The art of the nap

Our house is noisy and crowded. The downstairs is one big room, kitchen and living area combined, and it's filled with musical instruments. From where I am sitting in the comfy chair, I can see Boy in Black and Skater Boy at the counter, pouring themselves bowls of cereal. With-a-Why is at the piano, Older Neighbor Boy is doing something to his guitar, and Beautiful Smart Wonderful Daughter has her laptop out. Always in our house, someone is eating, and someone playing music. They are the two things that can be counted on.

Amidst the music and chatter, you can often find at least one person taking a nap. Boy in Black will fall asleep right on the floor, so that anyone walking in the room has to step over his long body. The comfy couch, with its cushions always yanked out of place and pillows strewn about, will often hold more than one sleeping body. Shaggy Hair Boy, especially, can usually be found stretched out on the couch in a deep sleep, oblivious to the jazz flowing from the hands of his little brother or the clinking of dishes over in the kitchen area.

The ability to sleep anywhere, anytime, is an art, a skill to be cultivated. When I go away for the weekend with my women friends, they look on enviously when I fall asleep on a lawn or next to the lake or on the floor in a sleeping bag while CDs are playing. If I've been up late reading a book or spending time with my husband or talking to a friend, I look forward to that afternoon tiredness that means I can snuggle into the couch with a pillow and drift off into sleep. Sometimes I'll prepare for a nap with a snack, or a cup of herbal tea, or chapter from a soothing book, but just as often, I'll just throw myself down somewhere to close my eyes and dream.

That's Shaggy Hair Boy in the photo.