I am sick today…and not the normal kind of sick.
I knew I had lost the battle that I had been fighting with daily doses of Vitamin C all week when another security guard came into work last night and said, “Geez, you look like hell.”
And I took it as a compliment.
No, this is definitely not the achy stomach, stuffy nose kind of sick. I don’t think any amount of pills or medicinal liquids is going to cure what ails me.
This is more like a hangover combined with playing in a NFL football game sans pads.
Unfortunately, this “hangover” comes without the fun of a prior night of partying or my best friend sitting next to me in the jail cell proclaiming, “Wow… that was a heck of a time.”
No, this is just blah.
Now in a perfect world, I would be sent immediately to bed to rest and recover in a timely fashion.
However, the last time I was able to spend any extended periods of time in a bed during daylight hours was 13, 11, and 5 years ago respectively. But that also included my legs being up in stirrups and a number of strangers doing unspeakable acts in unspeakable places and then being told to “push.”
So you’ll have to forgive me my dear readers when I desperately begged in my head this morning for Sean to simply be quiet.
I could not take another moment of sound, another moment of having to concentrate on what he was trying to say.
Thanks to the Internet, this blog is read in several countries around the world. It’s hard to believe that fact because I’m just a mom living in a small town writing about my life with my kid. However, I say this because I have to explain a phenomenon that occurs in only about one-third of the countries worldwide.
Yes, I’m talking about observing Daylight Savings Time.
Every fall the majority of my country “turns back” our clocks one hour. It has something to do with energy savings and was adopted around the time of one of the world wars of the last century.
We also “Spring forward” every spring and move our clocks forward one hour.
Yes, it’s all very complicated. One day you get screwed by an hour. Months later, you get your wish of having 25 hours in a single day.
While it was all done for environmental reasons, it does nothing for our body clocks. In the fall, we get an extra hour of sleep yet still gripe and moan about being “off.”
In other words, it’s a government issued license to complain for a week while you “adjust.”
In the spring it’s even better. You not only get to complain for the week, but on Day 1 of the new time, you also have a built in excuse for being late. “Oh, I forgot to turn my clock. Sorry.”
I understand it. My next-door neighbours understand it. The majority of America understands it.
Sean does not.
I can tell him to Google it. I can tell him that it’s a law. I can tell him that it’s a huge conspiracy to make us read the manuals of everything that is programmable in our lives.
I can tell him and yet, he will not understand.
If he was 3 years old, I’d tell him that Elmo wants him to learn how to tell time and this is how we do it.
Sean is 13 and should be able to grasp a concept – no, an accepted twice-yearly part of our lives – without much difficultly.
But today he is being obstinate. He simply refuses to accept anything we tell him or anything that he has read.
The roads in his head are blocked, impassable to logic, fact, even humor.
And today is not a day that I want to try and pave a new way into his brain.
I can’t do it. I simply can’t.
So the clocks will change and Sean will not.
Tomorrow will be a new day of 24…not 25 hours… and hopefully, the fog will lift, the roads will open and I can try again.
But for today, I will give in and let him be.
As for me, I’ll admit that the armor that protects my super-mom-ness has a crack in it.
Yes, World, today I am sick.
Tomorrow, and paving that new road, will simply just have to wait. I am going to bed now and the only pushing I will do will be on the buttons of the television remote.