Today was the first day all week that I got my husband off to work with a packed lunch. I almost felt proud about that, but sure enough, the broken record piped up immediately with "Well you should have been doing that every day this week. You're a bad wife. You stay at home and do--what, exactly?--all day, and you can't even feed him?"
And now my toddler is crying for gods know what and I can't find my give-a-damn. She has her favorite snack, a sippy cup of juice, two loveys and a video playing, and she isn't happy.
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