If March "comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb," well then, parents, this month the stars have it that...
ARIES: You'll go into Gymboree Play & Music a well-meaning, albeit somewhat emasculated, suburban dad in a fleece jacket and come out a homicidal misanthrope carrying a $12 Play and Learn with Bubbles! book.
TAURUS: You'll go into the bathroom for five minutes of peace and come out after 15 unproductive seconds, wielding a toilet brush and threatening to give your kids "something to really scream about."
GEMINI: You'll go into Target for three pairs of toddler socks and a large jug of Windex and come out with: seven bulk-size jars of Kit Kats; a floral bikini from the Juniors department that might have fit you in fifth grade; 13 pairs of toddler socks; some porch cushions guaranteed to make you look really hip (that is, if you actually had porch furniture); a couple of hard-to-find Charlie and Lola DVDs that will, undoubtedly, give your daughter a British lilt; six wicker baskets that might fit perfectly on your pantry shelf but most likely won't and you'll never return them but instead probably just throw them in your sister's garage sale next summer; an US Weekly featuring Reese and Jake's breakup; an impulse Diet Coke from the checkout fridge; and -- oh, shit! Do you have early-onset Alzheimer's or is your head just in your ass? -- not that large jug of Windex.
CANCER: You'll go into your doctor for a pap smear and come out with tear-stained cheeks, a box of Kleenex, a prescription for Zoloft, and a pamphlet on tummy tucks.
LEO: You'll go into the bar for a couple of beers with the guys and come out seven hours later in your boxers, searching madly for your iPhone so that you can call the Taco Bell chihuahua and ask if they still have the Volcano Nachos on the menu. And -- oh yeah, ladies -- who's coming to the gun show?
VIRGO: You'll go into the PTA meeting with a couple of concerns about a certain parent and come out on a stretcher.
LIBRA: You'll come into your house, take one whiff, and burn rubber to who-knows-where, you're just going to drive until that stench leaves your nostrils. Hell, it may require smoking half a pack of Camels while you listen to Rush's Hemispheres, but if that's what it takes, that's what it takes. Don't count on me for dinner.
SCORPIO: You'll go in to the J. Crew dressing room with seven pairs of jeans suggested by that skinny bitch sales assistant who insisted "matchstick" was not the same as "toothpick" and come out with some of those Thriller contacts in your eyes hoping to bitchslap that girl to last Thursday with a ballet flat.
SAGITTARIUS: You'll go in to the pediatrician with a kid who doesn't know he's getting a shot and come out with a kid who's getting a new bike and ice cream and maybe a diamond-encrusted set of Transformers, or, I dunno, maybe a scooter made of rubies.
CAPRICORN: You'll go in to see Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakquel and come out a heroin addict.
AQUARIUS: You'll pull in to the Wendy's drive thru for your dry cleaning and leave with a Frosty, but only after trying to make a bank deposit.
PISCES: You'll go away for a romantic weekend with your husband and come home pregnant.