We are leaving for the weekend tomorrow morning, and as I am a stay at home mom I have been working all day to get things ready (for me that mostly means cleaning the house, making sure all the laundry is done, then grocery shopping, etc). I haven't quite finished everything, the Poppet threw a wrench in the laundry plan by pooping all over her crib during her nap. Ok, no big deal, I can clean that up and move on. Hubby got home a 7:30 and needed to mow the lawn, which was fine, I was finishing up dinner. So, I'm cooking up the ground beef for tacos and I look out the window and he's trimming. Ok, fine, whatever, I don't understand why someone would do the detail work first when there's other stuff to be done, but ok. We've got an electric mower so if he has to he won't bug the neighbors mowing after 9pm. At 8, the Poppet and I have to run to Kohls because I don't have any decent walking shoes, and I'm 7 months pregnant, so I need some for walking around all weekend. I leave dinner on the table and hubby finishing his meal. I come home to a dark yard, lawn half mown, dinner still on the table, and hubby sitting in front of his computer in his skivvies.
Now, if he can't finish the lawn tonight, that's fine,
but there are other things to do. Honey, have you packed? Did you change the cat litter? Did you take the extra boxes out to the garage? Did you move the heavy stuff downstairs that I left here for you? No? You want me to shut up and mind my own business and stop being a nagging b****? Well, F YOU buddy, I'm super pregnant and have been dealing with a toddler all day, along with cleaning the other animal cages that I'm still allowed to do while I'm pregnant. We're leaving
tomorrow morning and I don't want to listen to you whine (and yell) about why I haven't finished doing what needs to be done and why can't we get out the door already when I've been working my butt off and you haven't done anything. I also don't want to listen to the s*** about 'hey, where's my...socks? underwear? razor? Didn't you pack it/them?' HELL NO. I pack my stuff, the Poppet's stuff, the food, the swimming bag, the grill and charcoal, and the car. Get off your butt and do it yourself. I pack entertainment for the ride, the phones, chargers, video camera, and camera. I'm not packing a 27-year-old man's weekend bag. And I also don't appreciate being yelled and screamed at when I ask you a simple question, nor do I appreciate the scornful and exasperated '
WHAT?' you scream in answer to my calling your name. Yes, this is going to be a relaxing weekend for you, you've been working 11 hour days to make the extra bills and I'm very, very grateful for that, but honey, the weekend hasn't started yet. My sciatic nerve is screaming at me, my stomach hurts, and I still need to finish folding laundry, clean the cooler, vaccuum, pack my things, print out the reservation confirmation, print out directions, and clean out the car.
SO GET OFF YOUR A** AND HELP ME OUT.