I wasn't going to post today. I was feeling like utter shit. But I've dragged myself for a wet fish slap.
I lost it with both DP and O last night. I just started screaming that I couldn't do it any more that woke the fucking cunt up alright. I cried and cried and fucking cried some more.
O woke up when we went to bed. I spent 3.5 hours fucking settling him. I closed my eyes. He woke up. It was 4am by this point. I just lost it.
DP had already fucked off downstairs because I woke him for snoring as it was keeping O awake. I never even told him to go downstairs, but it left me alone dealing with a baby who wouldn't fucking sleep, but wouldn't be put fucking down either.
The problem? His swaddle was in the wash. Of course, it would have been washed and dried by the time he woke, if DP had done what I had asked at 9pm. Which was to put the swaddle on to wash. I think that was what sent me over the edge, knowing that his failure to do one simple thing meant that I would be up all fucking night. Why should I a) have to do everything myself and b) tell him to wash the fucking thing - surely that is obvious?
Urghhhhh. I am not having a repeat of last night. Ever. I feel dead inside today.
It wasn't O's fault, but I just couldn't stay up all fucking night. He finally went to sleep at 4.30, on me, and then woke frequently til 7.
You can guess how I feel about that. 
Sorry.