Housewives have it made. After dropping the kids off at school, these domestic damsels have more free time than Andy Dufresne. It’s no wonder that they’re socializing with other moms, volunteering at the senior center, taking classes and going to the gym. I’ve had friends whose stay-at-home moms taught Spanish, knitted afghan blankets, read Nora Roberts books and even bought a puppy just to keep them company.

I get it. Housewives and stay-at-home moms have a lot of time on their hands. And money. Good for them (no sarcasm intended). If I could do that, I would. But what trips me up is the housewives who hire housemaids and live-in babysitters. Is the issue that you have so much free time, you’re willing to fill it doing anything BUT clean your house? Or is it just that if you can afford a maid, you should…?

I guess some people just love to be pampered. Work is just not for them, and kudos to all of you who have found that calling and made it happen. No more dusting or wiping bathroom floors. No more taking garbage out or washing dishes. Taking care of your kids, driving them places and making them lunch is too much work. All play. No work. What happened to housewives that would spend their entire day running errands, making dinner and baking while cleaning the house and looking after the 3 little ones? Today’s housewives are different, I guess. The more free time you have, ladies, the less I understand why you’d hire a maid to do all your work.

Bonus Podcast: Em tells us about her “cute little MILF-y mother” and why it’s okay for Em to call her that.

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Everyone’s heard the metaphor about the boiling frog. If you put a frog in a pot of boiling water, it will jump out, but if you put it cool water and slowly boil it, the frog will remain there until it dies. That’s essentially how it works with having a baby. Barring accidents, women don’t just up and get pregnant one day. They ease you into it, using The Baby Ladder.

The Baby Ladder is a slow escalation towards making dudes realize that they’re mature enough to have a baby, they’re ready to have a baby, and they might actually want a baby. The first step on the ladder requires you to start…

1) Owning Plants
Dudes don’t own plants, but the second he moves in with his girlfriend, he is now the proud owner of at least three potted plants. Plants are super low-maintenance. Water them every once in a while. Make sure they get the proper sunlight. Speak to them in soothing tones. Piece of cake, right? Right, until she insists you think about…

2) Buying a Puppy
Puppies have to be fed daily. They need to be walked and cleaned up after. They require veterinarian visits. Vacation plans have to be changed to accommodate the dog. If you just bought a puppy with your girlfriend, this shit just got serious. Over time, you get used to the dog. You appreciate its loyalty. You forget what life was like before you got it. And right around the time she’s sure that you’ve passed the point of no return, she suggests the two of you start…

3) Babysitting Your Friends’ Kids
This is as close as it gets to putting a baby on layaway. And I don’t know who initiates this step - whether her friends and relatives assume you two are ready because you’ve taken to the puppy so well or whether she goes out trolling for a baby in need of sitting. Either way, it won’t be long before you’re spending your Saturday night or Sunday afternoon caring for her nephew or for her BFF’s daughter. And that’s fine. Babies are easy to deal with in short doses - when you know they’ll be returning home soon. But pretty soon you’re spending a lot of time babysitting other people’s kids, and then you’re on the hook, because pretty soon, you’re…

4) Having a Baby.
How did you get here? When did you sign up for this? By the time you realize it, you’re too late.

Meet Bebe Gloton. Like all the creepy dolls before her, she does her part to mold the soon-to-be imbalanced psyche of a young woman. Bebe Gloton teaches an ever so important prepubescent lesson in breast-feeding.

I don’t really know why any mother in her right mind would think this an appropriate doll for her child. I guess it makes sense in a world where mothers get their children breast implants as a graduation gift. Here is a demonstration of this X-mas season’s must-have.

Remember the first time you ever saw a photo cake. You were probably a kid at the birthday party for one of your rich friends. They pull out the cake and there he is, in all his photorealistic glory, right there on the frosting. Everyone wants to see it, and oddly enough, everyone can’t wait to eat it. “I want Anthony’s head,” the kids shout.

So how and why did we take this slightly odd practice and make it a whole lot weirder by replacing seven year old kids with first trimester embryos?

Sonogram cakes are exactly what you’d expect them to be - cakes with ultrasound pictures worked right into the top layer of frosting.

I don’t want to sound insensitive, but this gives me nightmares. As someone who rarely thinks babies are cute, I definitely don’t think that bean-sized fetuses are anything adorable. And I definitely - positively, absolutely - don’t want to bite into their amniotic faces, albeit made out of sugary frosting.

Fortunately, it’s not too late to turn this trend around. Bakeries should adopt a strong “No Sonogram Cake” policy, and whenever someone asks for one, give them a stork cake instead. Yeah, remember storks? They used to be our PG, totally not weird way of explaining childbirth.

Now, we just put it all out there, like some kind of gynecological food collage.

I come across a lot of weird stuff on my travails across the internet for further proof that women be trippin, but “reborns” are hands down the craziest thing I’ve ever seen. I almost think I can retire now that I’ve discovered something as uniquely trippin as these lifelike baby dolls.

