I asked dp to have James for a bit this morning as I didn't get to sleep til almost 4am and was up at 8.30 with J, he had him for exactly half an hour before James is screaming like he's being murdered and dp is muttering "shut up!" at him rattily.
So I come downstairs and he's got him on the changing mat in a cold room, stripped naked because he's done an explosive poo, he's covered in goosepimples and then I see dp has him lying on a couple of wetwipes- I suppose in case poo gets on the wipe clean changing mat Honestly it's like he has no empathy at all, idiot. So of course I end up taking over, as usual.
This mornings shenanigans happened because dp was trying to watch back to back reruns of scrapheap challenge and eat his own breakfast before changing or feeding baby. He obviously is still putting himself first in the pecking order, which as we all know doesn't quite work. The only thing I do before seeing to James in the morning is go to the loo, and that's only because my bladder ain't what it used to be!
The thing is, I hardly ever leave J with dp now because he has so little patience and waits for me to administer orders on what he should do with him (for example he'll have him sat on his knee forever more while they both get fed up and ratty, until I suggest he puts him in his bouncy chair and show him some toys) as if to say "he's your baby, you should really be doing this"
I have no idea what's going to happen when I go back to work, if I can'tleave him for 30 minutes with his own father. I'm so depressed about the thought of going back to work. I can't bear it, I have to find a way to stay home.