Funny scene in the house today. Caragh was downstairs visiting her mother (she had a stroke a couple of years back and is paralysed except her right arm and her jaw which never stops moving…I’ll probably hear about this comment, but what the hell…) and I was taking care of the twins in the living-room. Annalie was on her play-mat and I was holding Story when for whatever reason they both went into total meltdown. Screaming, flailing, wailing, tears flowing, the whole bit.
I’m trying to soothe Story and stop her from freaking out and Annalie is screaming like someone is stabbing her with a spoon. I am trying to warm some milk up in the microwave and watching the longest 25 seconds of my life tick by as the twins continue their scream fest.
I’m feeling frustrated (read as supremely pissed off) and wondering where fuck Caragh is when I really need her to help me, after all, what the hell am I supposed to do when both are screaming like maniacs?
She comes back upstairs (remember that show, King of Queens? Doug and Carrie? that show is based on my life and my house). I am just fuming at having been deserted in my time of need. And then Caragh has the nerve to snap at ME!
“Why aren’t you helping Annalie?”
My response is mean and to the point, “How the fuck am I supposed to help her when I am trying to stop this one from blowing up?!”
And Caragh, never one to miss an opportunity to prove a point smiles divinely and says, “And how do you think I do it all day when you are at work?”
At which point my respect for her grows even more, I melt inside a little, ask for a hug and understand her life just a little better. She really is an amazing mother to our twins.