Miss Pissy Pants

This post could be about me or my daughter, so I shall talk about us both. And I shall use the F word and probably the A word and the S word. I can almost guarantee I won't use the C word because I don't like that word. You've been warned.

Let's start with my daughter. My darling baby girl HATES to travel. She hates change. She hates the unfamiliar. It's a good thing she lives on a very small island in the middle of a verybig ocean. We don't go anywhere too often. Which suits her Just Fine. She likes to be at home, in her jammies, with her toys, and maybe a friend over to play. Doesn't like to leave the house under any circumstances, really. So you can imagine that having suitcases piled all over, and lots of conversations like "Where are we going to sleep the night we get to Boston" and "How many nights will we be there ? 2 ? or 3?" have pushed her completely over the edge.

Tonight a neighbor came over to discuss picking up our mail, and the dates we would be gone, and Sami told her the HE would only be gone a few days, and that we (the kids and I) would be back much later. And when Lucy heard that, well, it was kind of like that movie Exorcist, where the little girl was shrieking and her head was spinning around and an exorcism was clearly necessary. Apparently, Lucy was not aware that Daddy was coming home before us. Which means, of course, that he will be HOME with HER STUFF and HER FRIENDS (and in her mind having what amounts to a non-stop tea party with brief intermissions to jump on the bouncy castle). So, needless to say, she's pissed.

Really Pissed.

I am just tired. And when I get tired, I get pissed easily. And hooo boy did I get pissed tonight. I decided to lay down for 30 mnutes before my second shift - Sami was home, and Lucy was in bed with me watching a movie, and then suddenly, Lucy was crying (Still ? Again ? I've lost track at this point.) and I came out to the living room and Sami was just SITTING THERE like he didn't know how to deal with a crazy toddler. It was 5:30. There were no lights on in the house. He had not started anything for dinner. Lucy clearly needed to be in bed, like, an hour ago, and he was dicking around and I got really mad and basically told him to buck up and get on board, because I was not in the mood for sweet simple Sami. I needed Sami the renaissance man to kick into gear and come to my rescue because FUCK, you know ? Just.....FUCK. I am tired, and stressed. I am working what feels like 24-7 but is really only, say, 20/7. I am not sleeping. I am eating crap food and not drinking water. I am not exercising or going outside. I am overwhelmed with the things I need to get done before we leave (not the least of which is eating all of the food in the refrigerator and cupboards. Today, it was PBJ on crackers because I ran out of bread yesterday and damned if I was going to buy another loaf when I had those PERFECTLY GOOD SALTINES.)

But there is a spark to the explosion Sami experienced tonight. Last night I went to a movie with a girlfriend. Before the movie, in one hour, I went to the bank, the post office, the party supply store, the YMCA to cancel our membership, the restaurant to pick up his flip flops I had left there by accident (long story). I also went to 2 pharmacies. I busted my ass, then took my girlfriend to the movies for her birthday. I came home, and the ONE THING I had asked him to do was not done. Never mind all the things I didn't specifically request, but just need to happen. Like, emptying the dishwasher, sweeping, running laundry so Max has a clean uniform, etc. etc. etc.

And all of that culminated in me just losing my shit when today he was still not getting with the program.

I get this way. I like to do things myself, and Sami knows that, and so he just assumes that I never need or want help with the things I usually take care of. As a result, he rarely asks if there is anything he can do. Or offers to do anything.....Tonight I reminded him (loudly) that we are leaving for a very long trip, and I have a lot to do, and the nice and considerate thing to do would be to call, maybe, once during the day, and see if there is something you can do on your way home. Like bring home a fucking PIZZA or something since I have to run back to work the minute you get home and don't really have time to cook the usual 3 course fucking dinner I usually do. Or get gas in the car. Or pick up party invitations for Max's birthday. Or any one of the 25 other things on my to-do list, none of which I had time for today, because I was at work beginning at 7:30am.

So today was not my best day. I was not at my best. I have been better.

Tomorrow, on the other hand, is going to be awesome. Or at least, better then today. Unless something really shitty happens, and then you will be hearing all about THAT let me tell you.

But I am sure everything is gong to go just great tomorrow, and we will click along right on time, and everything will be fabulous. It fucking better be. Fuck.