Cars.

Oh, the blessed car horn. It had to have been invented by a pregnant woman. What's that, you think no one behind you has anywhere to be? HONK! You forgot that there was someone else on the road? HONK! The constant click-click-click of your turn signal for the last 8 miles is therapeutic? HONK!

I have always been prone to road rage. I'm impatient and grew up in the ghetto. I like to drive fast and have been known to forget my car has a speedometer. Being pregnant, it's increased. Exponentially. I have to pee, so the people in front of me need to speed up. I have a craving, so the person in the turn lane needs to finish their turn before Christmas comes and the drive-thru closes. Facebook just upset me, so homeboy in the truck on his phone needs to stay out of my lane. And the holy grail to a pregnant motorist: the good parking spot. If I have to get my waddle on, I want to do it over the shortest distance possible. Don't even get me started on having to limp like a pirate while I've got my two small children in tow. So you better believe I want that spot. Not the fake spot at Wal Mart that is actually taken up with a shopping cart corral. Why don't they paint those spots differently, anyways? No, THE spot. The spot you circled back around for, sat with your blinker for, watched a family of 8 load up groceries for 6 months for. So God bless the horn that alerts the jerk who stole my spot to his cruel ways. And the old lady to hers. One retiree is outranked by a pregnant woman accompanied by a child. Two retirees outrank a pregnant woman by herself... but barely. A pregnant woman with two or more children in tow outranks the invalid Queen Mother herself. If a van filled with the Pope, the Queen, four grannies, Dick Clark, Zsa Zsa Gabor, and Michael J. Fox were to pull up, even their load takes a backseat to a pregnant woman with children. Two pregnant women with the same amount of children should be permitted to park inside the store.
Whenever someone steals my spot, I like to walk (limp) slowly in front of them, clutching my belly, whispering to it that it's okay, the mean man didn't know any better, let's just be glad that someone let HIS mother have a good spot so HE wasn't born in a parking lot.
People have historically been idiots in traffic. But the sense of urgency and annoyance that pregnancy hormones bring out increase the effects of these doofuses. You can't tell through a windshield whether or not the person you just cut off is pregnant... unless it's a guy. Then it's fine. But just to be on the safe side, let's all just pay attention to the stinking road so that we don't anger any momma bears, mmmkay?
And for the love of God, people, take off the campaign bumper stickers from 7 years ago. It's impossible to vote for your candidate.