The Starting Block
I wipe the corners of my mouth. My half cup of minestrone soup and a half slice of whole wheat bread are but a delicious memory now. Thank you, the fifth decade of my life, for letting me know that portion-control is a thing.
I have come to that soft, quiet, pause after lunch. The kids are still doing homework. Stacey is reading with her “Come any closer and I’ll punch” Hulk sign up. The sun warms even the floorboards. No thoughts of chugging Diet Cokes or “what should I be doing now?” invade my brain. No, there are more important games afoot…
Sitting at the kitchen table, I can feel it coming. I let it completely envelop me. My body relaxes, agrees. Yes, it’s
Naptime.
Why naptime? In 20 minutes, my whole day buds anew like the world after a gentle spring rain. 2 pm and no caffeine required? Behold the power of a nap.
I stand up from the table, yawn, and stretch.
Me: Anyone want to take a nap?
My sweetness bolts from her daytime hideout, jump pushes off my leg, does a perfect pirouette in the air. All while squealing in delight. But, a mere two and a half years ago, there would have been no way I would let anyone interfere with it. Especially a dog. Behold the power of the sweetness.
My bedroom welcomes us like a library in the afternoon. The warm late-winter sunlight streams onto my nap covers. A garage-sale-charlie-brown throw plus a heated blanket on low heat are ready for us on top of my quilt.
I lean down and, as if trained, Olive rears on her hind legs and stands up, front paws reaching for me. I pick her up, and we settle in under the covers. She curls up on my stomach. We are like two sleepy peas in a pod.
I turn on my background noise from my meditation app: the patter of gentle rain on green leaves. The last step before unconsciousness: my satin eye mask. As I start to fall asleep to the pitter-patter of rain, Olive stands up, jumps off my stomach, and hops on the floor.
Me: Ooph! Olive! What the shell, dude?
I look down. Olive is facing the door with her ears cutie-patootie style – as if she’s begging for treats. Listening closer, I hear Stacey, my wife, getting dinner ready.
Me (exasperated sigh): Fine, if you want food instead, you’re outta here.
I drag my heavy limbs out of bed, and put Olive out, making sure to click the door shut.
I will nap better with my stuffed Christmas moose anyway!
In less than a minute, I am back to sleep, with my stuffed moose tucked under my arm.
The Battle for the Afternoon Begins
Scrape. Scrape.
Scrape. Scrape.
Scrape. Scrape.
I move no muscles but yell
Me: Go away, Olive!
Quiet. Success!
30 seconds later: Scrape. Scrape. THUNK.
Don’t do it Heidi; don’t do it. It will only encourage her. But she is so cuddly…
I throw my mask up, my eyes are immediately accosted by the sunlight. Bleary-eyed, I drag myself to the door and let her in. This time, she flanks my left side; my left arm around her body. Mmmm… warmness. And I don’t care that her paws are all pushing off my side; I’m too tired. Right back to sleep.
Some time later: Scrrrrrrrrrape. Scrrrrrrrrape.
From the other room: Elvis! Bad Boy!
He’s never done that… Back to sleep…
A few minutes later: Pound! The door swings wide open. Was that a Gun? Where is my baseball bat? I sit up and throw off my mask, my eyes hurt by the sun. I look, my baseball bat (i.e. our home security system) has fallen behind the bed. My head whips around.
Over the rain, I hear steps. Dog steps. …on the opposite side of the bed doing 1, 2 test jumps. Then, BOOM! He’s on the bed. As if directing a plane landing, I sweep his butt off the bed and yell
Me: ELVIS! Get outta here!
In one glorious deer-leap, Elvis is off the bed and out of the room. At least he’s graceful when he’s an asshole. My hand goes down to pick up and snuggle at least one decent dog. Not this time. She must’ve snuck out during the ruckus.
The Flat End
I look at my phone: I have been trying to sleep for over half an hour. I give up. My heavy arms wrap my Charlie-Brown blanket around me kimono-style. I slide on my holey green slippers and scuff to the fridge. I swear I left half a Diet Coke in here yesterday.
With my flat soda, I turn and see Stacey on the living room couch looking at me. On either side of her is a pair of shaking ears and eyes.
Stacey (to the dogs): Looks like you guys are in troubbbbbble!
Me: I would like that to never happen again.
Stacey (shaking her head): Good luck. But can you do?
I take a chug and put down my Diet Coke. I look straight at the dogs:
Me: If you see a broom, a vacuum, a line of oranges, and some aluminum foil next to my door, it means GO AWAY! My naptime door is going to become your worst nightmare.
I take another chug of my soda in triumph; Stacey laughs.
POEM: BEACHY
A soft, salty breeze cools the sweat on your skin as you lay deliciously compliant to the sea's swaying pulse. As if a socket wrench turns your eardrums, Bon Jovi ratchets, you cover your ears; new beachgoers on the next blanket. Over the outdated concert, "Moooooom!" and sand kicked in your face; sibs not playing fair. A public beach at the peak of summer and the sea's swaying pulse, What did you expect?
The SoulJourner Question: Serenity
Dogs, children, work, neighbors, wi-fi strength, weather, medical diagnoses, and even self-awareness that you’re gay… Life gives us an ever-present flood of changing scenery. These are things that can make you crazy. They made me codependent, angry, depressed, you name it.
Sanity Prompt: The next time you get pissed/annoyed/overly concerned about something OR someone…
- Find a quiet place to sit. Take a couple of deep breaths.
- Repeat The Serenity Prayer. Yes, it’s a 12-step thing, AND a life thing, too! Here is it: God (or whatever Higher Power you believe in), grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.
- Ask yourself “What CAN I control here?” (HINT: it’s only you) or HAVE KIDS? This is a really good reminder of what they can control in the pandemic.
- Review what made you angry/sad/disappointed. Release any expectations that you have that are out of your control. OR, create an action plan about things you can control to help yourself feel better.
