Gripe.

I wondered how long it would take before I'd start griping on my blog about this and that. It only took, what, four posts? So, my gripe is as usual about my home life. Funny how the people you love most are the ones that make you the nuttiest.

So, my husband has been talking a lot about providing me more time to write more on the weekends. In other words, the idea is that he'll take over more of the childcare (which I do the bulk of) and allow me to write some more. Which is great. As a published writer, I don't want to get completely out of practice, and I thrive when I have time to write. But so far, my husband's promises have been mostly talk. And when I do get time to write, it's not nearly as much as I give him to tackle his own pursuits, you know, like sleeping 'til noon at least one day on the weekend.

So I'm frustrated. I feel like I not only take care of all the cooking and most of the cleaning, but sometimes I feel like I have two kids instead of one. They both complain when I ask them to help me out; only I'm able to convince one of them (my son) to do give me a hand a lot more easily than I am the other.

Anyway, it's just irritating. But it's something that's been a constant battle since our little boy was born. I suspect that, until our son is able to take on some household chores, it will continue to be a battle. Then we'll find something else because that's what happens when you live with someone. There's always something to argue about and, chances are that unless that thing goes away, it's the same thing over and over.

But at least it's predictable.