Prison Time
Sunday, August 3rd, 2008

At nap time, the children come to think me the enemy – a vicious, vindictive warden that patrols the upstairs and peers in on them, dragging my billyclub across the door jam in intimidation.

I don’t actually carry a billyclub and it wouldn’t make difference if I did because they are hard-timers, familiar to my threats and not the least bit afraid of what will happen to them (generally, nothing.) They have been conditioned and toughened by sleeplessness, going without rest for years on end -for as long as … however old they are.

The oldest, Annie, is out of the house today, but she’s earned such a horrendous reputation for bypassing “quiet time,” she’s earned the nickname Annie No-Naps. She’s been sleep deprived for five-plus years and, in setting such a bad example, has come to be recognized at the leader of this no sleep band. Her younger brother, Charlie, hasn’t slept in four years. What he has managed to do is pull every toy from his closet and into his bed, making a totaly mockery of the mid-afternoon napping hours, and stuffing dirty pull-ups in the narrow space under his bureau. And Caroline, Charlie’s naughty henchman, is so bold, she will climb from her crib and run between bedrooms, back and forth from the room she and Charlie share to Annie’s, laughing and covorting, glad to be alive and inspired by the feeling of freedom in her soft feet pressing down into the beige carpet.

Earlier this afternoon, the two younger ones were left unto themsleves for quiet time. After playing outside all morning in the summer heat, and after listening to a few bedtime stories, I hit the the nature sound bar atop their alarm clock and quietly pulled the door closed behind me. Less than 10 minutes later, the entire house was shaking with huge thuds from Caroline dive-bombing from her crib into Charlie’s bed.

So I lay with them until they fell to sleep. Muted sunlight bright at the edges of the room-darkening shade. Restless turning and deep sighs turned to sleepy breathing. ZZZs – the letter they’ve learned to associate with sleep thanks to an alphabet book on the shelf across from me – the spine worn and pulling away. I blink my eyes to fight off sleep and rise cautiously from Charlie’s. One misstep could set off a toy chirpping and then the whole cycle has to begin again. Meanness is not in my spirit and it hurts me to have to feighn it to get the children to put their heads on the cool pillowcases, but I’ve gone without sleep almost as long as they have. I straightened my cap, but the bilyclub back in my holster, and stepped back into the hall to patrol the rest of the prison.

Tags: Kids