The chances go up by a ton if you breastfeed, but even if you don't nurse there's still a high probability that you're going to flash a stranger at some point. Things are pretty chaotic and it's hard to keep track of everything and, in circumstances like that, it's totally understandable that, at some point, a boob is going to come loose. There are a number of UPS delivery dudes throughout the New York metro area who, I'm sure, swap stories about that harried-looking woman who always had a nip showing when she came to the door.

If you're lucky, you won't notice until after your interaction with another person, and you can melt in embarrassment by yourself.

It will happen to all of us at some point: our kid will soil themselves (ideally when they have a diaper on) and you turn to your bag only to realize, whoops! There's nothing in there. Maybe you forgot to restock after your last outing. Maybe your kid just went through that many damn diapers, like you're made of money and love nothing more than to clean their waste. Maybe you simply forgot because that bag is packed with 2,455 other things your child needs.

When this happens (and when it does, it will inevitably be when your child has the biggest blowout of their life) you will get creative. You will swaddle their bottom in a spare onesie, some newspaper and duct tape, your nicest cardigan, or whatever other throwaway piece of clothing you can find. It will be awful and embarrassing but you'll all live.

It's bad enough when they're infants and melt down because, well, they're infants and they are probably living in a constant state of existential crisis because what even is this chaotic, bright world they've been pushed into?! Their loud shrieking is never pleasant, but I feel like more people will tolerate that sort of thing from someone "fresh out of the oven." Once they hit toddler years, however, and even though they're not all that much better at expressing their emotions in a reasonable way, people expect them to be calm and adult-like. So you better believe that their banshee-like wailing paired with the judgmental side-eye of strangers is, well, a lot to endure.

You'd think that such tiny humans would be pretty easy travel companions. False. They need all the things. My kids are older and it still takes forever to get out of the house sometimes. Still, now that we're out of the baby phase I can pretty much just go with a regular-old purse and maybe a snack or two. But babies? You need to basically transport your entire nursery — diapers, wipes, changing pad, nursing and pumping equipment, someplace for them to sleep, toys, snacks, blankets, stroller, spare clothes — so you can meet their unpredictable and seemingly endless list of needs.

And no one looks cool carrying a pack and play and a diaper bag the size of a grown man's torso.

This is your life now, folks. You have opinions on the best episodes of Peppa Pig and the best humans on Sesame Street. You know all of Curious George's hijinks.

My pop culture references more or less stalled out around 2010. Because once I became pregnant with my first I was too exhausted to move unless I absolutely had to... or someone told me there was cake in the break room. And then my child was born and it's like, "HA! Yeah, you're never leaving your apartment ever again, lady." And when I finally did leave my home to go on a long-weekend vacation guess what dummy went and got pregnant again?

So, yeah, I think I've gone to about five movies in the past eight years and most of them have been Lego-based. So please don't ask me about whatever cool new actress is doing, because I can almost guarantee you that I will have no idea what you're talking about.

You don't remember the last time you gave your kid Goldfish, but somehow, when you did, one landed in your bra only to fall out now, at the most embarrassing moment possible.

But hey, at least you have a free snack. Goldfish are delicious.

Remember when you and your friends wouldn't leave your apartment until 11:00 p.m.? Remember how you'd spend hours getting ready so that your hair laid in perfect beach-like waves down your back?

It is now 8:23 p.m. and you are wearing whatever came out of your closet first that still fits and you're struggling to hide your yawns while your child-free friends order their entrees and OMG, whose idea was it to make an 8:00 p.m. dinner reservation?! Who eats that late?! (Aside from you, a few years ago, when a 10:00 p.m. reservation wasn't a big deal.) Someone offers you another glass of wine and you demurely refuse with a casual "I'll have another with dinner," but the fact of the matter is that if you have anymore alcohol you will pass out in front of everyone.

Your home just is not up to your pre-child standard. Even if it's all tidy and clean, the fact that your life is now ruled by a small child is pretty clear. There's baby stuff everywhere. I once swore that there would never be toys visible in my living room and that was hilarious.

Point is, your carefully crafted, Pinterest aesthetic will not survive your firstborn. And, spoilers, if you opt for a Pinterest perfect nursery that isn't going to last, either. Your baby DGAF what looks good. Your baby just wants to be able to pull everything apart and leave it for you to clean up. It's their favorite game. It's their extra-favorite game right before you have company over.

Everyone around you knows what that smell is. But you're online at the grocery story with a cart full of stuff and you can't zip into the bathroom (that doesn't even have a changing table for some reason) to, literally, handle your sh*t. So there you are, just smelling and harried and, if you're lucky, your baby is also crying because they want their diaper changed.

Motherhood is beautiful.

If you ever talk sh*t about someone in front of your child, your child will inadvertently but inevitably ensure that the person in question will be hearing every damn word you said.

If your kid didn't land a nice blob of puree on you, then you did it to yourself. My family always made fun of my mom for spilling something on the front of her shirt at every meal, but I understand now that this is just something, biologically, that clearly happens to moms.

"You need Motrin? A tissue? A snack? Tape? A hair tie? A Band-Aid? Here, I've got you."

"OMG!" your friends laugh, "You're such a mom now!"

"Shut up, guys! No I'm not!"

But you are. You are such a mom now.