These past 4 or so days have been particularly tough ones. I've been overly
Let's take, for instance, giving the baby medicine. Mr Incredible suggested I should because she was feverish and cranky. You would've thought that he asked me to lug the tv from the basement and hook it up to the computer from the DVI to the HDMI cable. I moaned and groaned so afraid that for SOME reason me giving her medicine was going to work out. "Why don't YOU do it? It's your first day off in 6 weeks and all YOU'RE doing is sitting watching football." And when he replied, "sweetie, I just went out and bought the medicine, and actually I'm working on my homework" all I heard was "oh, baby, it's just the Opt-World HDMI cable you'll have to use to hook it up. You can do it!"
So I pulled myself up by my boot straps, and I did it. I gave the baby Tylenol. And it spilled all down the front of her, on the floor, on my Dry Clean Only sweater. I lost it. I threw the teaspoon and exclaimed that it was HIS fault, damnit. Why did he buy the RED STUFF????? MY Baby only likes the PINK STUFF!!! He calmly replied, "well, next time we'll have to use the dropper." In other words, the HDMI switcher, ya know. I started having a mild anxiety attack. And then baby fell asleep. And once again, I realized it was all alright. Everything's okay. It always is. But the prospect of what COULD happen is always looming. Always in front of my face. It's the Irish in me.