It's Like Sex...I've Tried Every Position

It is saturday and I just made my first I'm-going-to-lose-my-shit call to Meesh.  I have been up since, well, last night.  I couldn't sleep.  I heard noises outside.  The same noises I had heard before Evvy entered the world but now my hearing is supersonic (are you singing the JJ Fad song?  I am).  I'm like a fucking x-man:  I can hear conversations miles away and lift trucks and aircraft.  Having a baby has really given me some odd spider bite if you know what I mean.

So, the noises pulled me out of bed every half hour.  I would put my pants on, my sneakers, grab a phone for 911 purposes, run to the door and peak outside to see...nothing.  Point is, I am exhausted.  And today was Meesh's big morning outing:  TARGET.  She got dressed up for it, too.  Showered.  Blew her hair out.  Perfume.  Lipstick.  Very, as my mom would say, Uffcapatch (not nearly the right spelling but it is a Yiddish word I think and it means something like "look at me everyone, I'm all did up and shit.")

So Meesh is off on her big morning and Evvy decides to play games with me.  She would close her eyes for a moment after I rocked her in my makeshift swing (my arms...watch out The Rock) and I would put her in her bassinet.  I'd walk away and she would squeal.  Sounds fun, right?  Cute game.  Not as good as Monopoly and Scattergories, but wicked fun nonetheless.  Then I would do every technique from "Happiest Baby On The Block" (have you seen that DVD?  Working for you?) and failed brilliantly.  I swaddled.  And re-swaddled.  Binky.  No Binky.  Lay down.  Stand up.  Bounce around.  Sit still.  I almost tried to fake her out and pretend my nipple was the right nipple.  Didn't work.  It's official, I'm just like all of the dads who have come before me...I'm an amusement park.  

I called Meesh and said "Bring your tits home now!"