Today is day four of my 2 year old daughter's nap strike. I've fulfilled 6 "cold, COLD water" requests, four wails from finding a "mama hair" on her pillow, and several whimpers for more string cheese from her bed. A twicth that appeared under my left eye last night has migrated to my right. My mother says she may just be ready to "end her naps." Yeah? But what if I'M not?? I finally went into her room this afternoon, reduced to shouting this was the LAST time I was coming in with a nap-time snack, when she looked at me, put her finger to her lips and said, "Shhhh, Mama. I'm trying to sleep."
Apologies for being incommunicado this week and hope none of you out there are too distraught not to be receiving the usual almost-daily MotV missives. The reason for the silence is that I'm up to my neck, metaphorically-speaking, in research papers for my first grad course assessment. This experience has made me realise how rigorously un-academic I am in my thinking. It has also illuminated how reliant I am on red wine in order to get through endless evenings typing furiously on my laptop, not to mention the fueling of increasingly colorful curses that I feel obliged to aim at the University's online library system which consistently refuses to spit out any of the journals I'm desperate for (I refuse to believe this is 100% due to my technical incompetence...) Oh well, if this is the price one has to pay in order to realize a long-cherished dream then it's not all that bad... No one ever said a mid-life career change would be easy. Wish me luck!
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