The fuse has been lit

Monday night, upon arriving home after 9 pm and seeing LMNOB asleep, ON THE COUCH, and Punkinhead, STILL AWAKE, dishes to the ceiling, papers EVERYWHERE, filthy floors and more, I asked Charlie Brown if LMNOB had done her Monday Math.

In his shirking-responsibility-defiance voice, a voice that I am oh too well acquainted with, "No - you didn't tell me to!"

Oh. My. ___________________

"Well, hon, she's been doing Monday Math for oh, seven months now? I didn't think you would need to be told. I assume they didn't get baths?"

Correct.

"Why aren't they in their beds - it's after 9."

"Because, Heather, they find it a little hard to go to sleep without seeing you."

Oh thanks for playing the guilt card. Yes I know, and I've been totally overcompensating for it and now they're just BRATS!

Which, ok whatever. It was what he said next that just sent me over the edge:

"Cut me some slack. I've had to pick them up and be with them 4 out of 5 nights last week," (two of those nights by the way were just pick-up, not a late night for me) "I'm tired."

"Man, I'm really sorry. Sucks having to be a parent, doesn't it?" I said with exaggerated empathy. "Welcome to my world, dear."

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Last night we're looking at bills and paychecks and determined that thanks to a new truck payment, we are going to have to be a little creative.

So we make a 2 wk menu plan, grocery list and go to the grocer's.

$200 later we drove home.

After I got the kids to bed, I sat down in the kitchen to put away the goods Charlie Brown had unloaded.

After about 1/2 an hour, and him in the living room watching tv, I started singing, "All by myyyyyyyseeeeeelf....Don't wanna be....alll by myyyyyseeeeelllllf, anymore..."

I know what you must be thinking, "Dang she's turned into a passive aggressive bitch."

Not really, just a pissed off mama who is trying to do too much because her hubs does too little.

Charlie Brown came in and helped me clean and reorg the fridge so that we could put all of our perishable nutrient bounties in the temperature preserving treasure chest.

Then he went and sat back down.

While I continued to work.

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I sense a division of labor smack-down coming on.




© 2008 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved