It starts with a mid-week outing with girlfriends to a local wine bar for a sparkling wine tasting. Okay, what is the next day going to look like for this stay-at-home mom so that she can take a nap in the afternoon? Pool … yes.
The sun and two full hours of pool play should be enough to drain their batteries. We even eat lunch at the pool so I don’t have to clean the kitchen. On the drive home, three sets of eyelids looking heavy in my rear-view mirror. So far, so good. I have set myself up beautifully.
We get home, and I top off the baby’s tummy with another 8 ounces of milk. He’s got his lovey, his fan, and his darkening curtains. He goes down without a peep. The 4-year-olds are weary and don’t fight me when I send them to quiet time. I tell them I will get them after an hour and to stay in their rooms until I come in. No doubt in my mind they will sleep today. Done.
I clear off the three loads of unfolded laundry from the top of my bed. It can wait … again … probably until we wear all of those clothes. My sheets on my unmade bed are cool. The air conditioning is on a comfortable 74 degrees. My pillow is fluffed and ready to welcome my chlorine and sunscreen-soaked head. The ceiling fan is on low. My cell phone is off. Hello, nap. How I have longed for you.
It only took about 20 minutes and some meditation and deep breaths to get rid of the anxiety of what I SHOULD be doing before I settled into sleep deep enough to drag some bodily fluids down the side of my face. Why do I drool when I nap? Does anyone else do this? Only during a nap … not at night. Weird. Anyway, I’m pretty sure I even started to dream, when …
“Mama … Mama … Mama,” like the beeping of the most annoying alarm clock.
“Maybe if I ignore him he will go back to sleep. It’s only been 30 minutes, for God’s sake!” I think.
“Mama … Mama … Mama.” Then, a couple minutes later, “Dada … Dada … Dada.” Then out of utter desperation, “Puh Puh … Puh Puh … Puh Puh (Capri).” Then a couple minutes later, “Wuh buh … Wuh buh … Wuh buh (Weber).”
There’s still a chance, right?
“Guh guh (Gracie, the dog)!”
Damn, you, Murphy’s Law!!!
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