Black coffee

I'm drinking black coffee this morning, we're out of cream. It's really not so bad. It's pretty good coffee, but cream just adds that little bit of extra satisfaction. A bit of luxury, as it were. I was going to be doing homework right now. I have to prepare a paper on the (forgotten) women in classical sociology. I am inspired by these women. Enthralled in their lives, their theories, their practicality compared to many of their male contemporaries. Amazed at how some of what they said as far back as the 18th century still applies today. That the female experience hasn't changed so much. Of course, life is different now for women, but some of the general principles still apply. Its amazing.

But all that will have to wait since respite cancelled on me once again. And once again she has a perfectly acceptable excuse, but trying to do homework while caring for Finleigh makes me crazy. And then I get angry with her and that's not fair. If I need to close up my computer and come back to this post, not such a big deal, but delving into my school work is a different process, so I guess it will have to wait. Perhaps she'll go to bed earlier than 11:30 pm, like she did last night. Then I can play catchup then.

This post is going somewhere. Honest.

These new meds are kicking my butt. I. am. tired. So, so, so tired. But I'm feeling better. Less tense. More myself (or at least the self I'd like to be). It could have something to do with getting 8 hours of sleep two nights in a row. Which is lovely, right? Except when one wakes up to this...

I think the mascara is ruined. The toothpaste mostly came out of the carpet, but pretty sure I'll have to do another pass at that after everything dries. Luckily, the fluid in my contacts container didn't come out, so they're still okay. My eyeshadow is destroyed. Who needs makeup anyways?

This is a new skill she's acquired, getting into these things. I suppose I will have to move them again, but I'm running out of places to put them.

And while I was cleaning up that... my daughter was downstairs doing this...

Not a horrible mess, I know. But something that I will still have to clean up. She's 6 1/2. This is toddler behaviour. The toddler stage was never my favourite stage. Now I have toddlerhood on crack for what could be the rest of my life.

And that makes me tired. And leaves me wanting to retreat back into my world of the female sociologists of old. Considering their theories. Developing my own. Wondering how they balanced their families - if they had ones - with their work.

But for now, I will continue on. Enjoy the snuggles and treasure the good times, like just now when she  climbed up on my lap and told  me that she loves me in her heart. No sociological theory can make up for that.