It’s a madhouse around here during the day, to say the least. A bright spot has emerged, however, and that’s Abby’s late afternoon nap. Not for the obvious reasons, either. Although I’m definitely ready for a break by then. And vodka. Lots and lots of vodka.
More often than not for a few weeks now, she’ll awake long before naptime is officially over. Her eyes still groggy and cheeks puffed red with sleep. I’ll lay her on my shoulder, where she’ll instantly collapse, and let her slumber for as long as possible while I struggle to stay alert. Her hand grasping onto my shirt, her whisps of hair tickling my nose. During this time, I try to forget all of the need-to-do’s, should-do’s, and please-don’t-do’s. No appointments to set, dishes to wash, or butts to wipe. It’s just me and her, cuddled together on the couch.
Of course, the boys usually have a thing or two to loudly say about this. I guess whispering is a skill learned at a later stage in life. Especially Buzz, with his high-pitched shriek of a wake-up call. He tends to be our regular nosedive back to Earth. Abby’s head will raise, slightly sweaty, skin adorned in fabric wrinkles. She’ll look at me, glance around, and flash her trademark four tooth grin. After this, the day doesn’t seem so mad anymore. It’s downright pleasant, actually. If only for a moment.