Oh lordy, I think somehow when we set the clocks forward Saturday night, it opened some sort of portal that allowed a horrifying demon-spirit through to possess my children. We set the clocks an hour later, so naturally they both woke up three hours earlier than normal on Monday.
One of the paradoxes of small children is that when they haven't slept enough, they don't drag around looking tired before requesting an early nap. That would be what their parents do. No, instead they became increasingly more manic and wild in a desperate bid to stay awake at all costs. Thank goodness B took the afternoon off, so together we managed to pry our children off the chandelier and collapse in a family nap.
Today, K ran away from me in the school parking lot and went outside after I told her not to, so our trip to the playground got cancelled and my evening of solo parenting was off to a rousing start. I don't blame K for being upset, since it was a beautiful day. But repeatedly defying me, and then when I sent her to her room instead running into her brother's room where he was napping and screaming wore my sympathy a bit thin. One of the most wearing things about this sort of day is that K feels the need to cling to me as closely as possible to make sure I still love her, and still defy me at every turn to demonstrate that I'm not the boss of her. I look forward to her teen years so.
Alec, meanwhile, has started sleeping like a newborn again - eating every two hours, and not sleeping well anywhere but on a parent's chest, firmly swaddled. Hello, 37 week developmental spurt, no doubt made extra piquant by all of the physical developments he's been making lately.
I am so very tired.
On the other hand, K spent part of this afternoon calling me "Princess Horse" (which is to say she was the princess and I was her horse, not that I was a horse princess) and hitching me up to her carriage so we could go looking for dragons to slay, which she would do with one mighty swipe of her sword. And Alec manages to defeat any irritation you might feel when he loses any ability to play independently by being the most gratifying child in the world to pick up. Grin, grin, press lovingly against your chest, pull back and look utterly delighted, press lovingly again, Oh! It's you! My life is complete now! Now put me down so I can go chew on that power cord.
So maybe I'll keep them.