If my life were a Seinfield episode, the Missaroo would be the soup Nazi. But it's not soup she won't let me have, it's sleep. Last night was a typical, "mommy is back in grad school" night for her. Homework all day, work all night; 2 walks, food, and then it's goodnight moon. Miss doesn't take to this very well because she wants to play, and it somehow messes up her schedule.
For instants, instead of having to go the bathroom ten minutes before the alarm goes off, now all of a sudden she has to go twice in the middle of the night. The first time she woke me up I had only been asleep for less than two hours. It took me a long time to even figure out what that noise was, where I was, and why she couldn't just go pee without me. The second time she woke up was 5am. Two and a half hours before the alarm went off and four hours after the first time she had to go. It's as if she's saying "No sleep for you." Or at least that's the irrational thought that went through my head each time I woke up in the middle of the night. She might as well have been torturing me while she was at it.
This will continue for the next several weeks as I spin closer and closer toward a nervous breakdown. I'll get to the edge and then magically find myself on winter break wondering when classes start up again. Apparently I suffer from short term memory loss. I guess not sleeping will do that to you.