The Itsy Bitsy Pider

Do you like tripping over Diapers.com, Ebay and Gap boxes and then eating a spider web before walking into your house? I don't.

Meesh went out to dinner last night. We fed the kids. We bathed the kids. Night time dipes, pajamas, baby massage for the baby, some Ipad VIVEOS for Evvy (she calls videos VIVEOS which I like very much, however what I don't like very much is the Ipad, originally gifted to me for my birthday and shortly thereafter discovered by Evvy who can now launch a missile from it...that said we are thanking all the Gods that she has lost interest in Barney and moved on to Dora and a VIVEO of a Kate Gosselin-ish mom singing The Itsy Bitsy Spider in a grotesque, high school theater-y kind of way).

Then Meesh leaves for dinner at 7:45 and that baby, beautiful and chin-dimply as she is, waits (I know she has decided that 15 minutes is long enough for me to settle onto the couch and short enough for me to not say fuck off when she starts screaming horror film style). I do check ins. She laughs in my face. I try rocking her back to sleep. I can hear her thoughts, like Sookie Stackhouse, and they go like this: "seriously, you dumb fuck? you ain't gonna get my ass back to sleep so long as you keep me in this room muthafucka..." (sidenote sally: Meesh has read in a million books that it is not good to remove the child from the room because it establishes yada yada yada..) But Meesh out to dinner bitches...so the baby is coming out the room right quick.

As I cross the threshold from baby room to hallway she falls asleep. So pretty. So little. So innocent. As a test I step back into the baby's room. She goes into a Mariah Carey octave scream...the one where Mariah has to hold one of her ears.

I dim the lights. We sit on the couch. She is so asleep that if a friend popped over they would say "She's been asleep for a long time huh?"

When I feel confident enough to remove her from my arms which have lost circulation, I prepare a makeshift bed for her in our bedroom. I'm not stupid enough to bring her back into that evil, awful dungeon of hers. And...she...sleeps.

I turn on HBO. It is the Gloria Steinem documentary. I watch and learn. Brilliant woman, that Gloria Steinem. Brilliant life she has lived. I wait for the part where she talks about her kids. She didn't have any. In a jealous rage I burn Meesh's bras. J to the K.

Meesh comes home all adult and kick-in-her-steppy. Asks how it went? I say "when the boob's away the cat will play." (I said this in Meesh And The Belly, but without a nursable teet, I am as useless as everything in a hoarder's house).

Meesh goes to sleep. I, in a sick reversal of fortune, am wide awake. I try reading. I watch the Ricky Gervais episode of Curb. Finally tired enough to go to sleep I get in our bed. Me, two dogs, the baby and Meesh. And a sound machine A.K.A. waterboarding.

I get out of bed. Prepare a makeshift bed for myself on the couch. Eyes close. They pop open when a spider bites me. I kill it. I break out in a rash. I itch myself like a heroin addict. I go to the medicine cabinet and pop a Benadryl. In time I stop itching. I am feeling woozy. I think the Benadryl will combat the sound machine, two dogs and baby. I walk into our bedroom and trip over the Glider which is piled sky high with boxes from Diapers.com, Ebay and Gap.