The Afternoon Nap

As they are so apt to do, great ideas come to me totally at random and on the fly. Today was no exception. In the midst of another activity rich Saturday this one came on like Jimmy Cobb's splash on the cymbals that really kicks off Miles Davis' classic So What . Up to that point I was just being the methodical task master that I usually am with my Super Dad cape cinched up tight on these Saturdays. Make breakfast. Go to the first basketball game. Go to the basketball clinic/practice/game at location number 2. Grab a bite to eat. Go to the second basketball game at location number 3. Start to formulate a plan for cooking dinner.

Nowhere on this to-do list was "catch up on that sleep that you failed to get during your travels this week". But as Jimmy Cobb hit that cymbal and Miles started his trumpet solo, the rhythm of Paul Chambers bass coupled with the smug grin that he must've had while playing this (c'mon...its too damned cool for him not to have a smug look on his face while he's pluckin' those strings) guided me to successful execution of the plan.

My kids have a routine each time we get back to my house. One of them heads to the refrigerator (usually a fruitless endeavor, leaving them staring from top to bottom at the back of the refrigerator, and then bottom to top and then, "hey dad...what can we have for a snack?") and the other heads for the remote control to watch the same episode of The Suite Life of Zack and Cody that they've already seen 6 times this week. At precisely this moment, I sprung into action, flipping off the TV and digging out a couple grab size bags of Sun Chips from the cupboard for them to munch on. It should be noted that I actually set the wheels in motion for this plan last night,grabbing a couple books from their rooms, without realizing when I would use them or how effective this might be.

Opening the blinds in the living room to allow the sunlight from this gorgeous February Afternoon (not just any February Afternoon, but a "this is why we live in California" February Afternoon) to light up the room, I handed a book to each of them and told them to sit and read. I promised them that we would watch the latest kid-friendly DVD that Netflix had delivered to my mailbox later in the evening.

I must admit that even I was surprised at how well this worked. I was met with almost no resistance as my daughter snuggled into my favorite chair with something called "Al Capone does my shirts" while my son laid out on the couch with a book that looked like it contained every single Calvin and Hobbes comic strip ever created. It was like deja vu all over again as I recalled tip toeing out of their rooms after putting them in their cribs after giving them a bottle, and hoping they'd fall asleep. I crept into my bedroom and pushed the door closed, not all the way, slightly cracked, just enough to keep the light out and just open enough so that they didn't feel like I had actually segregated myself from them.

I kicked off my shoes and sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, and then let my torso start to fall slowly toward the mattress as my legs simultaneously extended and my sweat sock covered feet now dangled over the edge. Slow motion would be an apt description. My head sunk into the pillow like the Titanic into the Atlantic, taking what seemed like an eternity to settle in at the bottom. My eyelids, weighed down with fatigue like the remains of Vincent Pastore being dumped off the deck of the Stagots II with cement slippers, came crashing down. I could hear my heart beating in my left ear as it pressed against the pillow, my head now leaning toward my left shoulder as I lie on my back. I became acutely aware of the sounds from outside growing more and more faint while the sound of air filling my lungs with each deep breath consumed my attention. Remember in the old King Kong movie with Jeff Bridges and Jessica Lange when Kong is dying and they turn up the THX (well, it probably wasn't THX back in 1976..maybe just Dolby) playing only his heartbeat as his eyes panned around the room very slowly (or for you hip-hoppers, the final moments of Mr. Christopher Wallace on the Ready to Die album)? Well, that was me.

Remarkably, nobody rang my phone. My kids didn't succumb to their short attention spans. The firemen at Firestation No. 1 across the street were not called into action. I had to set my alarm so that I could get up and get dinner started, but it was a nice little power nap. I surely could've slept until tomorrow otherwise. I felt like I had been run over by a truck when said alarm did go off, but I was able to quickly whip myself into shape and get back to my 'sponsibilities.