And it was written:  All will go well in the two-income family as long as the child can go to daycare.

Tuesday, July 5, 7 a.m. - Oh, the first day back after a holiday is always hell. It was exactly one year ago on July 5 that I returned to the working world, this time as a mama.  Do I regret my return to the workforce?  OF COURSE!  But I secretly desire to sit around and write novels all day, so I'm not really a good candidate for that question even without a child.  Oh, and in the midst of my navel gazing, I realize the little angel has an 102-degree temperature.

Tuesday, July 5, noon - The little angel, while fussy, has held out at 99 degrees for a few hours.  I think I'll take her to the Emerald City. 

Tuesday, July 5, 2 p.m. - Beloved calls to say he is at home with the little angel. He is not happy. Enter chaos.

Wednesday, July 6, 3 a.m. - The child must be held. The child will die if she is not held.  Hold me now, Mama.  No, this way!  No, that way!  You must hold this toe, right now!  No, not that toe!  God, do I have to tell you everything?  I hate you. I hate me. I hate the whole world.

Wednesday, July 6, 4:40 a.m.  - I lie, tossing and turning, certain we have given the little angel contaminated Motrin. I think I might be starting to lose it a little. My beloved slugs me when I wake him up for the fourth time to verify it was US who opened the Motrin last week, not a killer.

Wednesday, July 6 - 7 a.m. - Mother calls to see if we want her to drive down from Iowa to watch the little angel while we work. Her temp is normal. We refuse, proud we don't have to beg for help.

Wednesday, July 6 - 9 a.m. - Little angel has gone insane and is howling through my conference call. Co-workers asking for deliverables.  Sweat has soaked through my shirt.  I'm freebasing caffeine.  We are almost out of Diet Coke!  I shall die.  Call Supernanny service for sick children my friend C. told me about last week (that I swore I would never use - well, promises are meant to be broken).

Wednesday, July 6 - 10 a.m. - Supernanny has NOT come through.  Get off conference call, frantically try to update document. Try to put little angel down for nap. She screams for twenty minutes.  Feel her head - 102.  Very bad.  Feel horrible. Bad mama, bad worker.  Call own mother, beg her to come down after all. Call back Supernanny.

Wednesday, July 6 - 11 a.m. - Little angel still screaming.  Have updated two lines of document.  Lines of reality beginning to blur. Head throbbing. Sister Little calls to tell about new car - very exciting. Start bawling on new-car Sister.  She calls Mother.  Mother on way.  Call beloved, demand he come home so I can update the damn fucking document before my afternoon of back-to-back meetings at Large Corporate Telecom.  Beloved is mad because he will be chastised by not-understanding-because-have-stay-at-home-wives co-workers.

Wednesday, July 6 - 1 p.m. - Supernanny calls - she is coming!  Hooray!  Mother calls!  Is on way!  There will be free childcare on Thursday!  Today - only $60 for 3.5 hours!  On top of what we paid daycare that she is not using this week because she is banned!  Hooray!  It is so much fun to bleed through the eyes so we can work!  Fuck, yeah!

Thursday, July 7 - 7 a.m. - Mother is here.  Little angel wakes up with just 99 degree temp.  We are all very much hoping to go on our planned flight to Chicago tomorrow to see Sister Little, Rock-Star Boyfriend and New Car, not to mention 30-pound Kitty and Small Kitty.  I call the rental car agency. They tell me we have to cancel THIS MINUTE in order to not get charged if we are not coming.  Start crying, call Sister Little, wake her up to discuss.  Mother comes upstairs while I'm crying.  Beloved groans from behind the bathroom door.

Me:  "We can't come, everything is for naught."

SL:  "Why?"

Me:  "Little angel still has a fever. Car rental company has been taken over by wolves. Woe is me."

Ma:  "Her temperature is gone."

Me:  "What?"

I look down. The little angel is throwing my mother's white Hanes underwear all over the floor.  My beloved is adverting his eyes.  She does seem to be better. We decide to keep the car, get several pediatrician's phone numbers and plan to proceed with the trip unless her fever goes above 101.5 in the next 24 hours.  I frantically pray for low temps.  I NEED a vacation, people.