Y'know. Ya KNOW! I've just about had it.
TCBIM is out of work at the moment. He is looking for work, and looking hard, which is good. However. He can't seem to see why he should get out of bed in the morning and give me a hand getting the baby ready to go. I need to make sure I get in at least 40 hours each week, which means I have to leave the house by 7 a.m. at the latest, in order to get to work by 8 a.m.. I get up at 6 a.m.. In that hour, I have to shower, get dressed, get the baby's food and milk together for the day, get my lunch, feed the dog, put the dog out, feed the cat, feed the baby some breakfast, get her dressed and try to throw in a load of laundry (that generally falls by the wayside). I've started getting her lunch ready the night before and I've taken to having oatmeal or soup for lunch because it's quick and I can just toss it in my handbag. Packaged, of course. Globs of oatmeal in my bag would just be messy.
This morning, the baby woke up when my alarm went off. Sometimes she'll go back to sleep, but not this morning. She came toddling into the bathroom while I was in the shower and stood there, so cute in her little pjs, babbling at me. I dried off quickly and scooped her up. TCBIM is snoring away in the bed, oblivious to the fact that Boo has made a break for it and was roaming the house. (Did I mention that she still sleeps with us? Did I mention how SICK I am of that? Consider it mentioned.)
I woke him up - and you have no idea how I had to restrain myself from giving him a good prod with my toes - and asked him to please get her dressed while I got her lunch together. Instead, he hauls her back under the covers and tries to get her to go back to sleep. She's having none of it. So while I'm cutting up veggies and fruits and meat for her to take to daycare, she's shrieking like a banshee. Cue much stomping by me as I snatch her out of bed and get her dressed in record time.
At this point, I had to have a yell. "Can you please get your arse out of bed and help me? I have a finite amount of time in which to get ready in the morning. You have all day to snooze, should you choose to do so. It would help me if you could get up, get the baby dressed and feed her some breakfast so that I don't have to run around like a crazy person. Were you the one racing around on a time limit, trying to get yourself and her ready to go, I certainly wouldn't just lie there in bed, watching the news, while you scrambled around doing twelve things at once."
He just looked at me. Then he said, "Fine. I guess I can get up and help you." I swear, I didn't think my eyes could roll that far up into my head, but every day, it seems, I can get them to go further and further. Pretty soon, they're going to be able to do 360s.
To add insult to injury, my underwear wasn't fully dry when I put in on. Damp undies. My joy knows no bounds.
I need a vacation.