Rant! RANT!
So, it's Saturday. And the kidlet is out of the house with Hil, and all is quiet, and instead of doing homework, or shooting things, or puttering with home improvement things, (y'know...me time), I'm cleaning up after the wreckage that only two women can create.
Okay, I'm sorry, that was a bit tongue in cheek, and meant in sarcasm.
But, Hil didn't have to work today, so she was taking care of the kidlet for the day, they were going shopping, and all manner of things, so dad would get to do...Dad things (see above).
It was all going fine, until I actually got out of bed and came downstairs.
The only thing I could think of, was, "What in the hell?" You know those commercials, where the woman comes home and the man is there with the kid, and there's spaghetti on the ceiling fan, and the cat is wearing a diaper and the kid is duct taped into the bouncy seat and there are toys, EVERYWHERE? Well, okay, it wasn't that bad. But there were toys everywhere, and the high chair had spaghettios splashed on it like a Jackson Pollock painting, and dishes, and...and...
I went back upstairs and started cleaning the bedroom, putting away my laundry, sorting clothes that the kidlet has grown out of, just...basically removing myself from the kidageddon that was downstairs.
That's when Hilary told me she needed help getting Becky ready to go shopping with her. "Can you pack the diaper bag. Where are her cups? Put her jacket on..."
I'm sorry, "lol, wut?"
I mean, every other day, I do this. I get the kidlet up, get her dressed, fed, diaper bag organized for grammas, cleaned up and out the door. It's not that difficult. It just takes...I don't know...practice? The willingness to do it?
Okay, sure, maybe if Hil was home in the mornings when I leave, she would help. But the fact is, she isn't, so I do it. And when I get home at 12:30, I feed the kidlet, wash her up, get her to nap, y'know...I'm the stay at home dad. I just...I do these things. So, I'm thinking, why is it so hard for her? And why is it, when I'm in the middle of changing the sheets on the bed, or cleaning the bedroom floor, or brushing my teeth, I am supposed to drop everything to help her? I could see if I were just sitting in my underwear watching golf. Yeah, then, sure, why not help? But if I'm doing something, why is it impossible for her to get Becky ready and get out the door by herself?
It's just frustrating, I guess. And I know, that maybe it's a little thing, a petty thing. But it bothers me. That and the fact that I'm cleaning up a spaghettio covered chair, and doing cleaning chores when I need to get this calc take home test done. *sigh*
Anyway, I don't know how to change the situation, so I suppose, I'll just have to live with it. And, fyi, the diaper bag was packed and ready to go. Although, there was only one toy in it, instead of the six that Hil decided to take with her. SIX!? yeah. nevermind. That's a whole other rant.