Napping: What do men know that we don't?

I love naps.  It is vexxing to me that, in my lifetime, I have not perfected the art of the nap.  It eludes me like the Holy Grail has eluded treasure hunters for centuries.  I dream about the perfect nap that finds me waking refreshed and without a care in the world.  Of course I've had a few good naps in my life -- but I can never remember how to get there again.  My women friends have expressed the same frustration:  How did I do that again?  Therefore, I turned to researching the species that can outnap a woman -- men.

I'm not including cats because I'm not certain they are actually napping or just laying there with their eyes closed plotting world domination.  Scientists will tell you they're napping -- but they also do not believe that animals are capable of thinking or emotion.  Any Crazy Cat Lady would tell you that is not true and have more than ten examples of things her cats have done to prove otherwise.

I digress.  Back to my 'research'...



I've watched Mr. Man take a nap sitting straight up.  A more fascinating nap happened with his head on the arm of the couch, arms crossed over his chest, one leg extended on the couch, and the other foot on the floor.  I stood and watched that one for a good two minutes wondering how he could possibly sleep in that position.  I gave up trying to figure it out and just accepted the awe of his not requiring a blankie and a soft pillow.

Little Bubby can be squirming and giggling -- put a bottle in his kisser and BOOM.  Out for the count, one arm extended over his head and still as a rock.  I've actually considered putting a mirror up to his nose.  I've also considered buying some baby formula to see if it would bring the same euphoric afternoon retreat.

Bubby's Afternoon Nap

My father has to be the champion napper of all time.  My sister and I will always exchange weary looks when visiting him because he will announce, "I am going to take a nap."   This announcement usually follows a heavy afternoon meal and we are also in the mood for such a reprieve.  The challenge, however, is being able to fall asleep before our father has sprung from his bed and berates us with his baritone, "What are you two going to do?  Sleep the day away?"

CBH and I have stood in the doorway of our parents' bedroom watching his technique.  It starts with five minutes of reading something like National Geographic or Field and Stream (which just could be boring enough to put me to sleep).  He then puts the magazine to the side, stretches out on his back, folds his hands over his chest, and immediately checks out.  Like Bubby, a mirror under the nose is sometimes necessary to allay any fears that he has passed on to the next world.  Within twenty minutes, he springs up and is ready for afternoon tea.

We have asked him his secret.  We gave that up because he looks at us like we're the Village Idiots, "What are you talking about?  You lay down and close your eyes.  Nothing special to taking a nap."  Really?

And here we are at the end.  No conclusions.  No epiphanies.  Just unadulterated jealousy for whatever enzyme exists in the male brain that allows them completely guilt free respites of napping.

Anything you have to offer, dear readers, is more than welcome.