My favourite book about babies (The Poo Bomb) on books about babies:
The Thirty Year Rule
I have lots of parenting books, and they take great delight in telling me radically different things. You pick an opinion, and I got a book which says doing anything else will break my baby's brain.
I'm supposed to have weaned her off the pacifier by now. Or not. I'm supposed to make her a vegetarian. Or not. You have to breast feed her for years. Or not. I'm not supposed to let her sleep with an old, stuffed monkey. Or... No, that one's for sure.
Of course, there was much confusion. I grew weary, so I gave myself relief. This quiet week has given me the chance to ponder my number one rule for making all parenting decisions: "The Thirty Year Rule." it goes like this:
"If deciding something one way or the other doesn't have a clear, likely effect on what the kid will be like when she's thirty, I can do whatever I want."
So, for example, basic education. This makes a difference. No choice there. She has to learn to read. And we have to feed her. And, to give another example, circumcision has an actual effect on someone's life when they're thirty, so you have to think carefully about that decision. (Unless, of course, it's a girl. Not having to think about circumcision is one of the primary advantages of having a girl.)
But pacifiers? I can do what I want. Hey, maybe infant pacifier use will make some difference (who knows what?) down the road when Cordelia turns 30. But I doubt it. Attachment parenting? Co-sleeping? Organic baby food? Playing Mozart? These things might make a difference when the kid is 30. In an infinite universe, everything is possible. But the effect is neither "likely", nor "clear." So who gives a shit? The kid will sleep in a crib, eat Gerbers processed apple goo, listen to Led Zeppelin, and LIKE IT!
And I can guess what you're thinking now. Something along the lines of "Oh, that's reasonable advice. You can get away with all sorts of things. As long, of course, as you make sure to use cloth diapers/carry it around in a sling until it's 12/only dress it in clothes made of hemp/whatever stupid thing I've decided is the One True Secret of child-rearing, and makes the child healthy and a Mensa member and keeps away the SIDS."
New parents, myself included, are twitchy, freaked out souls with the tendency to make dysfunctional mountains out of developmental molehills. I say, fuck it. Feed the kid. Dress it. Bathe it. Hug it. Beyond that, dowhatchawant. All those extras may be as likely to harm as help in the long run, anyway.
www.ironycentral.com/babymain.html