Assassinater of Peace

Assassinater of Peace is my new term, my new more accurate descriptive phrase, to label daylight savings time. Daylight Savings of Death and Doom was my other idea. You can use it if you want.

I have one extremely sensitive child. She could probably have an entire alphabet after her name if I were to ever bother totalling up all of her diagnosis. Not to mention the several I have personally added with no professional medical or neurological authority to do so.

So this Assassinater of Peace pushes time forward in order that there will be longer hours of sunlight in the summer. Cleverly disguised as something useful, it actually forces me to get up an hour earlier, and anything that negatively affects my sleep in any fashion, is something to be derided. Beyond that though, I never paid much attention to any of it. Until a short bundle of joy tip toed through the daisy's lining the cobblestones of the path on her toe walking feet and crashed into my front door. And this little bundle of joy, does not like things that change.

I know full well I have mentioned this before. But changed things continue to happen in this world despite all attempts to spin it my way, to Genea's way. No one appears to be listening.

May a rabid dog carry his wee wee through an alligator swamp and deposit it in a den of wolves. While there appear to be several people credited with inventing this stupid idea, one thing for sure is that the inventor was not a woman. Women, invent useful things. Like White Out.

Although this Assassinater of Peace Daylight Savings junk professes to only affect ONE hour, upon the end of the first day, Genea did not go to sleep until after 11 pm. She overslept 3 of 4 days. Her hard fought and won ability to avoid oceanfront bedding disappeared. And the wango tango visited us all. week. long. Sleeping on the floor and peeing to the carpet. Peeing on the rug I put over the stain on the carpet. Hyper vigilance at its height. No ability to self regulate. No ability to occupy herself. And perhaps the most frightening of all, a full pant pee accident at school.

Two new problems have perked up this past week. The first, is trying to hide or lie about peeing the bed. We never want anyone to hide urine stains, we want to clean them. This is a very bad sign and I am trying desperately to put an end to it. Stuff a cork in it. ACK!!!

The other is a food related problem. Asking for specific food and then refusing to eat it. And stealing food, taking one bite, then trying to 'hide' it in the trash. We don't try to make her eat, not because we are kind and supportive and rich parents, but because if you tell Genea she has to finish her food, she will. And then she will vomit. All of it.

She wins.

Of course, you would have to blow up the Barbie camper for Teena to notice anything, so she has been just fine. She announced one day this past week that she was going to get married, so she and Genea walked around with big towels on their heads as veils. Teena decided she is going to marry me. Genea thought that sounded good to her too. I pointed out that I was already married to Daddy but no one cared. Teena later thought she might need to have a boy for this, but was trying to find a way to only minimally involve one, so as to not bother me. Good girl.