My cat is wheezing and snoring on the bed behind me. Hopefully Natalie is finally asleep, an hour since I laid her down, but with a final tearful scolding from Mommy to exhaust her. Brian came in, briefly, before changing out of his uniform, and then was out the door again to attend a men's church luncheon. The two older girls are still at school. The house is so quiet.
Well, at least for another hour until Abby breezes in and heads directly for her two favorite things, the pantry and the telephone. Then, the house will be filled with the nauseating smell of whatever late lunch she decides to cook at 3pm, and the unnecessarily loud and shrill sound of her laughter as she guffaws at something oh-so-hilarious during her telephone conversation.
Then Elysse clomps in, throws her backpack, sweatshirt and shoes directly in front of the door, so someone might more easily trip over them later. She also heads directly for the pantry, but more predictably, to grab a stack of Chips Ahoy to inhale before I can attempt to count the number of cookies concealed in her clenched fist. Then it's off to her afternoon conference with Sponge Bob. They meet daily, in their usual spot. He's animatedly living his life on tv, and she's curled in a ball on the family room couch, enthralled by his every word. Despite the fact she's seen every single episode at least 25 times, this time with SB is vital to her day.
I do relish the time before they return from school. I savor the time when Natalie is napping. I enjoy the silence.
However, I admit, sometimes the hour or so I get each weekday to pursue my own interests is more boring than anything else. Around 1:30, unless I'm knee deep in dirty laundry, or washing dishes, my eyelids start to droop. I love the quiet afternoons for reading, or surfing Etsy, or thinking of these clever blog topics (haha). But as predictable as my children's routines, my own mid-afternoon slump overtakes me, and all I want to do is crawl back into my warm bed and fall into a deep, consuming, uninterrupted sleep.
But since each afternoon is predictably punctuated by the events I listed above, you can see how that will not actually happen. I can NEVER fall into a deep sleep in the middle of the day. I'm always half listening for somebody to come through the door. I'm more awake than asleep, worried that Natalie will awaken from her nap and if I'm sleeping, she'll wander outside into the street or stick her finger in a light socket. Or if I do attempt to sleep, the phone will ring. And it won't be anybody fun. Instead, it will be Dr. Collins office reminding me of Elysse's dental appointment next Wednesday. Or a recorded message from a "Local State Representative". Or my credit card company, promising me a "great new offer"! People I don't want to talk to, who feel it necessary to talk to me, and tell me things I care nothing about.
Naps are for old people and babies, who are lucky enough to be short on wakeful nuisances and heavy on the ability to fall into a comatose sleep for hours and hours.
Sleep is something I am always thinking about, but never seem to be satisfied by. Why is that? I might go to bed early, but when that alarm rings, even the extra time in bed is not enough. I might sleep a bit late on a Saturday, but the rested feeling only lasts until midday, at which time, I'm sleepy again.
What's wrong with my tired, 36 year-old body??? I guess I won't get any satisfaction until I'm an old biddy. Napping here and there, with no regard to appropriate time or location, just snoring away. And if you see me, passed out on a bus or at the public library, you'd best just leave me alone. By that time you should know, as with any elderly napper, I'll have earned the sleep.
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