I get no respect

I would just like to state for the record that I am feeling very much underappreciated right now. Here's why:

My husband works. A lot. This is a good thing. Work pays money. Money pays bills. World keeps spinning. Fine.

I work. A lot. Also a good thing. Work pays (some) money. Great.

This wouldn't ordinarily sound like a problem, but that's where you're wrong.

He has this weird schedule thing. He runs on his own sweet time, and no one and nothing can do anything about it. He likes to stay up late. He likes to sleep in late. No matter what his schedule is, that's what he wants to do.

For example:

Right now, there is an assload of work to be done at his workplace. Tons of overtime, has to work all weekend, can't make my school Christmas party, have to leave later for Christmas vacation assload of work. He works late every night. That's fine. Work needs doing, we need paying, all is well.

Last night, he came home from work, say, nine-ish. That's not too bad. Missed dinner, kids all asleep, but whatever. But then he stayed up until TWO IN THE MORNING on the computer. Came to bed at 2. I get up at 4. He was *supposed* to get up at 5. Was still sleeping at 7 when I called home. Just now walked in the door at 9:30. Again, hasn't seen the kids in two days now. Haven't had a meal as a family in days. Doesn't seem to bother him in the least.

In my head, he does this on purpose because he doesn't want to spend time with me and the kids. He cares more about his sleep and doing his own thing than about being a part of our family. Now, I know that technically that's not the case, or at least that's the least charitable viewpoint. I think I'm just jealous. I don't have that kind of freedom. If I'm not here, the family falls apart. I can't just decide to sleep in when I feel like it. I can't just do what I feel like, trusting that everyone else will take care of everything. I'm not responsible for only myself. I'm responsible for three of us, and everything I do is dependent on others. I guess I'm just envious of his freedom.

That, or I'm pissed because he's irresponsible and I wish he would just buck up and shoulder some of the responsibilities of child-rearing, getting up on time, coming home on time, making time for his kids, coming home before I'm too tired to even see straight, much less carry on an intelligent conversation or think about sex, getting up on a Saturday morning to share our ritual pancakes...

Or (secret option C) maybe I have some raging PMDD right now, ready to slit throats and shoot laser beams at the drop of a hat. I have been on razor's edge all day - I just finally figured it out tonight when I sat down with a calendar and did some counting.

And you know what the serious bitch of this whole thing is? I love him so much. In spite of the whatever. I don't care. I still get that feeling whenever he walks in the door, no matter how late it is. And that makes up for a lot of things.