Two days

That's how much time TCBIM is taking off when I have the baby. The day she's born and the day after. Unless, of course, she's born over a weekend. Then he won't take any time at all.

I can't even begin to tell you how angry I am. Two days? I realize that he doesn't have any vacation time, but two days? I haven't even been able to talk to him about it because I'm so upset that I know I'll just go off and get hysterical and that won't win me any points.

I don't know why I can't make him see that I need his help. Not forever, but for now. Every day, while he's at work, he calls and says he's going to do thus-and-so when he gets home. And every night, he gets home, eats his dinner and plops down in front of the tv and does exactly nothing. He might wash the dish he uses for his dinner, but no one else's and never any pots and pans. When I complain, he rolls his eyes at me. When I try to talk rationally and calmly, he says he'll do more. But he doesn't.

His big argument is that he does all the big stuff, like mowing the lawn. But the lawn hasn't been mowed in three weeks. He rushed down to Home Depot to get a screen door for the back door, but it doesn't fit properly. So it's hanging there, half open all the time and useless, because there's a huge gap and, oh, it doesn't close. He threw it in my face that he was going to be the one replacing the heating system. But the heating system, all three-fucking-thousand dollars worth of it, is still sitting in the driveway. It's not even in the cellar yet, it's in the drive, under a tarp. It's been there since May. Three THOUSAND dollars worth of stuff. Sitting there. Rotting.

The thing is, I can't do this stuff right now. I can't mow the lawn. I can't fix the door. I certainly can't hump a cast iron boiler into the cellar all by myself. And I'm sick of it. I'm sick of living this half-assed existence and hearing these stupid excuses from him. I wouldn't mind doing all the housework if he was doing his bit, but he's not.

He leaves stuff everywhere. In my back yard are his golf clubs, golf shoes and hockey gear. They've been there since last night. I'd imagine they're going to be there for another week or two, getting ruined in the weather. His side of the bedroom is no better. We have a very small room. There's maybe a foot of space between the edge of the bed and the closet. It's impossible for me to get in the closet because his clothes cover the floor space. Mind you, the laundry and hamper are about three steps outside the door, but he doesn't put them in the hamper, he just leaves them on the floor. He can't even feed his own dog. I asked him to three times last night and when I got up this morning, the dog had no food and no water.

I can't get him to change his ways. I can't make him see that this is a problem, a serious problem. He's ruining things that cost money; lots and lots of money. I don't know why he doesn't see this.

It's not going to get any better once the new baby gets here, either. I'm going to have less time than I have now to get things done. And he's already said that he doesn't want to come home and immediately take over the child care. So. What do I do? How am I going to cope?

I wish I hadn't gotten pregnant. I wish we hadn't bought this house. I wish I'd kept my job and stayed in the town we were in and just left everything as it was. At least when I was working, I had his help. But now, now that I'm not working, he seems to think that I'm going to be able to do it all. I just don't see that happening. And I don't know how to make things better.