Don't sleep on the exquisite pleasures of napping | Just Jaggin' | Pittsburgh | Pittsburgh City Paper

Don't sleep on the exquisite pleasures of napping

click to enlarge Just Nappin’ - CP PHOTO: ABBIE ADAMS
CP photo: Abbie Adams
Just Nappin’

My son recently finished pre-kindergarten where he has spent every work week for almost his entire life. While we are very proud of his stick-to-itiveness (not that he had much of choice in the matter), I have reason to believe he didn’t make the most of his time there. A couple of days before his final trip to school, he bragged to me “Nah nah, nah nah nah, I don’t have to take naps anymore!”

Marty doesn’t realize how good he had it, and that worries me. Napping is basically built into my side of the family’s genes. My mother actually wore out a spot on her couch where her napping head — sometimes a bit sweaty, sometimes not, always satisfied — spent many pleasurable weekend afternoons recovering from a tough morning of drinking coffee, smoking a handful of Merits and watching TV. Pops lulled himself to sleep with golf on TV in a La-Z-Boy that had been repaired so many times it had its own CARFAX report.  

Maybe Marty will inherit his mother’s fervor for being awake the entire day, because if he decides he wants to carry on my good name and embrace the napping lifestyle, he is bound to face some challenges. There will be naysayers. For the sake of my argument, let’s call my naysayer “Emily.” She gave me business for napping before we were married with kids and continues to this day. I expect her to frown upon this predisposition until my last bowl of tapioca and final round of bingo. That’s just good marriage-ing.      

Through the years, I’ve pretty much broken her will to object with my dogged persistence, so I’ve earned Saturday and Sunday naps. But sometimes, if the situation is a little dicey, if the kids are misbehaving, I’ll have to go upstairs unannounced, pretending to just be going to the bathroom. Next they’ll hear of me, I’m drooling on pillows and flailing around with my signature restless leg syndrome.

I just hope if Marty is going to be a napper that he finds out sooner rather than later, so I can impart the wisdom I have gained through years of covert operations. While at work, your car can function as a rolling campsite. Just make sure you move it to another company’s parking lot or a local state park to avoid lookie-loos. Tired at a family gathering? This is Pittsburgh, there is always a basement. If you are spotted en route, tell them you are using the downstairs bathroom. No one wants to engage in that conversation. And, finally, always remember: If you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything.  

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