Crying babies are always hungry

Why is it that crying babies are always hungry?

You know, you're walking around in the grocery store one kiddo is being perfect and the other one is fussy and some nice, old lady walks up to you, smiles and says, "Oh, I think she's hungry! What you hear is, "clearly you don't know how to feed your children, otherwise they wouldn't be crying in the store, and seeing as I'm a perfect stranger and the ultimate source of information on all things child I suggest you feed your crying baby."

Now, to the credit of the unsuspecting lady who's trying to be helpful thank you for trying to be helpful. Really, it's very nice of you to be so thoughtful. (Brace yourself here comes the but) But, sometimes babies just cry. It's true. I wouldn't lie to you.

When we were getting close to having our second daughter, Emery, I told Jordyn that babies don't have any words like she did, so the only way they can tell us if they are tired or hungry or need something is by crying (the talk continued to include how Jordyn didn't need to start crying at us because she had words, and that one day Emery would too). Sometimes I feel like offering this talk to those nice ladies at the grocery store that insists my baby is hungry.

I don't know what it is about this situation that causes me to smile on the outside and turn into a territorial, raging bear on the inside (claws, grunts and slobber included). It could be the frequency of these helpful advice givers. Who knows?

Both of our girls are small. Like in the 2nd percentile small. This means that I get double feeding advice anytime we're out in public. In St. Louis people always assume it's because I don't give them milk. I'll be walking around the store and some lady (Why is it always the ladies? Not once have I had a man walk up to me and offer any advice) will waddle over to my shopping cart and say, "My, she's small. You should give her some milk!" Again I generally smile and say something like, "She's just petite" or "Thanks." What I'm thinking is, "Gee, why haven't I thought of that? Grumble, grumble."

I should say, probably should have said sooner, that it's not that I don't want advice. Goodness knows I've consulted enough parenting books I could probably have a degree in child development. It's just that I don't want advice from a stranger--especially when said stranger's toddler is halfway through a family size bag of Cheetos and is drinking a 2 liter of off-brand soda. Somehow the combination makes the delivery of their milk-drinking advice so much more offensive.

I should grapple for some of the responsibility of these situations here. I know that I can be a little (a lot) bit sensitive to parenting advice. I take my job as a full-time mother very seriously. Therefore, any critiques tossed my way set off my oh-crap-I'm-messing-my-children-up-better-read-another-parenting-book-now alarms. So in this sense I probably need to tone it down.

But please, for the love, STOP offering strangers advice on anything unless requested. Something about pregnancy/parenting makes you public property. I don't know how I survived the first 23 years of my life with all these do-gooders, but I kind of like the learn-as-you-go approach to life. Here's my challenge to the advice-givers: why don't you try being helpful in another way. For example, taking the cart back is always super stressful. We live in a really big city with lots of crime so I'm always worried that when I walk 15 feet away from my car some guy is going to hop in my car and take off with my babies (it happens often around here, and then they just drop the kids off in some neighborhood on the side of the road). Why don't you offer to return my cart or hold open the door. Then I would sing you praises instead of wanting to clobber you with my spaghetti squash.