Just Stop With the Parenting Advice

You know what’s super fun?

When people you know and love make it sound like parenting is easy, and you’re an idiot.

Example: when I shared that we were sleep-training our baby boy, again, after a couple failed attempts due to fevers and what-not, and that he still wanted to eat at least twice a night, an unnamed person told me, “Just pat him and don’t feed him.”

Oh.  Okay.  “Just” do this very easy thing, huh?  I mean, “just” sleep-train, and then he’ll be sleep-trained, and everything will be fine, right?

I shared this advice with Ryan.  He responded, “Oooooohhhhh, is that’s what I’ve been doing wrong?? I’ve been going into his room when he cries and feeding him butter.  Is that not right?”

“Well, shoot, I’ve been feeding him cat food, soooo…”

“Of course.  We haven’t been consistent.  THAT’s the problem!”

“I’ve also been throwing confetti and blowing trumpets.  Did I get that wrong?”

“Anne.  Stop.  Just pat him.  Easy peasy!”

It’s like when you call IT and they assume you haven’t already tried the really obvious solutions first.

Maybe they don’t realize one kid might not be the same as another.  Maybe they don’t understand that, coincidentally, we have followed their rules to the letter (not because they told us to, but because we independently came to the same extremely typical and common sleep-training methods) and our baby is still waking multiple times a night, and sometimes that just happens and it’s not the parents’ fault.  Maybe they don’t know the phrase “extinction burst” (or as Ryan likes to say, “extinction explosion”), or remember how their child probably also rebelled against a new sleep-training regimen by testing its limits at the start.

Maybe they don’t realize that quoting a Nike slogan to us is not only unhelpful, but a bit patronizing.

The same goes for anyone who wants to tell us what they do with their dog at night, or how their cousin trains their adopted iguana.

No.  Just no.  The giving of advice implies, purposefully or not, that the parents have failed to do something right.  Sometimes parents don’t need more information, and they VERY rarely need a side helping of guilt.  Sometimes they *just* need grace and non-judgmental support.

If you have successfully overcome some parenting obstacle—be it sleep-training, potty-training, teaching your kid to recite the Gettysburg Address—good for you.  Honestly. 

But if you found that particular obstacle easy to overcome, maybe you haven’t encountered the same precise challenges as your parent friend, who confessed that they are sleep-training their baby boy, again.

Or (if I may be so bold to suggest) your obstacle occurred, say, more than 6 weeks earlier, maybe you dumped it from your mind because dealing with childcare issues can be a bit aggravating.  Maybe you don’t actually remember how it all went down.  Ridiculous, I know, to suggest that you don’t recall every detail of every child’s existence.  But hear me out and bear in mind a lesson from my husband, who managed to forget Lina’s colicky stage.  In Ryan’s words, “Was she colicky?  Really?  She just cried all the time?  Huh.  Is that right?  Gee, I really don’t remember.”

And he doesn’t.  He isn’t faking it.  He honestly can’t recall the days of wheeling her around in a stroller or driving her around in the car, hoping the next minute she might relax and cease her screams.  He shoved that trauma into a tiny little metaphorical box, which he yeeted into the metaphorical ocean of his subconscious. 

Whereas my mind is not nearly so efficient and still wastes neurons wondering, years later, “Do those strangers in the post office remember my baby screaming, and if so, do they think I’m a bad parent?”

Point being, let’s be empathetic to one another, shall we?  If you think you know exactly how your friend has failed, take a step back and pretend you don’t, unless they specifically ask.  Instead, give them a safe space to vent. 

And to parents currently in the thick of it – just hang in there.