Both children are asleep in the middle of the afternoon, and we're at home (not in the car). I'm about to take advantage of the coveted afternoon nap.
The first wave of near sleep washes over me. Second wave. I know I'm almost there.
I hear a whisper, "Mommy."
I look up. Nothing. Judah is asleep upstairs. I love the sound of his little voice in my head.
I start to drift off again.
I hear what sounds like audiotapes being moved around.
I look up. Nothing.
The bathroom door slams shut. Upon getting up to open it (and prop it open) I discover the clinking sound--it's the shower curtain being blown back on the rod.
My mommy radar is turned up pretty high, so I get a surge of adrenaline each time I'm awakened.
Finally, the adrenaline has faded.
The sounds are different downstairs. Gusts of wind enhance the unfamiliar noises.
I finally begin to drift off for the third time. Something shatters.
I investigate. My glasses fell from the windowsill in the bathroom onto the scale. Nothing is broken--except my sleep.
A nap is not on the mommy menu for today.
2 comments:
Oh the mommy sleep that is snatched from under your nose is the worst. That jolt from gentle dreams to flight or flight is the meanest.
I love this post. I love naps. I love taco salad. I love that your husband cooks more than you do (mine prefers take out). How fun to connect with you in the blog world. Thanks for accidentally sending Jared's email to me.
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