Credit and debit childcare

Before I start this, let me say I think my husband is one of the Good Guys (as evidenced by this poem I wrote, blimey I must have been feeling very loving that day). He has just helped bath the girls and even put the toddler to bed tonight so frankly I can't really complain; but today's events (and many many other weekends like this one) have led to ask this question: do you think credit and debit is the norm where looking after the kids is concerned?

I need to know. One of you takes them for a bit while you get on with something (like cleaning, laundry, planning your escape, you know normal stuff) and then you take them for a bit (while they relax, go to the pub, do something FOR THEM). You build up some 'perfect parent' points and get a night out or whatever and so it goes on. Or along those lines. I think it's ok, and quite normal, but sometimes, just occasionally it really winds me up.

Take today as a random example. This morning I went up to the park to stomp around in the mud doing press ups, sit ups, burpees (don't ask) and all manner of other hideous exercise that tested my 'character'. This 'me time' took me one hour precisely, with a further 20 mins to wash the mud off in the shower. I might add that the toddler accompanied me in the bathroom because him indoors needed 'a break' from her. (Maybe you can see where this is going).

Now frankly I'd rather spend that precious hour galivanting with Robert Downey Jnr (have you seen Sherlock Holmes? he is HOT), or having a lie in, or sleeping, or staying in bed. On my own. You get the picture. But I'm exercising because I just know it'll make me feel better (something to do with the endorphins and the messed up chemicals in my brain apparantly).

So I am then due to take the girls to my friend's house, she has a 7 week old baby, and my visit is overdue, by about 7 weeks. It's lunchtime ish, which is not ideal with feeding, naps etc. But I thought well at least him indoors said he'd come along too, so that'll be nice. Until 3 minutes before take off. Suddenly it was all too much (presumably the hour of Daddy daycare had done him in completely). He needed to go to the pub, needed a Sunday lunch, needed a bloody pint, in front of the effing football.

The upshot is we had a lovely visit, if you discount the frantic attempts to keep the toddler from giving the 7 week old baby a healthy cuddle that would have suffocated her, refereeing playtime with my friends' 3 year old and trying to feed the baby and settle her afterwards.

But it was the drive home that was akin to a date with Satan in the depths of Hades. I am now only allowed to listen ONE sodding track on Fruity Tunes, not the whole two I was allowed before.

So for a 40 minute journey I am singing the same bloody song, tears are threatened and delivered when I tried to move on to track 2. She then got herself out of her car seat harness (right I gave birth to Houdini), and of course as luck would have it, there's a huge amount of traffic. On a Sunday for Christ's sake! How unlucky is that?

I guess the point I'm making here is that I'd never dream of just saying "oh you know what I actually can't be arsed with being Mummy today, do you mind if I nip off to Harvey Nicks", why would I I am their mum, it's my job to be there. But after having them for all of a hour he thinks that's okay, in fact more than just OK, it's actually his RIGHT, he DESERVES it.

I don't hate him for it, I'm not even that annoyed (anymore), I just find it curious that in this day and age when everything is equal (and it generally is in our house), this attitude about the Mum having a default position of doing pretty much everything still pervades. I work hard all week, race home to put the girls to bed, get up at oh god o'clock every morning, and the weekend I have a different kind of work. I'm not saying I don't love being with them, because I do. But I just wish it was more of a shared experience sometimes.

And that occasionally he'd change one of the really offensive nappies, particularly on days when I have been thrown up on 5 times.

To any daddy bloggers reading, who think I am a heartless cruel cow who fails to understand the Y chromosome. Please ignore this rant.

To anyone who feels I just need to get over myself, then yes, you're probably right.

To any other mums like me (hopefully there are some), just send me a bit of virtual cameraderie and tell me I'm not alone.

Ok, rant over, he's one of the good guys afterall. Life is good. Just not so good today.

Oh and by the way, another reason for this mood I'm in? It smells like something has died in my living room and I can't bloody find it. I thought it might have been the cat, but she's since shown up, so options are a) a dead mouse courtesy of the cat, b) an old nappy that has been lost (urghhh) or c) I hate to think what could be worse than that.

BUT this week will be good and you know why Because Mad Men is back on telly! Hurrah!