There’s a Huggies ad campaign currently running with the tag line “enjoy the ride”. They want new parents to sign up for their rewards program (I’m guessing it’s just like the Pampers rewards I signed up for – buy a zillion and one diapers, get a $5 gift certificate for photo prints). In magazines the ads are pictures of hassled parents trying to juggle strollers and cell phones or trying to change diapers in the dark or something. There’s also a tv spot featuring what I’m sure is some casting director’s ideal version of a “hip, urban” mom – African-American, obvious tattoos, NYC-style apartment – trying to potty train her daughter. I’m sure the disposable diaper companies are losing this kind of parent in droves due to the popularity of the new cloth diapers and this campaign is an attempt to regain that market share. Be hip, use Huggies!

But if I was in charge, I’d fire that advertising agency immediately. One of the ads on tv has a “funny” disclaimer at the end. I’m sorry I can’t find the video online but considering they play it a hundred times a day I hope you’ve already seen it. The disclaimer says something like “To be eligible for Huggies rewards you must go through nine months of morning sickness and people touching your belly. Then you must be rushed to the hospital where you will experience…a miracle!”

Really Huggies? Really? Only people who have given birth need diapers? How about the thousands of families who come together through adoption. I’m sorry, parents who opened their hearts to a baby that isn’t biologically related to them, you can’t participate. Hope you got one that was already potty trained! And I sure hope you didn’t use a surrogate since your “miracle” will be happening to someone else. No rewards for you! Just to be safe, you better watch out for those step-kids too. Can’t let them go thinking they’re the same as REAL children!

There are many, many ways to become a family Huggies, and your insistence that one go through pregnancy to be a parent is ridiculous. If I didn’t already hate your diapers I’d be switching brands.

This baby gym:

This bracelet my aunt made me:

This Thai Chicken Pizza I made for dinner:

These lilies in my garden:

And this face:

I’M GOING BALD. Monday in the shower my hair started falling out in clumps and by yesterday afternoon everything in my house was covered in long blond strands. They’re on my clothes, in my food, wrapped around the baby’s tiny wrists and toes. I’m suddenly picturing a future of Bret Michaels-style wigs attached to bandannas attached to hats covering my shiny hairless scalp. Maybe I can get them in fabrics that co-ordinate with my Bobby covers. I’m told this is a perfectly normal part of the joy ride known as the postpartum period but that doesn’t make it any less upsetting.

Imagine someone tells you “Tomorrow when you wake up, everything will be upside down. The furniture will be on the ceiling. Water will run uphill. Gravity as you know it no longer exists.” “Got it,” you say, “Upside down.” You go to bed fully prepared because you have the information. Other people might be freaked out. People who haven’t been paying attention are going to be totally shocked. NOT YOU, because you KNOW. You bought a book about upside-downness.

But in the morning when you’re staring up at your carpet and down at your slippers, you will still scream “WHAT THE $%^# IS HAPPENING TO ME?!”

99% of pregnancy, birth and motherhood can be described with the above analogy.