It's my birthday. It's my birthday, and I'm spending it at home alone, listening to my baby scream her head off because when she started getting teeth she seemed to revert back to her newborn "let's see how loud I can scream" days. Luckily, I'm on zoloft. So, I'm better equipped to handle it now. It still isn't easy, and I'd still hoped I'd get a day off.

I wouldn't be so upset if my partner hadn't requested his birthday off. See, his birthday was the 5th. That week had been rough with a capital r. So, he asked for it off. He wanted a day off. That was all he wanted for his birthday. So, he got his day off.

I wanted a day off, too. Part of me hoped he'd be smart enough to ask for my birthday off. Part of me hoped that I could sleep in today, that he would take care of the baby, and the dog, and the dishes. Maybe i was hoping for too much. But... I do so much. We do so much. Being a stay at home parent feels like a thankless job sometimes. I clean, I cook, I do the shopping, I take care of the baby and the dog, and that's all before lunch. I, also, make sure my partner's emotional needs are met, and keep track of the bills and what we need for the house and the money and appointments and birthdays and gifts for holidays. I just wanted one day. Just one day off.

And today I sit here. On my birthday. Listening to her cry. Feeding her for the hundredth time. Watching Netflix while staring at the pile of dishes I need to wash, and the floor my dog is ruining. Just one day.

He's not a bad partner. He really isn't. I think he just doesn't always think. He got me a wonderful present, and he let me pick out a cake. He just doesn't think all the time. He didn't understand why I was mad that he didn't ask for it off. I was just mad because I haven't had a day off in 5 1/2 months, and he's had several.

Sorry. I just needed to vent