Parental Guidance
by Jenna McCarthy |
 |
|
One new mom finds a way to deal with all that unsolicited (albeit well-meaning) advice.
It started long before I popped my first prenatal vitamin, the free (read:
unsolicited) advice. Friends with kids: "You two should start a family!" My
grandmother: "You're not getting any younger, you know." (Thanks, Gram. I hadn't
realized.) Even my OB/GYN got in on the act: "Now might be a good time to start
thinking about whether or not you see reproduction in your future."
It didn't stop when I actually got pregnant, either. In fact, it got worse. Baby
names? Forget about a consensus. This one knew a Noah in third grade who ate
glue, that one's neighbor had a dog named Maggie (and you can't name your child
after a dog, for crying out loud!), Kirstin is too trendy, Riley is too gender
nonspecific, Gerty is too old-fashioned, Alec will be called smart-Alec (the
horror!) and Elliot? "We'll love him anyway," was my sister-in-law's reply.
As my belly grew, suggestions were hurled at me like baseballs in a batting cage.
Friends, family and total strangers told me what to eat, how to exercise and
where to shop; they gave me their books, their doctors' names, their maternity
clothes; they offered suggestions for improving my sex life, my bowel movements,
my back pain. Over an otherwise lovely lunch, one relentless friend enumerated
the benefits of delivering the placenta naturally (a subject I admit I hadn't
given a passing thought until that moment). Over and over, I'd smile politely and
pretend to be appreciative - all while imagining a large wad of dirty sweat socks
being inserted forcibly between the advice-giver's lips.
The turning point came one night at a friend's birthday dinner. Since following
the crowd to the martini bar wasn't an option, I ordered a Coke. The diner across
from me - a complete stranger - gasped audibly and screwed his face into such a look
of horror you'd have thought I had ordered a glass of fresh-squeezed kitten
blood. "Should you be drinking Coke?" he asked me. "Not really," I replied with a
what-are-you-gonna-do shrug, "but it really helps with the hangovers." He didn't
say another word to me for the entire evening, and I couldn't have been happier.
After that, I became an expert at the conversation-stopping reply. "You are going
to breastfeed, aren't you?" a co-worker asked condescendingly toward the end of
my pregnancy. "Not right now," I told her, "but maybe when the baby is born."
Later, "Pacifiers interfere with motor development," became a popular refrain.
I'd come back with, "I know, but how else are you going to shut them up?" Another
favorite: "You should let her cry herself to sleep." Me: "No need. A few shots of
brandy and we're both out like a light!"
It may sound harsh, but a little sarcasm really works. You should try it.
Jenna McCarthy is a freelance writer in Santa Barbara, Calif., and a new mom who
is sure her baby's first words will be, "Don't tell me what to do!"
|
|
|
Related Articles:
 Parent Company: Sweet Slumber
Parent Company: Iron Mom Marathon
Parent Company: Knowledge and Intuition
Parent Company: Pedicure Power
Parent Company: Wise Words
|
|
|
|
|
