I don't like waking up early. Never have. I am not a morning person. My children, on the other hand are morning people. As soon as the sun rises they bound out of bed. This annoys me. Now, I knew when getting into this that my days of sleeping until nine were over, but six? Come on now. That's just too damn early. If I don't need to drive myself to a paying job then I don't need to crawl out of bed at that hour either.......but I do.....and I hate it.
I am so tired. I need some sleep. Elizabeth is sleeping better, but she's still up nursing every three to four hours so I'm not getting a good stretch in there to feel even the slightest bit refreshed in the morning. This makes me cranky and moody and, frankly, makes me want to leave my husband or, at the very least, refuse to cook his dinner this evening.
Disclaimer: Husband is a good dad to his kids and usually a good husband, but this is my blog and I reserve the right to complain about him as appropriate.
Husband is having a hard time at work this week. I don't ask how, because I don't understand a lick of what he does, but I know he is because he flings open the door an hour later every evening and announces: "I had the worst possible day" and stomps around with a big old scowl on his face. Yes, I know this means I am supposed to drop everything and run to his rescue with a big hug and a listening ear and, in his mind, probably forget we have children and let them play with knives and poison while I drag him upstairs for some hot monkey love, but umm, I have three children and I'm tired. I did the listening thing on Monday, isn't that enough? Anywho.....having a bad work day apparently gives you a pass on kid duties because he ain't doing any. Oh, he thinks he's doing things, but he isn't. Telling the boys they need to take a bath isn't helpful. Running the water and getting them there and actually bathing them is. Last night I ran back and forth between two tubs supervising and bathing each time passing the computer where the husband sat holding sleeping Elizabeth and each time he would state, "I would help, but I've got the baby" Ummm, yeah. That excuse works when she's screaming, but not sleeping. After baths, I spent over an hour with a splitting migraine wrestling Adam into bed while husband watched some stupid show on SciFi and would call out "I'd help, but I've got the baby" although at some point there I ended up with the baby and then I was wrestling two of them to bed. Fun times. By the time I got Adam to sleep at 10:05, I trotted my crabby ass downstairs and told the husband that I had a headache I wanted to nurse and would he please, oh pretty please, put Elizabeth to bed?? Can you believe I even felt a little guilty asking him to hold his very own daughter? Yeah, I did, until I was awakened out of a deep sleep by my assh*le husband shoving a baby in my face and yelling that she was hungry and off he went. Oh, was it already two, the time she's been waking to nurse? I looked at the clock and noticed it had been turned around, hmm weird, so I turn it around and, guess what? It was eleven o'clock on the dot. She had been nursed at 9:30, there was no way she needed to nurse again, he just wanted to go to bed. Alone. In the bed in the baby's room. ASS! To top that off, he didn't even make the bed when he left, so that's an extra bed I have to make this morning.
Okay, I'm done.
Is it noon yet?
No, it's eight and I already feel like the sun should be setting. Not a good sign.
At least we're having pizza tonight.
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