Also, on the to do list front...it would be nice to not have to feel like I need to make a big damn deal out of it everytime he does something. H painted our front door the other day, something he was supposed to do ( and said he would do) last fall. Whooo boy you'd think he built Rome he was so proud. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate him doing it and it is something I could certainly do myself but didn't. It's just that for all the other stuff I do around here on the daily WITHOUT needing someone to make me a list, I get a little aggitated that I don't get a parade
This is how my H approaches parenting.
H: "No, I didn't give K a bath. YOU DIDN'T TELL ME TO." (Really? No one tells me to but I know to DO IT, goddammit) H, on a day it's been 10 degrees outside and he was responsible for bring her to daycare - I pick her up and she's wearing a tank top and capris: "Well, you didn't lay out an outfit for her. I just grabbed something." (IT'S TEN FUCKING DEGREES OUT. Get some common sense, if YOU wouldn't go out in a tank top and capris, what on God's green earth made you dress your child in such clothing?)
I get tired of having to tell him to parent his kid. It's not like I've done this before, she's our only child. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to look at her, see crap stuck in her hair, and know she needs a damn bath. Funny how no one needs to tell me that ten degrees outside warrants long pants, sweaters, hats and mittens.
I swear to all that is holy nothing makes me rage faster than hearing " you didn't tell me to" seriously dude, you are a smart man, use your head!
H: "No, I didn't give K a bath. YOU DIDN'T TELL ME TO." (Really? No one tells me to but I know to DO IT, goddammit) H, on a day it's been 10 degrees outside and he was responsible for bring her to daycare - I pick her up and she's wearing a tank top and capris: "Well, you didn't lay out an outfit for her. I just grabbed something." (IT'S TEN FUCKING DEGREES OUT. Get some common sense, if YOU wouldn't go out in a tank top and capris, what on God's green earth made you dress your child in such clothing?)
I get tired of having to tell him to parent his kid. It's not like I've done this before, she's our only child. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to look at her, see crap stuck in her hair, and know she needs a damn bath. Funny how no one needs to tell me that ten degrees outside warrants long pants, sweaters, hats and mittens.
I swear to all that is holy nothing makes me rage faster than hearing " you didn't tell me to" seriously dude, you are a smart man, use your head!
This kind of shit happened a few times early in our marriage until I snapped and screamed "You're a goddamned engineer with a fucking masters degree and a genius IQ. I'm not stupid enough to believe you don't know how to do X."
I'll complain too! I feel like all I do is try to get people to sleep and wake them up in this damn house. Every morning I get up at 5:30 and get myself ready. Then I fix breakfast for me and Rocco (H is in his own here, he can fix his own damn breakfast) and then I wake up Rocco. Then H. Then Rocco again. Then H again. OR on the weekends I wake up first. Rocco gets up. We do our thing but h doesn't get up until he hears me arguing with Rocco about whatever the tantrum du jour is. I get it. I wake up early. I can't help that and I don't want to sleep in. But damn it if I don't want to punch him in the balls when I am in the middle of dealing with whatever and he decides to come shuffling out to intervene. Get the hell away from me with your sleep face.
If I were to die unexpectedly, I shudder to think what the house would look like; how my child would be dressed each day - or if he'd notice enough to see she needed new clothes when she was outgrowing her current size...
I have thought about this before. I honestly don't think my kids would ever get a bath again.
My husband and I split up getting up on weekends -- I get up with DD on Saturday, he gets up on Sunday. Except that he stays up until 2 a.m. and DD gets up at 6-ish. So then I get to listen to him bitch about how tired he is all day on Sunday, and how he'll help me with XYZ projects later, but he just has to go take a nap first.
I go in to work early one day a week, so that's the day that DH has to handle dropping off DD at her baby sitter's house. In the 8-ish months that he's been responsible for taking her on this one day, he has forgotten her lunch FOUR TIMES. Four. And it's not like she's got a ton of stuff she has to take, either. It's literally just her lunch bag. He also never brushes her hair on those days. He "doesn't know how." When I pick her up on those days, DD always says, "The babysitter had to do my hair again today because Daddy didn't brush it." My poor ragamuffin child.