Kids aren't the only ones who say the darndest things

There's something about having a baby that makes you attract parenting advice in the frequency of traffic in Los Angeles. I'm referring to the interesting (that's a euphemism) things people tell you you should (another euphemism) do for your baby. It comes from everyone, everywhere, every time you see them: your parents and parents-in law, older people you see occasionally, and even strangers in the grocery store check-out aisle. This phenomenon has hit us since the day Serene came home from the hospital. Each time we encounter people, they have the irresistible urge to offer child-rearing advice along the lines of:

"Ay! She has hiccups. You know, you need to dab vinegar across her forehead." How thoroughly naive of me to think that vinegar's uses were limited to salad dressing recipes.

"Why isn't she wearing a hat? Put a hat on her head.  If you don't, it will affect her brain development." The day she gets straight Fs on her report card, I will bemoan my irresponsibility in not putting a hat on her head at every waking moment. 

"Don't put her in zippered onesies. I don't want her to wear those. They make her uncomfortable. Poor baby is so uncomfortable." I'm pretty confident that anyone who has changed multiple diapers at 2am would praise the Lord for inventing zippered onesies.

"You need to put a hat on her before the wind gets into her head. Or else she'll have headaches her entire life." Hey, it could be worse. At least they're not lifelong migraines.

"She has diaper rash? Spray your breast milk on her bottom. Do it right now." As in, take your goods out and do it right then and there. Who cares if there are 15 people lingering around within a 10 foot radius?  

And best of all: "She's cold." This is the one we receive on the near daily, which absolutely boggles my mind (the ultimate euphemism). People, we live in Southern California where the sun shines perpetually and it's 80 degrees in January and February.

Of course, I wrote the commentary above with a degree of playfulness because I'm sure they think I'm just plain silly for not knowing these things. When we receive these entertaining nuggets of parenting wisdom in reality, we just smile. And remind ourselves that people mean well and they're speaking from their own experience (usually), which more often than not stems from a time decades ago and cultures elsewhere. Nevertheless, the doctor's recommendations are reigning supreme around here. If we heeded everyone else's advice, Serene would smell rancid twice a day, her bum would drip of breast milk, and she would be so bundled up that the only skin that would be showing would be her eyes.

Not that we don't listen to advice. We've so much to learn in this amazing new realm of parenting.  We're garnering legit recommendations at every new stage (which seems to occur weekly!). We're so thankful for our community because we're not raising her on our own. But at the end of the day, no one knows a child better than her parents. Even though we're new at this parenting gig, we see her more than those who see her once a year, once a month, or once a week. And I write this to remind myself that as we figure out how to do the best for Serene as we go along, to remember not to startle new parents with my opinions someday.