You will lose tiny socks in the wash.
You will be able to shower, wash and dry your hair, and get dressed in less than ten minutes.
You will want to apologize to friends and family who had kids before you for never really getting why they had less time for you.
You will fantasize about what you would swap for a good eight hours of sleep.
You will be so proud of every ounce your baby gains.
You will wish you had the time and brain cells to read just one of the novels you blew through when pregnancy heartburn kept you up all night.
You will want to throw the baby monitor out the window.
You won't have the desire or the time to iron the crib skirt after you first wash it. And the wrinkles will drive you crazy. But not crazy enough to dismantle the crib and iron it.
You will wonder how other new moms manage to be so skinny, put-together, or energetic.
You will forget all about your difficult day with your baby when you finally see her sleeping peacefully at night.
You will have some mornings when you bounce out of bed to get the baby... and others when you need a truck to pull you from under the covers.
You will thank God for caffeine.
You will get used to how your husband comes home from work, checks on the baby, and "accidentally" wakes him up.
You will pretend you don't smell your child's dirty diaper as you hand her to her dad
You will overbundle your tyke for winter outings.
You will get sick of hearing yourself say, "I didn't get to it yet."
You will feel naked when you walk outside alone.
You will put your sweet pea in the ugliest outfit he's got, take an obligatory photo, and send it to the distant relative who purchased the fashion disaster.
You will call your new-mom friend to say that your baby has a runny nose and has sneezed twice, and that if she wants to reschedule your play date, you'll understand.
You will get peed, puked, or pooped on when you have nothing handy to change into.
You will pack everything your baby could possibly need for a weekend and forget your own eyeglasses or toothbrush.
You will detest traffic -- it means you're either late getting back home to your child or stuck in the car even longer with a fusspot.
You will crack up when you see your kid get down to music for the first time.
You will chat intimately with complete strangers on the grocery checkout line just because they are pregnant or have a small child.
You will e-mail friends and family pictures of the baby, always noting that if they want to stop receiving the updates you'll totally understand.
You will confess to your hubby whenever you do something not-so-smart with the baby, to ensure he doesn't make the same mistake.
You will catch your husband or partner being moved to tears by the baby.
You will feel so lucky to have a child when you catch up with a friend who's been struggling to get pregnant.
You will hear about criminals on the news and wonder what their moms are doing.
You will be excited when your tot grows out of one size and into the next.
You will be sad to put away what he's grown out of.
You will actually be in the mood for sex one night, only to find that your husband's passed out cold in bed.
You will not be in the mood for sex as he runs his foot along your unshaven legs and touches your greasy hair.
You will consider your husband's work commute his alone time, and be jealous of it.
You will be taken by surprise by your first postpartum period.
You will struggle to stay close to some of your childless friends.
You will make peace with your stretch marks because they give you character.
You will accept that your husband will never be as paranoid about the baby as you are, and will decide that's a good thing.
You will eventually find a playgroup whose kids are on the same schedule as yours.
You will live for your girls' nights out, once you get a couple under your belt and see that everything at home went just fine without you.
You will find Cheerios in odd places.
You won't care that she's getting food in her hair when she does "So Big" in her high chair.You will cherish the freedom to empty the dishwasher while your baby holds his morning bottle himself.
You will try not to take it personally when your sweetie's first word is "Da-Da." It must be easier to pronounce. [Editor's note: It is!]
You will write more-heartfelt thank-you notes to anyone who gives a toy without lights, batteries, and noise.
You will be relieved when your child turns 1. You didn't break him.
You will marvel at the volumes of unconditional love you have for your most wonderful achievement -- your baby.