I totally put it on Twitter, too.
Normally, I wouldn't care - but for once just once, I wanted the time to watch My Kitchen Rules, as it screened on TV.
Some ME time! Me time that isn't just another term for sleep. Because sleep is not really me time - I dream about what I need to do the next day for god's sake!
The Guru get's endless time to himself. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Sunday nights he logs on to his computer and isn't heard from again for the rest of the night.
So I tend to get a bit crank-tastic when, for a change, everything has gone to schedule and I can sit on the couch and watch MY program. By myself. Without interruption.
Needless to say, it didn't quite work out.
When Miss 3 decided she wasn't, in fact, tired at all and wanted to stay awake, pull all her toys out and then turn into the whinging whinger from whinge-town, I got a bit twitchy. And I turned off the TV. I put her back to bed. I turned the TV back on.
Repeat this cycle for 20 minutes. Add the fact that 50% of the parenting back-up is otherwise occupied, stir in threenager tantrum and I'd had enough.
I didn't yell, I didn't freak out (well, other than on Twitter). I put her back to bed.
And then I went to my own bed to cry. Because if I don't cry, I'll fucking scream.
For some reason, down time for me isn't doable. But down time is all The Guru seems to get.
It pisses me off.
And it pisses me off more because we've talked about it a thousand times. He knows how I feel. He knows.
Its times like this I want to microwave his hard drive.
