Having a "full of fiery hate" kind of a week

No. 1 Fiery Hatred: My stepmother. She and I have never been close; we will never be close. My tolerance of her growing up was based 100% on wanting my dad to be happy / not be alone after my mom passed away. She used to be a heinous bitch (she once scrubbed all of the "kids' height" marks off of the wall that my mother had made and labeled for my brother and me growing up "because her mother was coming over and she wanted the house to be clean"), and in recent years has been downgraded to merely INCREDIBLY IRRITATING due to finally taking her goddamn medication. Her daughter has no plans to have kids, so she has decided to glomp onto my son to live out her grandmotherly fantasies, in complete disregard for our lack of a relationship / my lack of interest in her advice or any involvement whatsoever in my life. ("You know, you should really--" SHUT UP, NO ONE CARES WHAT YOU THINK. "Well, when [her daughter] was a baby--" SHUT UP. LITERALLY. NO ONE. CARES. "Once I retire, I'm gonna come over all the time to help you with the baby--" LIKE HELL YOU ARE, YOU CRAZY BITCH.)

No. 2 Fiery Hatred: The dog. It's not her fault. She's a wonderful dog. I simply do not want to have a dog. I never wanted one, but my husband did, and I'd read that pets can be helpful to people who struggle with depression, so I figured it was worth it. Now that I'm home alone with her and a toddler all day, I fantasize about gifting her to another loving home where she will be forever happy and I will never again have to pick her hair off of EVERYTHING IN THE GODDAMN HOUSE, especially the baby's toys / highchair / hands / face / genitals / toothbrush / food. She's a burden I resent more every day, always underfoot, always needing to go out right when I'm in the middle of something that already requires three hands, always eating the baby's food of off anything she can reach before she gets caught. I know I'm a bad person for hating a dog, but here we are.

Honorary Mentions:

My husband. I love him and I think we typically make a great team, but all the little things are really grating on me at the moment. The kid has an infection in the diaper area, so he needs an antibiotic ointment with each diaper change. Husband has stopped doing any diaper changes "because he hasn't done the medication and doesn't want to do it wrong, so I'd better handle it." LOL WUT?

And finally, my son. I love him to the moon and back, every single day, but FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, HOLD THE FUCK STILL UNTIL THE DIAPER CHANGE HAS COME TO A COMPLETE STOP. I know it's normal, but also having to put this ointment on while he kicks and rolls and wails is a new level of torture. I'm just like: you've gotten your diaper changed hundreds of times in your lifetime, multiple times per day, every single day, IT WILL BE OVER IN TWO MINUTES AND YOU KNOW IT, STOP BEING A LITTLE TURD.

Alright, thank you so much if you've made it this far (or even if you haven't), it helps so much to let off steam somewhere. This sub and all you ladies are awesome sauce.