You know, I just don't have it in me to do a flashback Friday post today; I will be back with one next week, but when I try to think of something in the past about which to write, I get stumped. When I remember things, lately anyway, the memories tend to be not-so-great, and I am tired of dwelling in the past.
And what I am in a general sense is also tired. It has been one of those weeks where the days have flown by, and before I know it is time to get up and start another day. My daycare is closed all next week for the 4th, too, so here at work I have been frantic with trying to get my desk cleared; I am taking Monday off, and with hope the childcare for the rest of the week will fall into place, and I am feeling basically frazzled and annoyed,
But this is part of my annoyance, the fact that this closure of the daycare is next week, and I don't have childcare lined up yet. Why, you might ask? I will TELL you why: because Steve did not follow through. Before I get any further, let me tell you that when Owen was born, I was responsible for finding and approving a daycare, with no effort or input from him at all. When our sweet Owen was getting abused at that daycare, it pissed Steve off, sure, but he also left it to me to research and find another one. I had all of the verbal support in the world from him, but no practical help. When Owen was so sick the first year of his life, it was I who used up every minute of my sick and vacation time in order to take care of him, take him to the doctor, etc...as well as completely changed my diet (still nursing at that time) AND Owen's in order to accommodate Owen's food allergies when they were diagnosed. When this daycare was also closed last year at this time (it is her vacation every year), my Hannah stayed home with Owen, but this year, Hannah isn't home and Eli is not EVEN responsible or patient enough to deal with a toddler for 9 hours a day. Anyway, so I have done approximately 90% of all of the caretaking and arrangements and such up until now. You have to know that going in so I don't come across as just another bitch.
So last month, I told told Steve that the daycare was going to be closed, and that I would need his help finding care for Owen during the week (there are oodles of Steve's family here, any of whom I would feel comfortable in having watch Owen). Two weeks ago I reminded him again, he said he was working on it, then last week I asked him what the plans were and he still didn't know, and finally, last night, I said, "Who is going to watch Owen next week?" Steve's response: "I don't know, I haven't really talked to anyone about it yet." WTF? Does he not get the fucking concept of NEXT WEEK? As in four days from now? He DID talk to one sister about Sam, and she is going to be taking Sam to Bible School with her two kids all next week (they are all three of an age), which I think is great and cool, but then, Sam isn't the one I was worried about.
And last night, this was my night: in addition to work stuff, there was a church picnic at 6:00. I get off at five, so there was a rush to get kids and dessert and such all gathered up. I called Steve and asked him if he could please help me out by coming over after work (he gets off at 8:00) and getting Owen bathed and in bed for me, because after the picnic, Sam had a dress rehearsal for his dance performance. I didn't want to have to deal with O. at the rehearsal, so I prevailed up Eli to watch him for a half hour until Steve got there, and then Steve would take over. We got home at just after 9:00, and Owen had NOT been bathed, and was sitting on the couch hanging out with Steve eating Cheetos. It just annoyed me, because I would not have asked Steve to come help had I known that he wasn't, in fact, going to actually help.
It is frustrating to no end sometimes. It is a vicious cycle, too; I mean, I do a lot. An awful lot. And I didn't plan for the advent of my Owen in my life any more than Steve did, yet somehow I managed to suck it up and deal, and it has not been easy. I take responsibility for making sure Owen has everything he needs, and I am there every night to do all the bathtime/bedtime stuff. I also work really hard at keeping some semblance of a normal routine for him all of the time, because it is important to make sure he gets the sleep, etc...that he needs. I am a huge believer in and practicer of consistency, and it just bugs me that Steve knows this about me and just doesn't DO it. I was so frustrated and tired when I walked in last night, because I had specifically asked him for help, I TOLD him what I needed, and he agrees-but didn't follow through. So I got home and O. did NOT get a bath last night, I did NOT brush his teeth for once, and I just out him to bed in a t-shirt and diaper.
Is the whole situation last night the end of the world? No, not at all; it isn't even a minor glitch. Owen is not going to be irreparably ruined going to bed late one night, nor are his teeth going to rot out from not being brushed one night. But when I look at it as a whole, all of the good things, the small steps toward growing up Steve is attempting to make, are overshadowed by the fact that I specifically asked him for help (last night and regarding the daycare situation), I told him exactly what kind of help I needed, and he STILL can't follow through.
Ugh. No wonder he thinks I am a bitch; I FEEL like a bitch. I know I am sometimes, often, usually, unreasonable, but this doesn't feel unreasonable to me. It feels hurtful, as well as annoying. And it makes me that much more reluctant to ASK him for help, which creates an even greater resentment, and it is a vicious cycle. With hope, he will have started taking the whole thing pretty seriously and will have made daycare arrangements, or else I am going to take Owen to his house at 7:00 on Tuesday morning and say, "Here you go, you told me you were going to make arrangements and you didn't, so I guess you will have to take the day off."