to elaborate. How did HE know my dad is a gossip? Apparently, while at an auction the week before, Tom ran into one of our neighbors. This neighbor can often be found at the local mechanic’s garage, a place my dad also often frequents. Upon on such visit, my dad and the neighbor got to talking politics. My dad let the neighbor know how I was planning to vote. I asked Tom if Neighbor had told him (Tom) how I was going to vote because I’d like to know since my dad seems to know.

Now, let me say right here that I’m a horrible daughter. I know that politics are a touchy subject for my dad and so I often can be heard saying things I know will rile him. It’s mean, I know. So…he thinks he knows how I voted based on things I’ve said to him in the past. I think he’s probably wrong. And we’ll leave the political discussion alone now, thank you very much.