Not, ‘Gee, I’ve got an hour before such-and-so, maybe I could lay down and rest for a bit’ nap. I’m talking, ‘Only 30 feet until I can park the car. Thirty more to the door.’ Your body begins to redistribute energy to guaranteethat there’s enough to make the trip to the bedroom. Your eyelids, which have fought the valiant battle since an hour or so after you woke up, slap shut before even hitting the pillow. It’s 1pm - a mere 7 hours after waking. Flesh, bone and muscle cartoonishly take on the shape of the egg-crate mattress topper and a moan escapes your lips before you even think it and you wonder what your teenage kids might think. Oops.
Sleep comes almost instantly. Four hours pass before the youngest comes home from school and wakes you with a . “Mommy, are you rested?”
God - you could sleep until morning…you just know it, but you make yourself get out of bed and you make yourself move into the kitchen, move through the motions of family life, looking forward to bedtime like a young child looks forward to Chrsitmas.
I would try to fight the nap today, but I have a dessert drama at church to attend (that I paid money for) - and there’s some intense talent involved…but I will definitely try to resist tomorrow as I know, from a collective 66 years of parenting, that sleep begets sleep. I need OUT of this. I can feel myself turning into play-doh.
Tell me your stories because although I know, from all the literature, that I’m not alone, I want to hear YOU say it. 