Real Advice for New Parents: The Shit You Need to Know

So Johnson’s Baby Australia are running a cutesy little promotion on their Facebook page, which I was lucky enough to stumble across in my newsfeed despite the fact that all my friends stubbornly persist with posting their own petty nonsense about moving house, Instagram pics of their snotty brats, pseudo-fancy food they’ve eaten, lame dick jokes and other assorted non-advertising related material.

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The promotion in question is designed for mums to share their own words of wisdom to create a patchwork quilt of comforting advice and support for new mums. For starters, my words of wisdom would be printed on a nicotine patch instead of a fabric one, because my kids make me want to take up smoking again every single goddamn day, but, I digress. I read the thread and quite frankly, it was filled with the kind of empty, forcibly cheery platitudes I found utterly useless as a first time mum with a new baby.

“Every second is precious”.

“Happy mum, happy bub”.

“Don’t forget about YOU!!!”

I swear to god, if I hadn’t seen these babies come out of my vagina with my own two eyes I would swear blind that I was born without ovaries and a uterus. I think I’ve missed some crucial female chromosome or something because these women all just seem to speak a foreign tongue to me, none of it any use. I like gritty reality, I like straight talking. I think we do each other a significant disservice as women and mothers not to share the ugly truths with each other more freely and more often without all the bullshit sugar-coating.

Now, this is the kind of stuff I wish that someone had said to me. Stuff I didn’t know. Stuff I needed to know.

babies shit

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Check out the sequel to this post: More advice for new parents

One thought on “Real Advice for New Parents: The Shit You Need to Know

  1. Oh god, tell me about it. Every fricking time I leave the house (or so it feels), some well meaning idiot will comment on what a delightful child I have, isn’t he just so friendly, can’t you just see the spark of intelligence in his eyes, blah blah blah. And without fail I bow to social conditioning and respond with a saccharine “yes, I’m very lucky.” When in fact my life is filled with far more shitty moments than delightful ones, and yet I’m too wussy to be honest about it with total strangers because it’s not the done thing. My role in this subterfuge gives me the shits. I expected better of myself. But instead I’m very lucky.

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