Clueless

I honestly don't know how J-Fed does it. He makes being a sh*t look so damn easy.

Take today for example. It started with his usual not-so-good morning phone call. He places one of these about the same time every day. He didn't miss a beat. Of course, neither did I. The first couple of calls I ignored, as I was far too busy to deal with his pointless needling.

Lucky for him, his fourth call came when I needed a break from my daily doldrums.

"Hey. What's going on tonight?" he asked.

Let's see. I was going to finish up work and head on over to the dayspa. There, I
planned on getting a manicure, a pedicure, a massage and some highlights while sipping on
a cold glass of chardonnay. What the hell did he think was going on tonight?

Let's see from 5 to 5:30 I'd feed both kids. Then I'd feed the dogs. Then I'd let the
dogs out to go to the bathroom. Then I'd get daughter dressed for dance. Then I'd get
the baby cleaned up from daycare and dress her too. Then I'd hop in my car and fight
rush hour traffic to make it to the dance studio on, all after a long day of work.

That's what *I* had on tap tonight.

"I'm not sure what you mean," I said. Was he sending me some sort of subliminal message
to imply that he was going to lend a helping hand? Mmmmmm, not so much.

"I mean, what time is her dance class?" he snapped back.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. If only to be a spectator in a contact sport... Talk about having the life. I'm not saying he didn't give his all when it came to the kids, but there were definitely areas where he could give a whole lot more. Of course, if I were to point that out, he'd remind me that this is why we're no longer married, because nothing he ever did was good enough.