Usually you’ll find me complaining that I need a few more hours every single day to get everything done, or at least a couple of hours added to the week.

So today we were handed the lovely “gift” of an extra hour and yet, if I might, I still need want to complain for a wee moment here.

It was never-ending. The longest freaking day, e-v-e-r. I’m ready for bed and it is only 7:45pm.

J. and I got to go out to see some live music last night (Matt Nathanson at the Troubadour – very, very cool show!) but by the time we got back, cut the babysitter loose, and just sat to unwind for a few minutes it was very nearly 1am. Which, with the time change is only midnight, and that, albeit a little late for us old folks, is a fairly decent time to get to bed. But then little Miss Emma was up at 6am. I know, I know – it was 7am to her body, her normal rise-and-shine time, but ah…man. It just felt so early.

And then both girls were just all off-kilter today. And then there was “le nap resistance!” (You have to say it with a furious-sounding, French accent – for it to really be effective.) Two hours of fierce resisting any sort of nap. And when we finally gave in and got them up – it was only 3 o’clock. Three more hours until we could even conceivably think of trying to put them back to bed.

We ran to the park, and I let them play for awhile, hoping that would wear them out, but it only made Addie completely slap-happy. J. got some really funny video of her, at least. I’ll get it from him and put it up later this week.

Anyhow – the girls are soundly sleeping. Now I need to go get ready for the week and recover from the “extra hour” trauma.