Do Not Disturb

 

When Mom needs a nap

“Can’t you tell I’m annoyed with all of you? My eyebrows are all pointy.”

 

I just wanted to take a nap.

After a freezing cold early morning soccer game, allergies that are kicking my butt, and not a lot of sleep the night before, didn’t I deserve it? Yes. Yes I did. The children were occupied with neighborhood friends, so I closed my bedroom door, and crawled into bed, pulling the covers up tight around my ears. Blessed silence. I sighed in contentment.

Within two minutes:

Scrtch scccrrrtch.

The dog apparently felt it was unacceptable that the door was closed and he was on the other side of it.

With resignation, I got up to let him in. I then closed the door again, while he jumped up on the bed and made himself comfortable. If he could talk, he would have said, “Hey, a nap! I love naps! And so it is a good thing you let me in because now I can protect you while you nap!”

Fine. Whatever. I snuggled back under the blankets. Ah. Peace and quiet.

Then suddenly came a knock at the bedroom door. My dog flew off the bed in a frenzy of barking, determined to fell the intruder that was certainly there to do me harm.

It was Lucy. She  inched the door open a crack and stuck part of her face through.

“Mom?” she whispered.

“What?” I said as patiently as I could.

“I was gonna go on a bike ride but Dad said I had to ask you first.”

Okay, seriously? This required my input?

I answered her.  “Fine with me. Make sure you wear your bike helmet.”

“Thanks Mom. Love you!” She backed out and closed the door, but not before the dog snuck back out through the partly open door and ran downstairs.

I lay back down and closed my eyes. Within minutes, I again heard the telltale scrttch scccrrrtttchhh letting me know the dog was back upstairs and wanted to be let in again.

I sighed, and got up to let him in. “I never disturb your naps do I?” I grumbled. He thumped his tail and settled in at the end of the bed once again.

Then? The doorbell rang.

At which time the dog lost his mind. Again. He was now barking like Cujo on speed and trying to claw his way out, so I got up to let him out the door.  And he ran downstairs to protect us from whatever it was that now threatened our well-being.

This nap thing was not working. Now, before you ask me why I just didn’t keep the door open, I’ll tell you that our house is a beehive of activity. Our kids and kids from the neighborhood are in and out constantly. If there was a sped up movie of all of the comings and goings it would  be accompanied by Yakety Sax.  What I’m saying is our house is loud, and not conducive to napping with the door open. But our dog? Is not conducive to napping with the door closed. A closed door is the bane of his existence. (There is not one door or doorframe that isn’t scratched all to hell. It looks like the woodwork in our house was installed by Edward Scissorhands.)

But I had an idea. With the dog downstairs on Super High Alert Intruder Patrol, I quickly grabbed my pillow and snuck down the hallway to Magpie’s room. Her room at the end of the hall is clean, and quiet – Yes, her comfy double bed would do just fine. And the dog wouldn’t think to look for me in there, I was positive.

Gleefully I settled into the cozy flannel sheets. Bliss. Peace. I began to relax, anticipating at least an hour of delightful slumber.

Five minutes. Ten minutes. No dog. I was beginning to think this was going to work. Victory would be mine. Then? I heard the click of a turning doorknob.

In a flash I bolted upright and yelled, “What is going on?!” just as Lucy stepped into the room and the dog pushed past her.

Lucy jumped. “OMG, you scared the crap out of me!* I didn’t know you were in here!”

*Please note I am working on getting her to speak in a more ladylike manner. We’re starting with not using  the word “crap” quite so much. Baby steps.

“What. Are. You. Doing?” I said with clenched teeth. “You said you were going for a bike ride. Why haven’t you left yet?

“I just needed my grey sweatshirt. I think it’s in here,” she said, as the dog jumped up on the bed and curled up beside me, satisfied to have found me once again. I collapsed back onto the pillow in defeat as two more children thundered up the stairs. “Hi Mom! What’re you doing in here? Trying to take a nap? Can I bake cookies? Dad said to ask you.”  When the next child chimed in with, “Mom, she hit me!” I saw the last shred of hope I had for a nap disappear.

I stomped downstairs and into the kitchen. I’m not sure, but there might have been one of those cartoon black clouds hovering somewhere over my head.

“How was your nap?” VP said in a cheery tone.

I glared at him and he wisely backed out of the room.

But I haven’t yet given up on my quest for a good nap. In related news, if you drive my my house in the near future and see a tent in the backyard, I may be inside slumbering peacefully. Just don’t tell the dog where I am.