Since it’s been a few days since the recent time change, it’s a good time to commiserate about it. Whoever invented Daylight Saving Time did not have a baby in the house. If they did, they would’ve split the difference with a half hour and been done with it. Since I’ve had a baby around for the past eight years, I know all about “Fall Back” and “Spring Forward.” Messing with a well-oiled machine is risky business. That’s why I despise the clock changing.

Everyone (without a baby, that is) likes the “Fall Back” part. This is when ordinary folks get an extra hour of sleep. Or else, they show up to an empty church parking lot and pause for a few seconds until it hits them. When you have a baby with an internal clock that rises with the sun, however, the only thing you get with “Fall Back” is the privilege of getting up an hour earlier everyday. The house now awakes at 6 a.m. instead of 7 a.m. Or lucky me, this morning the baby was ready for the approaching sun at 5:20 a.m.

Now, my husband leaves for work when it is dark outside. (Remember, he is working two jobs until the end of the year.) This morning, he left at 4:15 a.m. So this time change doesn’t affect him, unless you count a cranky wife as “affecting.” I’m ready for lunch, the baby needs a nap, and alas, it’s only 8:30 a.m. This makes for a very long day.

Here’s the thing. Nobody ever goes to sleep an hour earlier to compensate for the early rising. Maybe this is why the holiday season is so stressful? It comes right after the “Fall Back” time change. Going to bed earlier is difficult. We rise earlier, and consequently, have more waking hours to our day. Are we doing more and more with less and less sleep?

I need lots of sleep. Through trial and error, I have discovered that nine hours is optimum sleep for me. This is difficult with the lifestyle I’ve chosen. I rarely get nine hours. I am busy. I work hard and sleep light.

Even though I’m tired, sometimes I lie awake at night. Amy Carmichael said that the wee hours are “when all life’s molehills become mountains.” I make lists, sort mental clutter, and think about tomorrow’s agenda. I try not to worry. Worrying is sin. The good news is that exhaustion usually overtakes me before I can fall too headlong into this sin.