Several weeks ago, I hatched what may or may not have been one of my most brilliant ideas. Depends who you ask. My friend who used to live across the hall in our condo building had a baby girl a few weeks before the Pirate was born. We had visions they would grow up sisters-in-spirit but they freaking ditched us for the suburbs. We see each other now when we make plans that I believe they call a “playdate.” On our last playdate to the Pumpkin Patch, we were sitting at the table lamenting the woe of how Cool Dad and I both work from home and can’t really “work” because we run around after the Pirate with a fire extinguisher. Our friends simultaneously lamented their woe that mom works ridiculous hours and dad’s home with the little one all day. Sometimes for 12 hour stretches.

I flashed to my own world where I make it about 45 minutes with the Pirate before I need either a drink, a massage or a valium and I could not understand how our friend was doing it – all day, every day on his own. For 10 plus hours!

I know. Us and our stupid first world problems.

Anyway, the brilliant idea. I suggested we do a baby-trade. One day the Pirate goes to their house and one day their little Princess comes to ours. This gives the girls 2 days a week together and the parents each a day off. Because of scheduling, we didn’t get going on this right away – it took a couple weeks to get started, but we did finally get started.

I think it’s safe to say that all parties realize that our friends got the short end of the stick and they’re too polite to tell us. Case in point.

The other day I’m sitting on the couch for a rare moment of peace and the Pirate walks by me holding a bag of fireworks. Yes. A fucking bag of fireworks. Sometimes, I just can’t…

Our friends brought their Princess here first and it went quite well. She’s sweet and snuggly and when something scares her she wants to be cuddled. Cut to my child. She’s a total tomboy, nothing really scares her – at least not that we’ve found because she has no issue confronting her fears head on and investigating. She hits the dog repeatedly, she recently discovered pinching (my double chin, not cool Pirate, double chins are hereditary!) and she throws toys faster and harder than a pitcher in the Major Leagues. If you tell her no on any of the above, she’ll do it twice as hard the next time. It’s like being under siege.

I naively thought when she started waking up in the middle of the night with bad dreams that I would get to console and cuddle her but no. I brought her to bed with us and it was an unmitigated disaster – like being inside a washing machine at a Wimbledon match during an earthquake.  I used to judge the co-sleepers, but now I’m actually jealous.

I walked down the aisle to marry Cool Dad to Van Halen. I imagine the Pirate will walk down the aisle to Seek and Destroy. At least it’s Metallica, so there’s that.

We’re gearing up for week 2 of our baby-trade arrangement. I wonder if this is the week our friends will fire us. I will probably wonder that every week until they actually do fire us.