When I was having my baby, my friends Cathy, Sharon and Maureen put together a wonderful baby shower. I was surrounded by my loved ones. Everyone knew I was having a girl and that I was planning on naming her Julia, so the cake had her name on it and lovely little flowers as I recall.  The gifts were precious and sweet. There was cooing and oohing and whispers about the preciousness of mommyhood. It was all very lovely, full of class and did I mention loveliness? 

At no point during the course of the shower (or during my entire pregnancy for that matter) did any one of my mommy friends bother to mention THE NIGHTMARE I WAS ABOUT TO FACE! You mommies know what I’m talking about. The plugged ducts, sore nipples, endless crying, poops in every color of swamp mud and condiments AND every consistency known to man, mastitis, sleep deprivation and don’t forget those feelings of helplessness and hopelessness that you have no idea what you’re doing … all while trying to recuperate from a C-section sans Vicodin because EVERYTHING YOU CONSUME GOES RIGHT INTO YOUR BABY!

About a week into the nightmare that was initial motherhood, I asked my friend Cathy WHY THE HELL no one bothered to mention how frikkin’ hard it was all going to be. She said,” Please. You wouldn’t have wanted to hear it. Anyway, you’d never have believed it. You have to experience it for yourself.”

Apparently somebody named OLIVIA had some mommy friends who were a little more forthcoming about her not-too-distant future. Cuz this is the cake they gave her. (NOTE: Boobie and pube censorship for the squeamish). No flowers or butterflies or binkies with ribbons. This cake gets down and dirty about what’s to come. Well, except for the thighs. I mean, who has THOSE thighs after growing a human being for 9 months?

I gotta wonder if anyone “called” the “piece with the crowning head!”

NOTE: IDEA FOR EXTRA FUN. If any of you mommies are going to use this idea when you host your next baby shower, I suggest putting one of those little computer chips (like they have in musical greeting cards) in the cake cutter. So every time you CUT INTO the cake you hear the sounds of a WOMAN CURSING and SCREAMING and YELLING at her husband that it’s “ALL YOU’RE %$#@! FAULT” and to NEVER TOUCH HER AGAIN! You know, just for added fun.