All The Great Advice You Should Ignore

Confessions of a former advice addict.

If there’s one thing that comes with new mom territory (apart from bruised nipples and sleep deprivation), it’s advice. You start receiving unsolicited advice from well-meaning friends the minute you break the pregnancy news, starting with a month-by-month breakdown of the entire ordeal experience, and ending with the best way to sneak an extra epidural dose (there is none – in my experience, the “button” is but an urban myth). All advice is usually biased and contingent on its source: new moms regurgitate the same information you just read on Motherly, seasoned moms give slightly patronizing empirical advice based on their extensive experience, and your own mom gives you tips from the pre-diaper era (i.e. a time when I wouldn’t have procreated). On top of it, you’re likely filling your brain with books, podcasts and the gospel of Dr. Becky, who often offer contradicting theories on each minor matter. Oh, there are also the pediatricians, with their textbook spiels designated to keep them out of lawsuits.

Here’s some advice from a former advice addict: listen to it all, learn it all, then ignore it all.

You see, when I first got pregnant and had a baby, I was so freaked out that I listened to everyone. I read the books. I gobbled up the podcasts. I copied my girlfriend’s entire baby registry. I even put my baby on a schedule based on a sleep training method I found on Instagram. Everything I tried worked perfectly fine – most likely, because my baby was a stress-free angel child who loved breastfeeding, sleeping and solids (the baby equivalent of a triple wonder) and displayed a shockingly mild temperament for somebody with two psychopaths as parents.

Then, at around 14 months, her DNA began to show. Not only that, but she also began revealing a unique trait that nobody outside of select Reddit boards talked about. It turns out that she not only loved food, but was ready to go to battle for it, screaming for hours on end until delivered a third serving of her meal. (Do you have the same issue? Let’s start a support group!) The only way I could distract her was by turning on Cocomelon, a cartoon known to hypnotize toddlers for indefinite time periods. When I called the pediatrician, she acted like I was giving my kid methadone. “You’re just replacing one habit with another. Try Play Doh,” were her exact words.   

And so, I banned screens. I tried Play Doh, only to find myself scraping it off the floor. I danced around the kitchen to Queen. I staged a puppet show, for God’s sake. Nothing worked. Defeated, I began physically removing her from her high chair, which would escalate to tantrums that left both of us sobbing and the neighbors ready to call child services. Now, I needed help with tantrums! And so, I sought out another friend’s advice and purchased a Big Little Feelings seminar led by two American women with awkward jokes. After about two hours of their coaching, I leaned to my daughter amidst a tantrum and said, “Honey, I know it’s hard to leave the table! Mommy hates leaving the table too!” (True that.) Her reply? A sippy cup chucked at my head. I was miserable, she was miserable, we cried together every day.

Right around that time, my fiancé and I went to Italy. My daughter stayed with my mom, who had raised kids in a country where there was no American Academy of Pediatrics and their militia cartoon bans. After each meal, she would turn on Cocomelon, hypnotize my child, then sneakily remove her from the chair. They lived in peace for two weeks.

Since returning home a month ago, I haven’t been in the mood for extra tantrums (which I get regardless). So now, after each meal, I turn on Cocomelon or a more chill neuroscientist-recommended alternative called Stillwater. Once my daughter is in baby Nirvana, I transfer her to the floor and move on to the next activity (or not). She’s happy, I’m happy. If my pediatrician doesn’t like it, she can come over with some Play Doh.

To avoid alienating all the non-mom readers (which I suspect I might eventually), this tip applies to dating and relationships as well. I recently heard a “dating expert” pronounce it a red flag when a guy doesn’t regularly follow up in the beginning, for it is an indicator that he isn’t serious. Once upon a time, I would have agreed wholeheartedly. And yet, my very own fiancé, i.e. the only serious man I’ve ever known, chose to play hardball in the beginning and had me chasing him for two months before he finally started texting me in complete sentences. Everybody in my life, including my mother, doubted his potential, but he had his own reasoning that I will save for another time. The point is, had I listened to the dating expert, we probably wouldn’t have ended up together. Similarly, had I listened to a friend who firmly advised that I leave all vacation planning to him at the beginning of our relationship, we never would have gone on vacation (as in, not to this day). Where some men find it emasculating to have a woman plan everything, others find it a relief. Where some men like a chase, others need a little pushing. Where some children can be distracted via Play Doh, others need the cartoon version of crack-cocaine.

Couples are different, kids are different, and we should all listen to others a little bit less and trust our gut a little bit more.

Signing off,

MK

How much do you allow advice to affect your life? Let’s talk about it!