Furthermore, the end of Daylight Savings Time has brought a pall upon our home. In the grand tradition of toddlers everywhere my son has gone completely haywire with the time change. He’s waking up too damn early; he’s grumpy and tired but wants to party anyway. Oh wait. He’s like that every day. No, I’ve come to realize that he’s just being himself.
It’s me that’s struggling here. I’m the one who is grumpy and tired and hating this dark and hideous month. And my energy reserves are decreasing rapidly. It’s hard to be a good parent in the month of November.
In this dark and dreary month, all I want to do is hunker down on my couch under a thick blanket and eat Cheetos. I want to block out the world and watch bad television while playing Words with Friends. I don’t want to play hockey in the basement with my kid. I don’t want to endure endless games of play fighting like pirates. I don’t want to deal with bedtime routines and potty training. I don’t want to hear whining. I don’t care what he eats for dinner. It’s entirely possible he’s watching too much television at this particular juncture. I just want to slack off for awhile.
I’m fairly certain that once we adjust to darkness at 4 pm and our skin thickens from constant exposure to the cold, I will start to feel more like myself. I will throw myself headfirst into planning for Christmas and spend hours inspiring myself from Pinterest. We will write a beautiful letter to Santa Claus, telling him all the reasons that my son has been good this year, and conveniently forgetting to include the bad behaviour. We’ll decorate our tree and wrap presents and wear cozy sweaters. I will bake and make batches of wholesome soup that warms the soul. And when it snows, we’ll make a snowman and snow angels and drink hot chocolate together. Our memories will be captured in beautiful photographs that we will look at for years to come. It will be beautiful.
But for now, I just want to go back to bed. And be grumpy. And stare resentfully at the 3 feet of leaves that continue to pile up in my backyard, mocking me and reminding me of the back-breaking labour that needs to happen to make them disappear. I hate November.
