This is an emergency. This is not a test. Please take shelter in the nearest underground room away from all windows and doors, and especially hidden from sight and sound of your wife/mother of your child.
This is why people get divorced after they have kids.
It was a long weekend in Boopsie’s Queendom… including a bad cold for her, a bad cold and the stomach flu for me, and a business trip for Daddy-o. Last night Daddy-o was tired, as he’d gotten up at 4:30 a.m. to make his flight home. I decided to take the baby monitor and sleep in the guest room to give him a restful night.
It was a terrible night. After I gave Boopsie a 10:30 p.m. dreamfeed, she proceeded to wake up at 12:10 a.m., 2:45 a.m. and 4:20 a.m. Daddy-o overheard part of the 2:45 a.m. wake-up because I had to make her a bottle of formula. The stomach flu has messed up my milk supply.
Anyway, this was our exchange at 7:00 a.m. this morning:
Daddy-o: How’d she do last night?
Me: She got up at 12, 2, and 4.
Daddy-o (correcting me): Actually, it was more like 3.
WHAT?!? The best response he could muster was to call into question my evaluation of the timing?
I don’t think “enraged” is an overstatement here.
A few minutes later, when Daddy-o reported that he’d fed the cats I snidely told him I would give him a gold star. Then I warned him that I was so deadly crabby that he probably shouldn’t talk to me (for his own good).
Upon reflection, Daddy-o probably didn’t mean to call into question my record-keeping or effort, but I’m still irritated. Would I feel better if I wasn’t able to count on one hand the number of times Daddy-o has gotten up with Boopsie in the night? Would I be less crabby if I weren’t still feeling sick and wiped out from the stomach flu? Yes, on both accounts. But what is it about parenting (other than the exhaustion, stress and financial demands) that makes us want to throttle our partners?