Daylight Schmaylight

Anyone who is close to me knows that early rising is not a problem for me. Nine o'clock feels like I've slept the day away, and I prefer to get up and get going.

That said, anyone who is close to me also knows that Andy is my polar opposite in every way, including in sleep philosophies. Usually, I heckle and complain about the imbalanced morning responsibilities in the Burt home, but without any real fervor because I know I'd be awake - with or without kids.

That all went out the window last Sunday.

You see, I do love waking up early, but I love it because it's my only time to be completely alone. I get up, creep out of the house and go running or to the gym, and if I'm really ambitious, I may even hit the grocery store all before my kiddies and/or husband begin to stir. For a working mom who spends the rest of her day putting out fires under tight deadlines and then comes home to cooking and cleaning and bathtime and playtime and and and and and, that one unfettered pre-daylight hour is a mirage of bliss amidst the hurricane of chaos that is life with small children.

Enter Daylight Savings Time. With the back-turn of the clock's hour hand, my early-morning solitude has been snatched from my fingertips, thanks to a too-early rising sun and two rooster-minded children whose eyelids snap open with the break of day. And with that backwards step in time, I am becoming increasingly desperate for a solution and find myself wishing P and N had inherited their father's sleep habits instead of mine.

Beginning Sunday morning, and continuing every morning since, Nora has awoken promptly at 5:15 a.m. After some ignoring that turns her whines to screams, and then some rocking and shushing, I can usually get her back to sleep (and mind you, I am not usually a rocker and shusher; I prefer the cry it out method, and until now, my kiddos have been model children in the sleep department). By then, Porter and his tattered green blanket have stumbled out of bed with demands for a cartoon and breakfast. And just like that, 5:00 has turned in to 6:30, and I'm left recalculating my morning plans...I can brush my teeth, pop in my contacts and throw on some running garb in five minutes...the drive to the gym takes another five...and I'll probably be waiting for a treadmill for at least another five minutes after I arrive. Is the 20 minutes I'd then have at the gym worth the effort? Should I risk being late for work for the 300th day in a row (basically, since Nora was born)? Can I find the time and energy to cram some exercise in this evening instead? Will I ever be able to take a one-hour morning spin class again? Should I risk the cesspool of germs that is the gym daycare and commit to an evening workout while Andy is coaching? Could I realistically squeeze a run in to my lunch hour, and then would I really want to do the whole shower, make-up, hair routine for a second time each day? After a baby and then a foot surgery, will I ever get back in to running shape? Do I care? Should I care?

Yes! This is me taking a stand against Daylight Savings Time. It throws order and predictability to the wind and makes me cranky, flabby and jumbled. Anyone else out there wishing they lived in Arizona or Hawaii now that the clocks have jumped backwards?

Snickers, Starburst & Swine Flu

Looks like I should have rapped my knuckles against the desk as I blogged last week of our almost-brush with the swine flu because just one week later, Porter got hit hard by something that walked and talked enough like swine flu to warrant yet another nasal swab for the Burt kids. And though we're still waiting on the final test results, we're pretty sure the flu season's biggest bully decided to pick on us after all. And, of course, just in time for Halloween.

And now you ask, what do you do with an almost-four-year-old who has been inquiring about trick-or-treating every morning for the past three weeks when he suddenly gets hit by the plague of the 2000s?

Load him up on liquids and medicine; use trick-or-treating as a bribe for a follow-up doctor's visit, an extra nap and a plate full of fruits and veggies (for good measure); and be overly cautious with your trick-or-treat buddies to the point of asking them to sign a wavier acknowledging their willful participation in Halloween festivities with a swine flu-stricken child.

Thanks to the miracle that is Tamiflu (and the go-ahead from our pediatrician), Porter's immune system threw a hail mary in the final hours before dusk on Saturday. And with an extra layer of clothes, a stroller ride from door to door, and fingers crossed, our little monkey thoroughly enjoyed canvassing the neighborhood for sugared bliss with his pal Spiderman.

A big thanks to Wesley's parents for having the foresight to get him immunized before Halloween. Spiderman is impervious to human germs anyway, right?

Beyond trick-or-treating, we enjoyed our traditional pre-sugar frenzy pumpkin-shaped pizza, and while the moms and boys hit the pavement, Nora and her pal Viv manned the candy bowl at home with the dads.

Unfortunately, Andy started feeling worse and worse throughout the evening, and we forgot to get a family Halloween pic. But we did manage to snap a few of just Porter and Nora before the festivities began. It was so much fun when they first saw one another in costume; they were both so excited, especially Nora, who giggled and climbed all over her big brother.

The ballerina-bunny (cut me some slack, this was my first Halloween with a girl and there are too many pink, ruffled options to choose just one) conquered the much larger but more gentle monkey, and with any luck, we'll be able to same the same of the Burts over Swine Flu very soon (Andy's still hanging on to a sore throat and wall-shaking cough).

Happy Halloween!

The costumes are nearly ready, the candy jar has been filled multiple times, and the pumpkins have been picked.

Now on to the festive greetings.

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Up next: a little carving, car decorating (for a trunk-or-treat contest) and on Saturday, trick-or-treating at last. Happy Halloween!