As anyone who knows me knows, I'm a control freak. Type A. A micromanager. I come from a long line of females like it. And my daughter is one too. I plan and analyze and then end up trying to do everything myself because I need it done a specific manner and a specific time frame. I add a lot of stress to myself. And I drive my husband insane with it.
So, I'm this person who thinks they can control everything. I talk to inanimate objects. When something is not cooperating (think stacking items that are sliding all over the place), I tell the objects to, "Be nice." I talk to other drivers, warning them not to pull out in front of me. As if they could hear me. And yes, I talk to the tv. I feel that I can control the outcome of, say a sporting event, by yelling at the TV.
Now, I know, realistically, that this is insane. However, I do know that I have some actual proof that I can control the universe. And the weight of that responsibility is weighing heavily right now.
Let's rewind to Fall 2003. I was pregnant with my first child. My husband and I watched the playoffs. I stayed up late every night, as it seemed EVERY game went about 20 innings as my Red Sox tried their hardest against the Yankees. I promised the powers that be one late, late night that I would name my son "Trot Nixon Biel" if they won the series. Yeah, we all know how that turned out.
Jake was born in 2004. The Red Sox won the World Series in 2004.
Ok, could be a coincidence.
Sophia was born in 2007. The Red Sox won again in 2007.
Apparently, my giving birth that calendar year enables the Red Sox to win the World Series. We had talked earlier in the year about whether or not to try for #3. We voted no. So is it my fault the Red Sox have imploded? Do I have to keep having babies for the Red Sox to win?
If I do have control over this, I'm not sure I want it. That's a lot of responsibility for one person.
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