Today, Husband = Poo

I love my husband, don't get me wrong, but sometimes, I feel like he's poo on the bottom of my shoe. Seriously. The times are few and far between, and all other times, he's amazing, but on days like today, I just want to scrape him off and leave him at the doorstep.

He texted me mid-day today stating that he had a flat tire and asking what to do. I told him to change it and put on the spare. He replied that he doesn't have a jack or a tire iron in his car (nor do I, matter of fact. Maybe we should invest in some, eh?) so I told him to ask his coworkers if anyone had a jack and iron he could use after work. Finally, he found someone (after I already arranged for two potential back-ups).

I called the mechanic and asked if they could squeeze us in. Puh-puh-please?! They made us fit between two other appointments.

I rearranged my work schedule to make sure I would be home when Isa got off the bus, since I didn't know how long he would take to change the tire. When I called him after she got home, he said he was at the gas station because it was low, not flat. He was short tempered and grumpy because he said he didn't feel well.

So, I told him that we were taking it to the mechanic anyways. He's had a slow leak forever, and I had already made the appointment. I met him there, then dropped him and the kids off at the house (car-less) while I went to work for the night.

I called him after speaking to the mechanic and said that we would be spending a small fortune, but that it would be ready tonight. I asked him if he wanted a friend to go with him to pick it up when they were done, that way the kids could go to bed at their normal time. Since I didn't get off work until about an hour after bedtime, he was going to need to keep them up otherwise so we could go get his car. He said no, he didn't want to go with a friend, that it'd be okay to wait until I got home. Again, more sick grumpy husband.

When I got off work around 9 PM, I called him. No answer. Called again. And again. Finally, he answered the phone, groggy. I asked if he was sleeping. Yup. I asked if the kids were in bed. Yup. UGH. I asked him how we were going to get his car then, and he asked me why I was mad. UGH. I basically hung up.

I called an amazing friend and neighbor and asked her if she could help me pick up the car. She agreed. And, when I got home, our living room was a small disaster. Dinner plates were still on the floor (we are cleaning and the dining room table is messy). Socks on the couch. Pillows everywhere. The kitchen was (and still is) a mess, but I'll get it tomorrow.

I get it. I do. He's sick. He doesn't feel well. But seriously, if I'm sick, the world requires that I get off my butt and keep going. I rarely get to just give up and go to bed. And when I do, I get crap from him: he accuses me of being sick all the time, of making it up, of exaggerating, etc. I usually feel so guilty that I can't even rest and end up getting up and doing housework, taking care of the kids, and whatnot anyways.

Either way, I'm grumpy with him tonight. I was wanting to paint, but now have a headache and no time to do much of anything at all anyways. Ugh. Me so grumpy. Poo. On my shoe.

At least it's cute poo...