Pulling the plug on unsolicited parenting advice

Jennifer Riddall - 21 Sep 17

Unsolicited parenting advice is my biggest pet peeve.

When it comes from older relatives, I smile sweetly and tell myself they mean well. But when it’s doled out by people who don’t have kids, or, worse, people I don’t know well (or at all), the red mist descends. So when the lady who cleans (or cleaned) our house lectured me on the topic of parenting for the umpteenth time, I totally lost my rag.

Before getting to the main event, I’ll explain why we hired a cleaner. Not that I need to justify this life choice, it’s just that someone I know scoffed in disbelief when they found out we hired help… as if people living in semi-detached houses don’t need it. Our home definitely doesn’t resemble Downton Abbey (thankfully – think of all the dusting. And the drama!), but I’m happy to pay money in exchange for a regular house clean. Especially when pregnant and permanently knackered – both of which applied to me when we hired the lady in question.

Initially, I was dubious about the idea – nobody could arrange the cushions or scrub the shower like I could – but I think the words I uttered to my husband after that first clean were,”Why the hell haven’t we had a cleaner until now?”

I was a total convert from the get go. Even if she did leave early after finishing her usual routine – rather than asking if there was anything else to do in the time we paid her to be here. Not that it worked the other way round – like the time she left, literally, halfway through mopping the kitchen floor because her two-and-a-half hours were up. But other than that she did a good job.

She was recommended by a friend’s cleaner, who is lovely and as quiet as a mouse. They are “the best of friends” according to my cleaner. I suspect their friendship status isn’t entirely mutual.

She was no wallflower, but I put this down to cultural differences – her being from Lithuania and me from England – and decided not to take it too personally when she called me “STUPID” for rescuing a baby bird from the paws of my cat. Or when she laughed uncontrollably at my choice of cleaning products.

So my house was clean and things were fine for the most part until about a month before my due date, when she really started to grate on me. Her last four visits before I gave birth to my daughter began a little like this:

Her: “JESUS CHRIST! YOU ARE MASSIVE!”

Me: Polite laugh through gritted teeth.

Her: “You are still here?” (I still had OVER A MONTH until my due date.)

Me: “Yup, still here!”

Her: “WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE?” (All being well, I had plans to still be here after I had given birth.)

Me: “Baby not here yet. Still a month to go.” (Another polite laugh through slightly more gritted teeth.)

Her: “WHY YOUR BABY NOT ARRIVED YET?”

And on it went until I told her I needed to sit down and return to my back-to-back episode viewing of whatever I was watching on Netflix.

I’m sure you’ll agree that ‘any sign’ and ‘you are massive’ are only two of the absolute worst things you can say to a heavily pregnant woman. So you can imagine just how f*cking annoying this dialogue became when I was forced to partake in it every week in the run-up to giving birth. Thank goodness I didn’t go past my due date! Although, maybe the stress of this ridiculous conversation sent me into labour, considering my daughter was born only a few hours after our house was cleaned…

My contractions started just before the cleaner arrived, but instead of cancelling her visit (like any normal person would have done), I was in denial about the whole Having A Baby Thing, and more concerned about the fact the beds needed changing. I put the pains down to “a bit of stomach ache every 20 minutes or so” and found myself standing in the hall enduring more ridiculous chat like, “Why is your baby not here yet?” whilst pretending I wasn’t having a contraction right there and then, and thinking how my baby was probably going to be here very soon if she didn’t hurry up and do the clean. I eventually walked away (when she was mid-sentence) to have a little cry on the bathroom floor, and, as soon as she left, we jumped in the car to the hospital. Esme was born just five hours later.

Once all the excitement of wondering when the baby would arrive was over (because the baby had arrived – five days before her due date), I was hopeful that normal cleaning business would resume. But things just got a whole lot worse. This lady had now taken it upon herself to become not just my cleaner but my midwife, GP, parent guru, career advisor and general life coach.

Here are just some of the pearls of wisdom she bestowed upon me in my fragile New Mother State:

• When I asked her to clean the spare bedroom: “You should not have guests staying here when you have a new baby; people have germs!”
• The week after I had given birth: “Jesus Christ, your house is so dusty! Dust is bad for your baby. What have you been doing?”
• “Do you ever put that baby down? You hold her too much. Every time I see you, you are holding her.”
• “Your cat was in your bedroom. Jesus Christ, don’t let him in there; he has germs and your baby is not vaccinated yet.”
• When I was in the house: “You should be outside walking your baby in the pram. Go outside and get fresh air!”
• When I was leaving the house: “Why are you going outside with your baby? It’s too cold!”
• The time my husband played a baby music video: “NO, NO, NO, NO! SHE IS TOO YOUNG TO WATCH THAT! TOO YOUNG! In Lithuania we don’t let babies see TV until they are 12 months old.”
• When a health visitor suggested I elevate the Moses Basket to help with reflux: “Why is the basket up? It is bad for baby’s back and you will harm her spine.”

The final straw came when I put my daughter (then eight months old) in childcare for a couple of hours because I was on a work deadline for the first time since I went on maternity leave. “YOU ARE WORKING? ALREADY? IT IS TOO SOON! TOO SOON!” I walked away and bit my tongue, but she followed me. “Where is your baby?”

I responded calmly, knowing what was coming next. “In nursery,” I said.

She shook her head and turned away, muttering, “That is such a shame. SUCH a shame.”

The next few minutes were a bit of a blur, but I do recall shouting at her to come back as she tried to escape my wrath whilst clutching Henry The Hoover. I explained she was in nursery for a trial run because I had to work but had no family nearby. True to form, she continued to defend her point – “She is too young for nursery! It is too soon for you to work!” – without so much as a whiff of an apology.

So I told her it was none of her business and if she wasn’t able to stop giving me advice on how to parent, she shouldn’t come back again. But could she still clean the house one last time because it was a mess and I was on deadline. So she did, and of course she only went and did her best clean ever. And she stayed the full two-and-a-half hours. My husband, ever the optimist, said it was her way of an apology. I know she did it just to piss me off.

If I’m honest, it definitely stung a little the following week when I had to try and clean the place in-between daytime naps. (Difficult when your baby isn’t a fan of these.) But you know what? I would take unmade beds over unsolicited baby advice any day. Which, for someone who is as obsessive about cleaning as I am, is saying something.

Jennifer Riddall

Mum of two. Wife to one. Journalist by trade.

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