I guess you can figure out what the problem was. They weren't clean.
Matt and I are always joking around with each other, so when he told me he thought the dishes in the dishwasher were dirty later that night, I said, "Please tell me you're joking." He insisted, so we began to inspect the dishes. We rinse everything off so well (since our dishwasher sucks), that it's hard to tell sometimes.
We inspected coffee cups, glasses, etc. I was convinced they were clean. I JUST KNEW THEY WERE. But then Matt lifted out the offending plate, and it was clearly dirty.
I burst into tears. I'd been feeding my baby with dirty bottles and spoons. GAG. I am a total germaphobe, so I really felt nauseated at the thought. I mean, after we rinse dirty bottles, they sometimes sit there for a day or two. Imagine all the bacteria that collected on them before they even went in the dishwasher. I cried harder.
Matt came in the bedroom and told me I was being ridiculous for crying. ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME? RIDICULOUS? Men. Why don't they understand these things? Why didn't he understand that, in the job of taking care of Audrey, I had failed completely and totally?
I am soooo disgusted with myself. And I blame Oprah. That's right. I saw one of her shows years ago about germs, where they tested hotel comforters, doorknobs, kitchen sinks, etc. for germs. I've been totally paranoid ever since. Yes, I'm aware I have OCD, so don't even tell me that.
So, I suck. And I feel like a failure.