Thursday, February 8, 2007

Some cheese with that whine??

So. I was in bed at 6:30 pm Tuesday night, still suffering from my earache, exhausted after being up with both the kids since 4:30am. Luckily, Shawn skipped the dinner part of his meeting, so I was able to have Jax fed and ready for bed by the time he walked through the door. Upset that I hadn't fixed anything for him to eat (as I had been told he would be dining out!), Shawn took out his anger by sending Jax in several times during the evening, and even stooped so low as to scream and yell at me because I hadn't laid Jax's binky out where he could find it. Sometimes I wish I was a lesbian.

Anyway, Wednesday didn't go much better, kids were both up again before the rooster's crow, my ear was still achy and I couldn't get a doctor appointment that didn't coincide with picking up or dropping off Ryan at one of her daily destinations, so I just sucked it up, locked Jax in his room (please, he's in his Big Boy Bed now -- how else am I supposed to get him to sleep?), attempted a 30 minute nap while my neighbors were having their trees trimmed (isn't that always the way?), and grudgingly pulled both of us out of the house in time to get Ryan from school.

After the debacle that was Tuesday night, and mostly because he finally got around to fixing the washing machine (BY HIMSELF!), I decided to make dinner for Shawn -- potato cakes, fried chicken and apple crisp. Except? The chicken didn't thaw all the way, as I discovered when trying to pull apart the legs, which would have been okay seeing as how we had back-up pork chops in the freezer that were easily micro-wave thawable if I hadn't covered them with Cayenne Pepper rather than Cumin -- oopsie! He loved 'em, I gagged. But the potato cakes and Apple Crisp? MMMMmmmmmm Good!

So explain to me why WHY he felt the need to fetch a screaming Jaxson at 5:20 this morning, deliver him to my bed (where a fever-ridden Ryan was already residing), and then leave? Why does he do this? Does he hate me? Is this payback for some forgotten crime? Does he secretly wish I was a lesbian, too? Alas, we may never know, for when I ask, all I get out of him is: "What? I was trying to help!"

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