While texting with my daughter today, I sent one that said "...time for a nap for me." And she replied "I''m going to take one too."
And I thought "how neat that the W girls are napping together...only 400 miles apart."
Then the memory came.
My kids napped at home until the first day of kindergarten. There is a reason kindergartners have rest time....Five -year-olds need naps.
And so do the mothers of five-year-olds. At least at our house, that was the case.
After Blake started school, there were a couple of years during which it was just us girls at home between the hours of eight and three.
And the napping hour was a magical one.
Not because my preschooler was asleep and quiet, but because we napped together.
Each day at 12:30, we would gather up a book or two...or three or six...and head to my bed. We'd prop ourselves up on lots of pillows and pull a blanket over us. And we'd lie there and read.
Until my girl's eyes couldn't stay open any longer, we'd read one story after another.
And when she finally gave into sleep, I'd quietly set the books aside and fold myself around her. And I'd sleep.
I trained myself to sleep for one hour. It's amazing what mothers can do with their internal clocks. Every day, I'd wake up right at an hour after Kayla fell asleep.
After that hour, I'd ease myself out of the bed and tip toe into the kitchen to make an after school snack for her and her big brother, and to start supper.
About an hour after I'd wake up, my girl would come into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes and clutching her blanket. You all know how wonderfully irresistible a sleepy preschooler is, right? Well, because she was so irresistible, I'd always stop my work and gather her into my lap in one of the blue chairs. And she'd curl into me and sip on some juice while she gradually woke up. And always, every day, I'd put my lips on her forehead and kiss her.
And then I'd whisper "I think some monkeys made a nest in your hair while you were asleep." And she'd giggle very very softly.
And then the energy returned and she'd unfold herself from my lap and go on about the business of a three-or-four-year-old.
And I'd hear the school bus and go to the door to greet her brother and talk about his day, which was usually a very brief conversation because he was not one for details.
And then evening at the W house would continue.
And so would the sweetest of memories.