Distractable

Yesterday, after several days (weeks?) of frustration and irritation about trying to find a place to do the study for my PhD so that maybe, just maybe, I could finish the stupid thing some time before I die of old age, I got a phone call from a very nice principal to whom I had sent a letter letting me know the name and number of the person I needed to talk to. I was grateful. I am grateful. But honestly...how many people (Teachers even! Teachers who probably knew the answer! Teachers who are friends who probably knew the answer! Teachers who are friends who know how despondent I've been about this degree because of the seemingly brick wall of no information who probably knew the answer!) have I asked about this and no one could bother to even let me know the name of the department to talk to at least? I figure this very nice principal (that is her name, The Very Nice Principal, let it go down in history as such) clued me in because she's an Ed.D., so she's been where I am right now. Note to self: remember how this feels and be kind to those in similar situations.

Anyway, so I called up the Very Nice Approval Lady and she was very nice and sent me information by email and now I actually have something productive that I can and should be doing. And I have the document open. And I've written a cover letter. And there ended my motivation. Why? I think, honestly, because I've been so frustrated that I'm out of the habit of thinking that something might actually come from this effort. Which of course will be true if I don't at least make the effort.

Realistically I think that I'm so distracted because I'm tired. Tired that verges on exhausted. Why? Because they don't make overnight diapers in anything under a size 4. Bear with me here. See, the little one likes to eat. And the majority of his eating is, at this point, still liquid. Liquid eating results in liquid elimination. Little boy liquid elimination fills up the front of a diaper. Fills it to capacity and then some yet it never actually trickles to the back of the diaper. Especially since the little one in question will now sleep only on his belly. So said liquid elimination goes up the front of the diaper and then out. And if you found yourself sleeping in a pool of pee at 2:30 in the morning, I suspect you'd be crying too.

You may, at this point, be saying to yourself, "So change him and go back to sleep." There is only one critical flaw to that otherwise logical argument. Consider for a moment if you awakened in a pool of pee and were crying and then someone took a cold wipe and swiped it across all your sensitive bits that are covered by the diaper. Would you be sleepy or awake after this? Right. Add to that the fact that if said pool of pee has actually escaped the diaper (rather than just made it down right uncomfortable) you have to watch as mommy changes your sheet and then be changed into a new pair of jammies. Well. None of that really bodes well for sleeping.

Even if the little one in question goes back to sleep easily (which, honestly, most nights he does) after that much activity...I'm awake. Then follows roughly two hours of laying in bed fighting irritation on two fronts: the first being that I'm awake and not falling back asleep, the second being that Tim is not awake and is, in fact, happily snoring away despite any poking or prodding to end said melodious outpouring. Mounting irritation is not the state of mind most conducive to getting back to sleep. Usually I manage to drift off just before Tim's alarm.

And this? This creates exhaustion. Yesterday said exhaustion resulted in a migraine and severe grumpiness. Today it seems to be lack of focus.

All that to say, if I don't get my degree I'm laying the fault squarely on the shoulders of the diaper companies.