“Napping is fun.”
My children would always snicker and scoff when I would say such a thing. But I really wish someone would send me to my room and tell me to go take a nap.
Especially when I am grumpy and whiny and my eyes are doing that droopy thing. If you asked my Kindergarten classes what is Mrs. Kelli’s favorite thing to do they would pipe up quite readily with the answer- take a nap. Once, I actually had a student offer to watch the class for me so I could put my head down on my desk and take a snoozer. I couldn’t accept his gift, but it was a lovely gesture.
Napping is a decadent and luxurious exit from a busy day. It creates extra energy to conquer the rest of those nagging items on your plate with aplomb and vigor. It is an excellent attitude adjuster. Sometimes I even wake up with bright, new ideas to pursue or more efficient angles on tired subjects. It inclines me to have more prevalent breezy spells and winning smiles.
Most of the time my day is too packed to squeeze in a nap. I have to plan my naps carefully because a Thwarted Nap is worse than no nap at all.
A Thwarted Nap can cause me to don Monster Attitude. This development is best to be avoided for all involved. If I think the odds are stacked against a successful napping experience, it is best to just grab an energy drink and trudge napless through the rest of the day.
Aside from my busy schedule, I also have to deal with the Antinapping Ninja, my four-year-old daughter Sabrina. Napping has been off of her list of things to do for over a year now. But her hatred is still fresh. The mere mention of the word brings fire to her eyes and angry hisses from her lips. I have given up battling to get her to take a nap. But I will still battle to get mine.
Occasionally, I can grab a quickie nap while she is in Prekindergarten, but this is a dilemma because this is also the only time in the day that I am alone and able to do things without my four-year-shadow.
Sometimes I try to swing a nap on the weekend if I have reinforcements. I will tell her that I am going to ‘lay down’. It is best not to use the ‘N word’. I tell her to talk to Daddy or her older sister Gina if any need arises. Then I attempt to lie down in my bed.
My door will be cautiously opened by the Antinapping Ninja.
“Mommy, I’m hungry.”
“Tell Gina to get you a snack,” I grumble.
“Mommy, Tony stuck his tongue out at me.”
“Tell your dad,” I moan.
“Mommy, the puppy pooped on the floor.”
“Mommy, can you put this dress on my Barbie?”
“No!” I roar.
Then Monster Attitude is awake and snarling.
Yesterday was a Sunday. All of the kids were home as well as my husband. I determined that I would wrestle a nap out of the day. I was very firm with my ninja. I told her that she was not allowed to open my door for any reason whatsoever or I would be mad. I reiterated to her that Daddy and her sister were extremely qualified to administer food, control her brother, adorn Barbies and clean poop. All seemed well at first.
I was drifting into la-la land nestled comfortably in my fluffy comforter and plethora of pillows. My mind detached itself from peanut butter sandwiches, laundry, paying bills and wandered into the realm of imagination. I was on the set of a movie that was based on my latest novel. Leonardo DiCaprio was involved. I was exhilarated. From the recesses of backstage I vaguely heard the Antinapping Ninja creep up to my door, but not open it.
I continued into the blissful spiral of sleep. I succumbed. Then I was rudely awakened by wails of utter despair. My daughter was outside my door, face in the carpet sobbing.
“I want my Mommy!”
My whole body tensed as I waited to see if she would just get over it and go away. She did not. I opened the door and let my little ninja enter the room. I said that she could go play or take a nap with me. To my surprise, she snuggled in with me and fell asleep almost instantly.
I was wide-awake.
So it goes. Another nap thwarted.