I’m All Up In Your Uterus Giving You Bad Mom Advice!

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I have discovered a new label for myself. I’m Bad Advice Mom. The other day my fellow writer Maria Guido  made the statement that she really wanted a cup of coffee. “What’s the deal?” I asked. “You can have coffee! Are you one of those crazy women who think that they can’t consume any caffeine because they are pregnant?” and then I realized I have totally become that person. I’m one of those women who just because I have had three children of my own that I am suddenly the expert on pregnancy and childbirth. And I have zero idea what I am talking about at least 78 percent of the time.

I seriously have no idea if Maria can have caffeine or not. I’m not a doctor. I once became really addicted to this video game called Trauma Team  but that does not make me a doctor and I usually ended up killing my patients in this video game! No one should listen to me ever! I can remember being pregnant 16 years ago with my eldest and having all sorts of women give me advice too, everyone from my mother to complete and total strangers on the street and how weird and annoying I found it and now I’m that weird and annoying person dispensing advice like samples of congealed pulled pork at Costco.

Just because I’ve had three kids, who are all healthy, who were born healthy, who all seem pretty happy (except my middle kid who is still pissy because I made him wear sweatpants under his Halloween costume last night), I suddenly think that I have the right to toss out my little nuggets of bad wisdom whether someone asks me or not. I’m two seconds away from stopping unsuspecting women in the Target parking lot and telling them that their baby really needs to have a sweater on. And announcing to pregnant women I see out in public that I know what the sex of their baby is just by how high or low they are carrying.

I don’t mean any harm by my annoying new habit of giving out bad mom advice. I don’t even know when or how I started doing this. I think this is a symptom of my own kids being almost grown coupled with my age coupled with the fact that I’m a raging know-it-all coupled with the fact I like telling people what to do. You have your own mom or sister or aunt to give you bad mom advice. You don’t need it from me too. Especially when you never asked me for it in the first place! I’m really not trying to weird you out by this, but I really think having a glass of wine on occasion is okay when you are nursing. Or letting your baby sleep in your bed sometimes (as long as you are not smoking crack in the same bed.) Or letting your school age kids sometimes eat Cap’N Crunch for dinner. See? It’s like I just can’t stop.

I’m addicted to giving you bad mom advice. My only credentials are that I have three kids who put their dishes in the dishwasher and are not serial killers (yet) and the fact that I’m a professional writer who writes articles on a website for parents. Other than that I’m just as clueless as everyone else, except I have watched less Dr. Phil episodes and count owning a sweater with a kitten on it as one of my future ambitions.

Just because something has worked out well for me and my family or my doctor let me chug an occasional Diet Coke when I was pregnant doesn’t mean that the same thing holds true for you. Just because I think I know what I am doing and am all too happy to give you my bad mom advice doesn’t mean that you should follow it. Only you and your doctor can decide that. Unless, of course, I am telling you that you don’t have to get back in your skinny jeans two days after giving birth. That’s advice you should totally follow. But it’s not my business or place to tell you anything about anything, unless you ask me. And even then I’m probably not the best person to ask, because the majority of my parenting expertise has come from the fact I own all the seasons of Malcolm In The Middle on DVD. 

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