This is probably v sad and childish, but I feel like I've spent the week working (FT job, 3 days working from home), cleaning on my breaks on the days I'm at home, looking after toddler DS, planning meals, cooking, washing up...
DH's two brothers have been here for the weekend. I had to buy an airbed for them to sleep on and some bedding. I made their beds up while they were at the pub. This morning I washed up the mammoth debris from last night's dinner, finished cooking breakfast (DH had to take DS, who was whining and wanted Daddy) and then washed up again.
They're lovely lads and good company, but they did not so much as offer to wash up, drank an extra two bottles of our wine once DH and I were in bed, and spilled some (red, of course).
DS has been tantrumming all day (if he was old enough to speak, I'd say we weren't on speaking terms), and Christmas shopping was a disaster.
DH does do his bit, and I made the decision that he should be able to go and and spend some time with his brothers, since he doesn't see them much. And part of me feels like a small whiny child that what I actually want is an all-singing, all-dancing thank you.
But I do!