I have a 3-year-old at home all the time (aside from six hours at playschool across two days) and a five-year-old in school. My house is never perfect (most days it’s relatively tidy) but everyone gets fed and clothed and is happy, accept my husband that is. This week my daughter has been off with a sick bug, she was sick four times overnight on Tuesday and woke up several times in addition to that. Yesterday I was exhausted and felt like a zombie, I did things round the house like scraping sick off of pillow cases and sheets so they could be washed, detailing the sick bin, loading the dishwasher and running the vaccum round etc. This morning husband is downstairs before work passively aggressively slamming around extra noisily as he fills the dishwasher from last nights evening meal before he goes to work, it’s two minutes past seven, I say to him to leave it because I can get it all done today and he starts saying I’ve got half an hour before work I’m doing it, walks past me in the hall and glares at me like I am something on the bottom of his shoe. He goes upstairs to get dressed and shirtly asks if I have seen any boxers (there aren’t any in his wardrobe) I go and get some from the clean pile on top of the tumble drier, he takes them off me without a word still in a major huff, “you’re welcome” I say “thanks” he says sarcastically. Then asks me for a shirt, he is standing in front of about six shirt size hung up in front of him, but these aren’t the right shirts! He doesn’t have a clean shirt that’s right! One of them is pink! He can’t be expected to wear a pink shirt to an important meeting, I say could you not have mentioned that yesterday? He starts muttering about the frustration of not having clean boxers in the draw and the right shirt. I flip, at this point, I’m exhausted I haven’t even had time for a shower for about three days, I smell, I think he should put on the clean pink shirt be happy with the cleaner boxers that were shocking on top of the tumble drier instead of in his drawer and just shut the f**k up. We have a row and in a moment of unbridled rage I shout that he is “crazy” the children are in ear shot, and oh how he clings to this comment “how dare” I say that in front of the children, which yeah I guess he is right but I feel like there’s a lot worse I could have called him. I don’t know if I’m being unreasonable. Yes domestic standards could be better, but this is not a normal week and we have two young children, it is so rare that I get a decent nights sleep, literally as soon as I wake in the morning he expects me to jump into action like a robotic housework droid.