Welcome home.. now go.

The day you take a baby home from the hospital is awesome and terrifying all at the same time.
If you are like most women, you've spent at least the past 10 months preparing for the day. Picking out patterns and cribs. Stocking up on diapers and a&d ointment, and anything else your friends, family, and babycenter told you to.
Me, not so much. I'm talking about my 2nd born, R. I think the 2nd, 3rd, etc pregnancies are different anyway. Of course. You already have a bunch of the baby stuff you need. You're a pro now at knowing everything about that it takes to care for a baby.Or at least you do in comparison to the first time around.
About a month before R was born, I packed up me and J and headed out to Staten Island to stay with my parents until I had R. For several reasons. First, the hospital was in Staten Island, and I was due on Memorial Day week. It made sense. Secondly, unbeknownst to my parents, there were bad guys showing up at my door everyday looking for money from my (then) husband.
This worked out well. My parents have a pool, and it was good to have other adults around during the last few days of pregnancy. Especially me. As I've mentioned before, when I'm pregnant, I'm crazy pregnant.
When we left NJ, I asked my husband to take care of a handful of things: Please take out the living room and playroom carpet. They were gross. 3 dogs gross. Please put together the crib, swing and pack'n'play.
He had a month to take care of these chores (which would take a determined and un-pregnant me about 3 hours).
I had to be induced. R was about a week late, so the doctor scheduled me to come in on the evening of May 28th. John was late getting home, of course. God forbid he make it a point to get home on time for making our appointment to be induced for our son's birth.
After a quick and easy (relatively speaking, of course) delivery, I was happy to spend another day and a half in the hospital while the nurses brought me percocet and coffee. Paradise.
We drove first to my Parent's house to pick up our dogs and have cold cut sandwiches (I wouldn't eat cold cuts while pregnant because I was sure they'd disfigure my unborn child or something bad anyway. Crazy pregnant head)
After that, my sister JN and my parents said they were gonna follow us home and hang out a bit while we settled. Well alright, alright! The more the merrier! More people to hold the baby while i tried to rest.
It was a relief to get back home. It smelled like home. It felt like home. Hubby did a bang up job. Not only did he remove the old carpet, he had also hung a bunch of the picture frames that were still in boxes from our last move, AND re-arranged the furniture in way that made it just a little more open and easy to move around.
My sister JN offered to hold the baby and feed him so I could go upstairs and take a nap.
Problem.
No bed.
No crib.
Ok sure, My bed was still in place where I left it, but it was completely heaped up with papers and boxes and garbage. Apparently John got to cleaning house at some point, and then just stopped. Just like that. When I tell you it was PILES of garbage, I am not exaggerating. Nausiating.
After this discovery I peeked into the "nursery". Nothing had been done. Nothing.
Garbage in my room, boxes in R's. Faaaaaantastic.

Where the fuck do I begin?
I guess I begin with a nap on the couch.
Seriously? Yup. No bed. No crib. and the best part of it all is that he's acting like it's completley ok. AAANNNDDD is looking for his pat on the back for all the work he has done.
No joke.
He got all mad when I let him know how pissed I was about the bedroom situations. He acted mad that I was not more grateful and gracious about hanging pictures up on the living room walls.
You can't make this stuff up.
How did I not pack my bags that day and leave? How did I stay another 7 months?
Well, I guess I have no idea. Babies, and bills and dogs and bill collectors. It’s really easy to look at a sob story on Dr Phil and want to slap a lady in the face for sticking around in a terrible situation.
It’s another thing entirely to pick yourself up and pack up you and your kids and dogs and few things that you “need” and just go. Shit ain’t easy.