Boo On Poo: How I Learned Never To Leave the House Without an Extra Onesie

This morning my mom called to tell me that she was playing hooky from work and wanted to go shopping and out to lunch, would I like to come? Critter and I were in the car before I finished drying my hair. Nothing says Happy Friday like free lunch.

As Madre and I were finishing eating, we noticed Critter was turning a funny purple color. I leaped up and pounded him on the back thinking that he was choking on a cheerio. He returned to a normal shade and I returned to my seat, only to have him do another Barney impression a couple of minutes later. Before I could dial 911 my mother informed me that she thought he was "making number 2." Which she said just like that: making number 2.

When we were done with lunch and Critter had gone through several rounds of color change theory, Madre volunteered to take him out to the car and change him while I cleaned up the table. I threw the trash away, refilled my drink, went to the restroom, and ran into and chatted with a friend before finally making it out to the parking lot. So, I was pretty surprised to see my mom standing by the back door instead of huffily waiting in the passenger seat.

As I rounded the front of the car I could see that she was gingerly holding up a giggling Critter by the feet. "What the....?" I started to ask. I was cut short, however, by the shock of noticing that Critter appeared to have had a run in with the crazy-eyed spray tan lady at our local Ultra Tan. A second later, I figured it out. Critter had poo (POO!!) smeared all over his legs and stomach. I then noticed that his onsie, which had been a cream color at lunch but was now closer to that of mud, in a heap on the pavement.

My mom narrowed her eyes at me. "We need napkins." She growled. "And a cup of water." The travel wipes box lay empty about a foot from the mud onsie. I turned on my heel and scampered back into the restaurant before she could demand that I hold his feet.

As I got back to the parking lot, I could see my mom shaking her head while a group of teenaged girls walked by laughing. When they passed I heard one saying "Eww, that is so gross! I am so never having kids!"

"Girlie," I wanted to say "I'm in total agreement."

The A$$ Hat: This Summer's Must-Have Accessory for Opinionated Strangers

There is little in this world that brings out stupid comments from friend and foe like pregnancy. I'm not sure if it's because the majority of the population is aware that preggos aren't recommended to partake in fist-fights or because the sight of a pregnant person automatically bestows the seer with a medical degree, but there is no other time in a persons life when they will more wish to live on a deserted island than while with child.





It was during my 4th or 5th month of pregnancy with Critter that I ran into a person who has always been a mega-butt and I should expect no good to come from. Butt Head looked me up and down with his critical eyes and said, not "Congratulations" but "Wow, you've gotten really fat." Which was an especially cruddy comment for him to make, considering I had only gained about 10 pounds.





As I blinked in shock, the only comeback I could think of was to tell him that I was right on target with my weight gain and my doctor had congratulated me for being exactly average.



His response? "Huh. Well, she's not concerened that your butt appears to be what's pregnant, not your stomach?" I had nothing to say to this, so I pretended not to have heard him.




However, when I got home I curled up next to Husband and told him the story with tears streaming down my face. Husband looked at me and responded with all the sympathy of his gender. "Well, what can I say? You know he's an ass hat!"



And out of the ashes of my self-esteem arose the A$$ Hat:








See those little slips of paper sticking out of the top? Those are all the crappy comments people have made to me over the course of my pregnancies. When someone says something stupid, mean, or completely inappropriate, I jot it down on whatever is handy and when I get home I put it in the A$$ Hat. Then, when I'm feeling creative and/or mean spirited I pull out the A$$ Hat and try to come up with retorts to all the stupid things people say.



As you can see, the A$$ Hat is pretty full. And so recently, I changed the Hat's rules. Now I play a different game.



Friday's are pretty boring for me, so Fridays became my Game Day. Each morning on My Most Special Day, I close my eyes and pick a saying from the Hat. Then I pack the diaper bag full of Critter essentials and run all my errands that I have been saving up since the previous Game Day. I make a tally on the slip of paper for each time someone makes the same, or a similar comment. And then I picture them in the Hat, a la Jeff Foxworthy's "Here's Your Sign."



So, Strangers, if you are unable to keep your opinions to yourself, and you run into me on a Friday, and I'm laughing maniacally, that's why. It's because you are wearing the A$$ Hat.

Reason #42 Why Pregnant People Shouldn't Grocery Shop While Hungry