My husband needs a babysitter

Sometimes I think that if I died, my husband would lose custody of our children due to negligence. Seriously. Mark watches the kids by himself only one day a week. I work on Fridays and he has the day off. Well, yesterday was a tough day for them. I stopped in for lunch, at which time India was making a beeline for the kitchen door. Mind you, both kids are still in their pajamas. I remind him he needs to put the babygate up, and he tells me he thinks she’s old enough to play outside by herself. She’s ONE! And still puts everything in her mouth. I give him an enthusiastic lecture about how she is not, in fact, old enough to play by herself, even in a fenced-in yard. Then I ask what he fed her for lunch, and he tells me: goldfish crackers, a piece of bread, and cereal. UGH! I remind him that she needs a balanced diet, protein, veggies, etc. And I leave for work feeling like I need to call a babysitter for my husband.

I come home around five, and find both kids in the living room in their diapers. Mark tells me the afternoon saga. He put both kids down for their naps wearing only diapers. Mistake number one. (are you guessing what happened??) Then he went out to the garage office to do some work, and let me know the he turned the monitor on periodically to check on the kids. Periodically?? Hello? Anyways, of course, the last time he checked he hears India screaming bloody murder. He goes back into the house and finds Jafta awake, in the living room, naked. He goes into India’s room and finds that she has pooped and removed her diaper, and is now covered in poop. The crib, sheets, bumper . . . poop everywhere. Mark exclaims, “India pooped in her bed” and he says he thought he heard Jafta say, “me too”. He cleans up India’s room and then decides to inspect Jafta’s, and also finds that Jafta pooped during his nap and then removed his diaper. Now, Jafta is pretty much potty trained, so who knows how long he was yelling for daddy before Mark decided to turn on the monitor.

So of course when I show up, I have to help clean this up, not to mention the mess of the day, and cook dinner, because heaven forbid Mark spend the kid’s naptime recovering the house or prepping dinner. All of this makes us totally late for our evening plans, and I am fuming.

Later in the evening, after the kids are sleeping we sit down to watch some TiVo and he informs me that he’s already watched 30 Rock, our favorite show. When? I ask. Well looks like he spent the morning watching an adult sitcom in front of the kids.

Nice.