What happened to us?

The sun is shining, the birds are singing and I want to scream my head off. It is not yet 10am. Wee bunny has been fed and watered - by me - and has taken a massive dump. But the nappy has managed to come off so said dumpage is now all over him, his sleepsuit and the nappy. This is no job for the meek. I manage to strip him and plonk him in the bath. I am hosing him down, all the while he yells like I have set the poor little chap on fire. I meanwhile am covered in stale crap, struggling to hold the bunny up in one hand, a shower hose in the other and navigate my way through his nooks and crannies to clear the debris that has welded itself to every available surface of his bum. I think he is clean and lift him out. Yeooooooowww. Something goes in my back. Bunny is howling still and I shush him as I dry him, patting his baby soft skin and noticing that all the shit has not come off and is now on the towel. I wipe his arse, slap on some cream, nappy and dress and him, stopping to let his fluffy hair caress my face and then return to clean the bath/my hands, dump the dump in the bin and then place the clothes in a nuclear site to be eradicated - I mean, in the washbasket.

Husband surfaces. Makes his weird bird seed and meat so-uncooked-it-is -still-breathing concoction that will be his days sustenance. I'm all right Jack is his attitude. I hate him. I hit the shower and try not to cry. My life feels like an endless well of poo and dishes and washing and bath times and I want MORE THAN THIS!!! I dream of running away with some obscenely young boy who looks like Mark Ronson with the wit of Eddie Izzard and the money of Donald Trump. Husband tries briefly to be understanding but returns to his cook-athon leaving wee bunny to endless Bob the fecking builder repeats. I try to dress. Notice the dimpling and curves were once taut flesh stood. Full of self loathing I reach for something to wear. Husband and I have had no conversation today whatsoever. No laughs. Breakfast together? Don't make me laugh - he is always so tired after his long bar shifts that he has no energy for me or the wee bunny. Oh but energy for the gym. Husband has managed to give wee bunny a small cup from the bathroom - a dirty old playtime cup no less - which wee bunny drinks from and then spills over himself. Enraged I get husband to dress wee bunny again - as his clothes are saturated. Husband thinks I am insane and tells me to de stress. It is not husband who spends every waking hour worrying about money and where the next job is coming from. It is not husband who spends two hours making the wee bunny healthy chilli beef for his lunch today and who has to make sure wee bunny has wipes/nappies/food/milk/clean clothes etc etc. I hate him with every bone in my body for having a life. We argue about trivial stuff. These daily verbal jousts exhaust me and wind me into a frenzy. The dishes are left for me to do - he claims they are mine and I scream that they are all dishes from the child's breakfast. He sarcastically tells me maybe I need a lie down. His goading eroding any confidence I have left in myself and making my blood boil. Is the bunny's bag ready, he snaps. Of course it is - all packed, all ready as my life is one only designed to clean up everyone else's shit and make sure everyone else is good to go. What about me? Where did my life go? My hopes, my passion for my work? My sense of goddamn self?

He slams out. The wee bunny follows, trundling along, his every step melting my heart. A sinking feeling grows in the pit of my stomach as I note we haven't kissed goodbye once this week. We're did we go husband? The 'us' in all of this. No longer a team we rant and rage and bully and hate and slowly tear us to shreds. It is all about my unfulfilled needs and your fucking job that gives us no semblance of a normal life. Where do we go from here I wonder? Because I can't live like this forever.