Used to serve as a cover-up for my clothing on the way to the fetish club. Now it's covered in spit-up.

We traded our wine-colored sheets for cream ones since cream matches spit-up better.

I know the words to more than one baby song.

Pastels no longer make me wince.

I know which restaurants have changing tables in the bathrooms and have booths (easier for breastfeeding I think).

I actually check out other people's babies and can guess their ages fairly well.

Poop and pee are on my brain.

Just who the heck have I become?