Rugby?? What’s that??

Never, ever mess with me when I have PMS.  And I mean never.

Hubby did this weekend, much to his demise.  (and ultimately mine too) 

This is how it went:

• 3 sick children, a long Friday night.
• hubby tries for 3 minutes to feed the girls breakfast and declares himself irritated.  (yes dear, and who do you think does all the feeding normally anyway??)
• I wanted to invite friends over for supper on Sat night, hubby then informs me that he is inviting his single friend over to watch the rugby and have a braai. (WTF??)
• a kiddies party from hell, where Daniel proceeded to take his clothes off and jump on the net over the pool. 
• some harsh whispering back home so as not to upset children
• Daniel woke up miserable from his nap with a fever, so I loaded all 3 children in the car, buggered off, dumped the girls with my mother and took D to Durbanville Medi Clinic to see a doctor.  All this whilst darling dearest piece of shit husband watches rugby in peace and quiet at home.  (he offered halfheartedly to look after the girls, but I shudder to think)
• mission to chemist to spend R500 on tonsillitis medicine and then to shops to buy a wide array of foods D MIGHT eat

I then decided to stay with my mom until I had calmed down, which I hadn’t by 20h00 and the kids needed to get to bed, so off home we went again. 

Aaarghh, why do I have to be a grownup?  I could quite easily have stayed at my mom’s house just to punish him in some childish way and also just to get a break, but anyway.

What I don’t understand is that this man is fantastic with Daniel, but for some reason cannot cope with the girls and everything is an effing mission when it comes to them.

Oh, and then he burnt their food I was cooking when I tried to take a shower yesterday morning.  How difficult can it be to stir?

I mean, come on, get over yourself!!

Roll on period, I like my family intact..