One of the many pleasures of being a ‘stay at home Nonni’ is that I get to nap when Ellie does.
I have always loved naps. Always.
My dad was a wonderful napper. He could close his eyes and sleep for 15 minutes and wake up completely refreshed.
I get this talent from him.
When Ellie was very small, we used to nap together in the recliner. I’d hold her in my arms and we’d both drift off.
Now she’s too big for that to be safe, so now we lie down together on my bed. She goes to sleep, and I read or write. Sometimes (OK, pretty much every day) I fall asleep , too.
Today was one of those challenging days, when you’re not sure you can make it all work. It was snowing hard when the puppy woke me up at 6. I stayed awake checking the school closings. Would Kate have to drive to school? Would she be able to go in late?
I finally realized that her school schedule was unchanged, which meant that mine was, too. I made the coffee and headed out into the icy snow/rain mix to get my granddaughter.
It was a long, slow, slog to her house and back, a round trip of about 10 miles. At least we turned into our driveway, and I gave the old Colonial America cheer, “Huzzah!” To my joy and pleasure, Ellie yelled it right back at me.
The day was fine, but by the time I saw Ellie rubbing her eyes at about 2 o’clock, I was ready and willing to rest. I had already cooked, served and cleaned up both breakfast and lunch. I had wrestled Lennie for possession of 4 boots, 6 socks, a mitten, 43 toys and one winter coat.
I was more than ready to bring Ellie into my bedroom for a nice nap. The problem was that Lennie was NOT in nap mode.
He was running in circles around us, grabbing at the blankets, my book, the pillow…..
I tried offering a treat. “Good boy, Lennie, good dog. Lie down!” No good.
I tried putting down a nice warm blanket. “Lennie, time to rest!” No good at all; he tried to eat it.
Finally, I had had it. Ellie was whining, wanting a book. My back was aching. It was snowing outside and I wanted to LIE THE HELL DOWN.
So I turned to the puppy and snarled, “LIE THE HELL DOWN!”
To my shock, he did.
Ellie and I settled in, read “Good night Moon” and she fell asleep. I wrote an article for LiberalAmerica, and then I went to sleep, too.
And when I woke up, Ellie was still snoozing, her soft curly hair moving with her gentle breaths.
I looked over the side of the bed.
There was my baby Lennie, curled into the shape of a snail. And right beside him, curled up in the exact same shape, only three times larger, was my old dog, Tucker. Side by side on one doggie bed.
I lay back down, listening to the combined sounds of two sleeping dogs and one sleeping baby girl.
Life can be so unexpectedly perfect, you know?