Every parent falls into one of two camps when the clocks change.
Camp one is the planner. She started inching bedtimes earlier a week out, ten minutes here, fifteen there, microdosing the transition so Sunday would land softly. Camp two looked at the calendar, accepted her fate, and decided that if she’s getting rocked either way, she might as well roll with it. Halloween falling on the same weekend helped camp two. Kids were going to be up late regardless, so there was a built-in excuse for the chaos.
Here’s the funny part. It does not matter which camp you’re in.
Your kid is getting up an hour early no matter what you did. The only exception is the one-in-a-million parent whose child simply adjusts to whatever the clock says, no questions asked. I am not that parent. I’m guessing most of you aren’t either.
Which brings us to Sunday morning. 5:30am, and I’m on the living room floor building with magnet tiles, because my kid’s body is on the old schedule and has zero interest in the new one. He is bright eyed, fully charged, and ready to go. I am operating on pure muscle memory and the hope that coffee is a real thing.
So if your Sunday started before the sun did, here’s your permission slip. Drink the coffee or the tea or whatever gets you vertical. Put on Miss Rachel. Put on Sesame Street. Put on whatever early morning TV you would never normally allow.
Give yourself the grace. You earned it, and the clock did this to us.
We’ll all adjust in about a week. Right around the time spring forward comes to wreck us again.
Which parent are you, the microdoser or the roll-with-it? And what did your kid’s body clock do to you on Sunday? Tell me in the comments.
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