In an unprecedented move, I took a nap this afternoon.
Both children were awake. I think they were eating potato chips. I know they were watching TV (Lily knows how to work the TiVo remote; which is a blessing and a curse). The dog was attempting to eat something out of the recycling bin.
And I was feeling bone tired.
Before you ask if I am ill or depressed: I am neither. I was just tired. We ran for 48 hours straight this weekend from charity walks to soccer games to gardening to barbecuing to church to lunch or beaching to dinner. It was a weekend filled with joy and empty of sleep.
By 4 p.m. Monday, my energy was gone. Gone. I thought about coffee or a few hours of vigorous sun salutations. I thought about standing outside in the rain. But, what I wanted was my pillow.
So I snuck away into my bedroom and slept. For 40 delicious minutes. I did not tell my children I was resting. I did not even shut the door. I just laid there, on top of my covers and some laundry that had been dumped on the bed and slept like a homeless person.
It was delightful.
When I woke up, the house as still standing. Lily had eaten an entire bag of potato chips and Henry, the dog had consumed half a tin can and Chloe, well, she was naked and holding a bag of potato chips.
And I was happy.
So, go. Nap. I dare you. Don't tell anyone. Don't plan it. Just do it.