I think, when you have a baby, there is a special hormonal thing that happens to your ears.
We went to the grocery store today and, when it was time to leave and get her bundled back into her coat, I put away her snack cup and her drink cup (we go prepared to the grocery store; we don't want to get the munchies in the middle of the cookie aisle). But she wanted them--now--and she spent the walk from the cashier to the door letting everyone at the front of the store know about it.
I have discovered, though, that these little whines, shrieks, grunts, pathetic whimpers, and indignant snorts seem to bounce off of my psyche. In fact, if you were to watch the two of us, it's like she and I are having two different conversations:
(Melissa puts lid on snack cup and puts it into bag)
Baby Girl: ehhhhhhhh ...
Melissa: It's time to get your coat on.
Baby Girl: (pointing) ehhhh-ehhhhhhhhhhhhh.
Melissa: (pushing Baby's Girl's arm inside of coat) It's time to go outside and it's cold so we have to put on our coats to go outside.
Baby Girl: (insistent, forgoing the pointing as obviously Mom is as thick as a brick) uuuueeeeeeeeehhhhhhhuuuuuuhhhhhhhh.
Melissa: (in a hushed tone of voice) Yes, I know that you want more snacks, but it's time to go outside and you have had plenty.
Baby Girl: (shrieking now, arching her back, and wailing for the happenstance passerby to get her the hell away from this Lady, Call DCFS, and give her back the goldfish) uheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.
Melissa: (zipping up Baby Girl's and her coat) Ok, we're all ready.
What I really don't know how it has happened is the fact that this doesn't faze me. I don't even have the foggiest clue as to whether other people are derisive of our scene or sympathetic. Instead of noticing how other people are regarding us or even rising to the occasion (as I would have done pre-Baby Girl), I get quieter and quieter until one of us has effectively had a time out. Granted, it's not usually the one of us that needed the time out, but I feel better for it.