That’s it.

Someone’s got to go.

Either me. Or him.

The honeymoon phase of spending more time with Dadisodes due to unemployment is officially over.  O-vah.

Sure it was nice having him around during breakfast, together as a family.  Me whipping up eggs and banana pancakes in the kitchen, with Dadisodes and Babisodes sounding out words in the background.  Then still having him around for lunch, and dinner.

It was like vacation…that apparently…isn’t ending.

Yesterday as I rolled out of bed I discovered over a week’s worth of laundry and dishes piled mile high.  Right beside the dust and clutter all reaching epic proportions.  All of it created much sooner than usual. All waiting for moi.

My home is quickly resembling a bachelor pad. No. Wait. It’s actually looking like Dadisodes’ apartment… pre-marriage!

*whimpers*

You scoff, but you have no idea.  Dude didn’t even have furniture. Swear.

And Babisodes?  Don’t even get me started.

Here’s a glimpse of the madness an added parent in the afternoon creates:

Me: (Preparing lunch) Babisodes, do not get yourself a sugar cookie without asking.  You cannot have one until AFTER dinner.  They’re for dessert.

Babisodes: But daddy said he would share one with me now!

Me: (Oh yea, he’s home.)

Later that evening

Dadisodes: Babisodes, what do you think you’re doing?  You are not allowed to have another sugar cookie!

Babisodes: But mommy said I could haf one after dinner!

Poor kid.

She is so confused.  Anything resembling a routine is gone.  She does not understand why her father is suddenly home all the time, but leaves every now and then for an interview or meeting.  Drops her off at preschool, but doesn’t pick her up.  Puts her down for naptime, but isn’t there when she wakes up. She’s never sure if he’s coming or going. It’s reached the point where she no longer wants to sleep anymore.  As in, ever.

She cried for the first time ever in preschool last week. When her teacher asked her why she was so upset she said, “Because I miss my daddy.”

*sigh*

The drama, filth, and lack of sleep are starting to get to me, too. I feel like I’m raising two teens. And frankly, I’m not even prepared for one.

Srsly, some1 needs to wrk. TSTB.*

(*Text message translation- Seriously, someone needs to work. The sooner the better.)