Unsolicited Advice

Hey again. Nope, I’m not dead, I just feel like it. Had a very fun, but very eventful Labor Day weekend and I kinda just wanna sleep for the rest of the week. But, seeing as that’s not really an option…I might as well blog about what’s on my mind right now. And what’s really chapping my hide at the moment is the age-old phenomenon of unsolicited parenting advice.

I know it might seem like I talk about it a lot, but, I don’t talk about it nearly as much as it happens. I mean, shit, if I had a nickel for every piece of unsolicited advice I’ve been given over the past two years, well, I’d retire now and move the family to the tropics. Seriously, we’d be billionaires.

I don’t know why it is, but, when it comes to child-rearing, everyone wants to weigh in with their ever-so-helpful advice. For the record, there have been times when I’ve sought that advice, and, in that case, well, bring it on, sister or brother, or whoever. But, if I’m not asking for your opinion on something, then, seriously, your job as a good human being is to shut the hell up. Especially when my toddler is throwing a fit or crying.

My favorite is: “Wow, she’s a handful!” which is almost always uttered when she is, indeed, being a handful. It’s like looking up into the pouring rain and saying: “Wow, it sure is raining!” No duh! I mean, seriously, if you ain’t helping me put out the fire, then step the fuck aside, because anything else you say or do at that moment is just more fuel for the flames.

And it’s not just tantrums that bring out people’s inner early-childhood-expert. Pick a topic, any topic, and we’ve been given advice on it, sometimes by total strangers. A woman at Von’s once corrected the way I was putting Greta into the shopping cart. Yep, she said I was doing it wrong. And random strangers are one thing, but when advice comes from someone you love and respect, it’s even worse.

I’m not naming names, but, earlier this summer I was almost reduced to tears by the harsh, totally judgmental parenting “advice” that flew out of the mouth of one of my favorite people. It just about killed me, and it was then that I realized that I was totally done listening to other people’s advice about how to raise my kid.

If my daughter is happy and healthy and bright and beautiful then we are obviously doing something right. So, whether you’ve had kids or your own or not — yep, even the childless singletons give free parenting advice these days, which is just insane to me — please, for the love of God, keep your unsolicited parenting advice to yourselves.

Until you’ve walked a mile in my Crocs, you don’t know my pain, baby. So, zip it!

Aunt Marcia’s Cave of Wonders

My wife’s family has a new house up here, built right next to the old house on the sprawling green farm where they all grew up, and it’s lovely. Big, roomy, plenty of sunlight, a yard that like, literally never ends. But Greta’s favorite feature of the new digs is my Sister-in-Law, Marcia’s, gigantic walk-in pantry. What’s so cool about a walk-in-pantry you ask?

Well, this one is filled to the gills with every type of sugary, sweet, or savory snack food you can imagine. I’m not kidding, it’s like Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory merged with Lays and Pringles or some shit. And for a somewhat-crunchy kid who’s biggest so-good-it’s-bad-for-you treat is usually a bowl of strawberry ice cream or a fruit popsicle at the park, this pantry is like, heaven on earth.

At least once, every day we’ve been here, Greta has run inside the pantry, closed the beautiful, beveled glass door behind her and just stared at all the goodies on the shelf. It’s so funny, you can see her through the glass just staring at the stuff in there with these big old, sugar-coma eyes. I know it sounds crazy, but, I’d be a total hypocrite if I said I didn’t get lost in that cave of wonders myself sometimes too. I mean, seriously, did you know they made S’mores Pop-Tarts? Insanity!

Digging around in the cave of wonders it is readily apparent that the major food manufacturers have found a way to make even the most healthy-sounding treat completely fattening. Take for instance the cereal bar Greta had for breakfast the other day. Cereal bars to me sound like something made with granola or oatmeal and honey and stuff. Maybe, if you’re really dreaming big, it might even have some raisins or chocolate chips thrown in for good measure, right?

Well, not this one! The cereal bar Greta devoured in mere minutes last week was made entirely of Lucky Charms cereal (colorful, multi-shaped marshmallows included!) and then brushed with sweet, vanilla frosting. Yep, frosting! I have never tasted anything so delicious and/or bad for you at the same time in my life. It was awesome, and so far afield from anything Greta would ever get to eat at home, that she just about flipped her lid. Actually, I take that back, I think she really did flip her lid. Seriously. She was high as a kite.

So, my advice to her is to enjoy it now. Because, as you well know, snack time at our house is never this good…or, you know, bad. Either way, next week, it’s back to rice cakes and organic fruit leathers for your cute behind…

People need to be pruning their shit, yo…

OK, maybe I’m just saying this because we are more than halfway through our vacation up here in Oregon and we are still helping my Mother-in-Law unpack her belongings from the move. Yep, part one of the vacation involved the helpful side of my wife’s family (don’t get me started on that other half!), Greta, my wife and I, a moving truck, two cars and four sweaty-ass days of moving. And yes, it was as totally not fun as it sounds.

But what really made things suck was the fact that my very sweet Mother-in-Law — really, she is the best and I love her to death under normal circumstances — had failed to prune anything from her vast collection of crafting gear. I’m not kidding, man, if you took the time to actually create something from every scrap of fabric, yarn and crafting paper in that damn moving truck, you could clothe an entire city for a year. Or, you know, maybe a small island community. But still, it was a lot of shit!

And you wanna know what sucked even worse than the sheer volume of shit we moved? Now that we’re unpacking her shit, my Mother-in-Law has decided that she is finally ready to part with tons of it. Hmmm…that kind of thinking would have been so much more helpful, you know, before we loaded your boxes onto a truck and moved you to another state! Oy…

Anyway, having just gone through something similar with another aging relative, all I can say is: “People need to be pruning their shit, yo…” We have had two garage sales recently and every time we have one, my wife and I prune more shit from our already cluttered garage. And yeah, it sucks to get rid of stuff you love or loved, or thought you could never live without, but, man alive, it sucks even worse to have to wade through someone else’s boxes of insanity later on down the road. So, do you loved one’s a favor, people, and please, for the love of God…prune your shit!

Alright, this concludes my anti-hoarding rant for the day. Thanks for reading!