Marc and I had a great day Friday night. A good Saturday. A somewhat shitty Sunday. (It doesn't help when he wakes you up a few times in the middle of the night because of his drinking. I've told him a million times to not talk to me when he's drunk and I am asleep, but he can't seem to stop. Last night he also turned on the light.) I sleep less than him, I do more than him around the house, and I get almost no time for myself. Sundays he can't stay at home. For probably his entire adult life he has gotten drunk on Sunday afternoons. For a time I did it with him. Then we worked out our patterns. Today like every Sunday he gets ancy, agitated when it comes about 1:30-2 pm. Today it was because June woke up around 2, which she does and has been doing for awhile but he's never here and so doesn't know that. When he is here he plays video games- that's his way to unwind. Somehow he gets angry at me over petty stuff the he eventually asks what my plans are. Today, like nearly every Sunday, I tell him to go. I tell him to go because it's so much more peaceful without him here, without his anger here. But it wears on me. I have the kids, I do laundry, I set up the new bed rails for June, j feed them both (twice), diaper them, keep them happy and loved. He comes home tipsy, and it's at the mayhem hour, and I don't have time to entertain a tipsy person. I don't have time for him. He starts his miserable rant and I am like, "I'm not miserable, I am tired." Because even earlier in the day I made the coffee, the smoothie, I took June to Thinkery, old navy to return stuff, I nirsded frank, I don't fucking stop. I don't get a chance to breath. The best chance I get is when he's out of the house and maybe one of them is asleep. So them we bicker back and forth like always and he says to me, "you don't do anything." In response to me saying that a little gratitude for all I do would be nice. What he meant was that on Sundays before the kids came into our lives "I didnt do anything". Like that time to myself didn't count because I didn't go get drunk wth him. I try not to fight but this is eye opening. His time is important but my time and my life aren't. It's bullshit. I put the kids to bed at least once a week by myself- which at this age is time consuming and tiring- so he can go out. He plays tennis which is about a three hour ordeal, nearly every weekend. And then he's gone Sunday afternoons. He gets a night out, an afternoon off, and a morning off all to himself nearly every weekend. He says you don't do anything. When the hell can i? I guess Saturday afternoons it is. That's what I am going to have to ask for because otherwise we won't have a single time when we are all together as a family. That leaves us with whatever morning we can scramble to have when he's not playing tennis. Oh and the other piece of BS about all this... he can just spur of the moment say, "I'm going out". I have to ask for this shit days ahead and deal with wrath of resentment because he's going to have the kids all to himself, and according to him, "you can't do anything with both of them." Yet some how he's cool wth me running errands with both of them? His answer to that... "because you're their mother." All this to say, feminism can only go so far. I can't change society in my own home. Men need role models to see how it can be done and apparently they can't look to women on how it was done. He does a lot more than the generation before, he truly does, but there are limits. I hope we can raise a future generation who does more than their parents did. Because at least they see their dad changing diapers and folding clothes. But apparently there are still some things men can't do- like take a two year old and a three month old out in public by themselves.