Not only are these dolls individually made with frightening precision (each hair is rooted in the head, strand by strand), but it also costs a pretty penny to call one of these dolls your own. Each “reborn” runs you about $4,000. Four thousand dollars?! That’s a little more than half the cost of going to a real hospital with certified doctors and having them deliver a baby the way nature intended. On the one hand, it’s a cost saver versus the real thing. On the other hand, it’s $4,000 for a DOLL!

Some women buy these dolls because they yearn to have kids so bad, they need to have something that looks, feels, and weighs the same as a real loin fruit. These women are a dangerous threat to our society, and they ought to be quarantined.

Other women buy these “reborns” so that they, themselves, can become “remoms.” Since their kids have all grown up, they long for that feeling of helplessness that an infant provides. And since you can’t freeze your real kids in time, buying a doll is the next best thing. These women are equally out of their mind. What’s the kid gonna think when mommy is spending all her time tending to some expensive piece of plastic?

One “remom” compares herself to a man who might build a model train set. While I think that hobby is strange, as well, the guys who build them don’t think that the model train set is an actual train depot. They have a greater grasp on this lovely place I call reality.

Women Be Trippin everywhere and all the time. Here’s the next chapter in our list of 101 Ways Women Be Trippin.

I’m sure that girls derive some magical sense of fun from playing with dolls - changing them and feeding them and tending to the fake cries. Personally, I don’t understand how this is in any way enjoyable, but I’ve been more than willing to give my little sisters the benefit of the doubt.

I should hope that at some point in their adolescence, women would realize that even though dolls might look like children, they are not actually children. You cannot treat babies the way you treat a doll, and, as such, you cannot go naming your kids willy-nilly unless you are actually growing a tiny-person inside of you.

Some women have their baby names chosen way, way, way in advance. This is crazy for a few reasons:

1. You’re gonna have to raise that baby with someone else, namely the baby’s father. Don’t you think he’s going to have an opinion on what to name the fruit of his loins?
2. We’re talking about a human being - with feelings and a skeleton and everything! As much as you liked Trista from the first season of The Bachelorette, I don’t think it’s a good idea to name your infant after her.
3. Someday, you’re going to have a boyfriend, and when he finds out that you’ve already named your first six children, he’s going to run… fast. He hasn’t even thought about what he’s gonna wear tomorrow, let alone whether he wants to have children with you and what he’s going to let you name them.

Tips for guys: Tell your lady that you’ve always had a hankering to have a child named Atari.

At bars, they have those signs up that say that drinking while pregnant is generally a bad idea. They might want to change those signs to include drinking while breast-feeding, too.

Stacey Anvarinia of Grand Forks, North Dakota, pleaded guilty to felony counts of child neglect for breast-feeding her baby while bottle-feeding herself. I’m not sure what we should even call this. Is it BFUI (Breast-Feeding Under the Influence)?

I’m sure that there’s a chapter in the Idiot’s Guide to Being a Mom that discourages this kind of behavior. If there isn’t, then there should be. I hope Stacey of North Dakota learned her lesson, because now she faces up to five years in prison.

I can clearly recall growing up and going to my grandma’s house for holidays, birthdays, weekend barbecues, and weekday dinners. Like everyone’s grandma, mine is the best cook in the family. You can’t enter the house without eating something, and you can’t leave without taking home some leftovers.

And as I grow up and see movies like My Big Fat Greek Wedding and have holiday meals with other people’s families, I’ve realized all grandmas are the same - Italian, Jewish, Greek, Persian, Mexican. Grandmothers everywhere derive some sort of sick pride and happiness when you eat their food. The greatest insult you could ever give a grandmother is to not eat her food. And you can never eat enough, in her eyes. You could have just eaten an entire cow and she’d still insist you can have another plate followed by homemade pie (”After all,” she’d say, “I made it special for you. I know it’s your favorite”). And so you just eat it. So the irony is, she feeds you and feeds you and then if you get fat, she’ll probably tell you to lose a few pounds, while still insisting you finish seconds and thirds.

The stubbornness that mothers and grandmothers alike have that allow them to be so unhappy if you don’t eat their food is something I will never understand. For my mother, my grandmother and any future mother-in-law, all I can do is just pretend to be hungry and that their food is the best in the world. No questions asked. Just finish everything on your plate, even if it feels like you’re going to puke. She’d be happier if you did; you’d eat more.

The Peekaru is one of those vests you wear to help carry your baby. These vests have been around for decades, but there’s never been one quite as creepy as the Peekaru.

The Peekaru fits like a Snuggie, and the little porthole for the baby’s head can make it look like the baby’s living in a tummy aquarium. The poor tyke spent nine months in the womb, only to finally achieve freedom, before his mom shoves him back in a womb-like contraption. The Peekaru is essentially baby prison.

To me, any mother who uses a Peekaru is desperately trying to re-create the famous alien-out-of-chest scene from Alien. Or perhaps (as others have deftly pointed out) Kuato from Total Recall.

Ultimately, the Peekaru is a terrific waste of money, not to mention that keeping your baby suffocatingly close to you is probably pretty indicative of what the next twenty years of his life are gonna be like.

(Some rad ’shoppers at Emptees have played “fill in the blank,” creating some pretty funny results.)