This episode of "Pimp My Gestation" is brought to you by . . . Pilsner Urquell: "The Pure Pilsner From Pilzen. Uncomprimised Since the Beginning."

Zadie is playing on the floor after drinking three of the seven ounces of milk in her bottle.

Lydia is propped on Brandon's lap, entering the **clean plate club**.

My head is laying in Lydia's lap.

The three of us are on the couch with our eyes closed.

Me: We should totally have our own reality show.

B: ?

Me: I think people would much rather watch this than Jon and Kate plus a bunch of kids getting shuttled around and bitched out.

B: I don't think people would be interested in this.

Lydia farts.

B: Who was that?

Me: Lydia. We could do an entire clip show of us farting. All of us. Thirty minutes of farting.

B: . . .

Me: (singing along with the miserable Sesame Beginnings theme song that is. on. repeat. repeat. repeat . . .) Beginning to giggle, babble and walk. Slitting your wrists, with a box-cutter. Tying a noose, and stepping on a chair . . . then stepping off and swinging down, make sure the knot is tight. Beginning to lay down, on the highway. Where is the gun? I need some more shells . . . . Really, Brandon, people would LOVE to see this.

B: Yeah, I guess.

Me: The three of us, laying on top of each other, half-asleep and Zadie tearing up the living room . . . they would love us.

B: . . .

Me: And my mom would finally move in forever.

B: Where would she sleep?

Me: Somewhere between us and the babies.

B: . . .

Me: And we could get Pilsner Urquell to sponsor us. Dear Pilsner Urquell, We are giving you the opportunity to sponsor our reality show. We promise to drink your beer in every scene. See, that means we have to ALWAYS be drinking because it's a reality show.

B: Now your talkin. (sipping Miller High Life) And we won't drink any other beer on our show except your beer. Unless you don't sponsor us. Then we will drink other beers.

Me: I'll still drink their beer.

B: But wait! If you sponsor within the next ten minutes you can give us beer for the rest of our lives.

Me: I'm going to look really fat on the show. You can tilt your head down in pictures but you can't lie on video.

B: Can we have one of those confession rooms, like on The Real World?

Me: Oooh, bad idea. I'd be bitching in the confession room all day instead of taking care of the babies.

B: Like your blog?

Me: AND MY ASSHOLE HUSBAND GETS TO GO TO WORK AND WALK TO A STARBUCKS AND POOP BY HIMSELF HOLY CHRIST I'M GOING TO PUT MY HEAD THROUGH THIS WALL IF I HAVE TO CHANGE ONE MORE DIAPER! And then you'd come home and I'd be nice. It's really a bad idea.

B: . . .

Me: A LAYLA-CAM! That would be perfect! It would watch Layla lay around. Then she'd pick up a shoe and wag her tail. Then she'd lay down. Then she'd bark at us. For like, four hours. Then she'd pick up a shoe and wag her tail. People would love that.

Lydia is now sitting up and playing with her empty bottle. She begins sucking air.

Me: See, stuff like this: our child is sitting here drinking an empty bottle and we didn't even notice.

B: It's empty? I just pushed it into her mouth!

Me: Perfect!

Zadie pulls up on the couch and I stick her half-full bottle in her mouth. She stands and drinks.

Me: I've got a good idea.

B: Yeah?

Me: You know those water feeders in rat cages where the rats go and drink whenever they want?

B: Yeah.

Me: We should have their milk in something like that and they could crawl right over and pull up on it and drink. That would totally work.

B: That's way better than what I was thinking.

Me: What were you thinking?

B: She stands at the same height as cow udders. We could just get a cow.

Me: But that's cow's milk and they aren't supposed to drink that yet.

B: Why not?

Me: Because they just can't. Not until they're one.

B: Yeah, but that's pasteurized milk. This would be straight from the cow. Baby cows drink it . . .

Me: It doesn't matter, they can't have it yet.

B: If it's good enough for a cow, it's good enough for my baby.