Sometimes I want to kill the chef. Or at least maim him. This morning is one of those mornings.
You see when we had Catcher, the chef was the most amazing man (still is, different way). He took care of Catcher all night so I could sleep. He changed diapers on the regular and he helped clean the house with actual cleaning products.
Baby #2 rolls around and dude has disappeared at night. I got baby girl waking up with a cough looking for boob. I got the boy waking up to play cars & drink milk. All at 3 am. And guess who is spooning with Potato pit bull? All the while I am up to my wits in shit, milk, and matchbox cars.
What happened to that angel of a man? Why did he only show up for the first baby?
I'll tell you why. The novelty of a new baby has worn off. With Catcher it was a whole new world. Everything he did was amazing including shitting & spitting up.
Now it's just hard messy work, especially @ 3am.
I am definitely not trying to say the chef doesn't pull his weight. He does. He still changes diapers. He does laundry (sort of-actually he just does like 8 loads and then throws it in our room for me to fold), he does the dishes like clockwork every morning. He makes coffee. Sometimes he even sticks around long enough to make us breakfast.
He is a very helpful man, especially with his fucked up schedule.
Girl could use a break though. Just one full night of sleep would be cool.
Hint~*~CHEF this post is a hint of what I want for Valentine's day.