Sometimes I wish you’d do more than say I should cut myself some slack. With just a few weeks left on this pregnancy, NOTHING is ready for a baby. And I can’t climb ladders, hang pictures, or clean like I used to. And now, I’m sick as a dog with bronchitis. I’m super stressed.

When you get sick, you lay in the bed. And I take care of you and the kids. I bring you Gatorade and soup. And I don’t expect a thing out of you. And you watch Netflix and sleep.

But let me go down, I’m still up with the kids at 2 am. I’m still the one who hasn’t showered. I’m so desperate for you to get home from being out. Just take these kids, PLEASE. I need a freaking hot shower for the first time in days because I have a prenatal tomorrow. And I stink. And I need the steam to help with the cough.

Normally, I can push through. Moms don’t get time off. Sick leave. Nothing. Maybe it’s being so far along. Maybe it’s the fact that the house isn’t just a wreck, but actually filthy. Seriously, the boys bathroom stinks so bad I could gag. And I’m SICK of you saying it’s all fine. This isn’t a frat house despite being the only female in it. Or maybe it’s the clothes of yours you promised you’d put away that are still sitting on the couch two days later.

My throat is screaming. Coughing makes my pregnant belly ache. Currently, I’m sweating. Like cold sweating. I feel like shit. And I’m worried about the baby.

Sometimes, I want to say screw it. I know he’s missed two weeks of his extracurricular because of sickness. The same one he’s now given me. The one I’ve dealt with on no sleep. But I need you to come home. I need some help with the chores. Honestly, I don’t care if y’all just sit on the couch and order pizza. If someone will just let me lay down or shower.

I want to cry. But it hurts to.

I’m hormonal. And pissy. I’m sick. I’m angry I’m sick. I’m angry and worried it might be strep or the flu. I’m worried what it eating is doing to our unborn child. And honestly, I can’t keep this house and meals and toys and everything together.

I love my little guy but seriously, he’s run me ragged. He needs me to do everything. And I just can’t seem To push through.

Could you just get home? Please. I need some

Help here. And don’t discount how I feel. Don’t discount how the house is or how badly I just need a break. I didn’t need a major illness to take me down, but you’ve got two days off this weekend.

You’re it, dude.