Sippy Cups Are Not for Chardonnay: And Other Things I Had to Learn as a New Mom by Stefanie Wilder-Taylor

What a quick read. I thought I was going to get a job at a parenting magazine, and since I’m not a parent, I went out and bought a bunch of books on baby raising. I didn’t get the job, and didn’t bother reading this. I finally gave this book a read this weekend.

The author advertises her book as a no nonsense, straight shooting, telling it like it is, reporting from the trenches, real book about having a baby. None of the cutesy fluffy “motherhood is wonder” drab. She lays down the law that she hates it when people tell her how to raise her kid, and she’s going to give the reader the honest look at motherhood no one has dared to put into print.

Yeah, that’s not what this book is. When she starts talking about how she’s a big producer and writer living in LA, that pretty discounts this book will be relatable to 95% of the people who have children. The book reads like it’s a throwaway script of jokes that didn’t make the cut for a crappy parenthood TV show. One such gem is “if you’re dying for your child to speak Chinese, why not adopt a Chinese kid? The upside is in a few years they can do your taxes. On the other hand, they’ll cost you a bundle in car insurance.”

Like I said, I’ve never had a child, and this book still didn’t seem to line up with anything any of my friends who do have kids have told me about motherhood. She goes to great lengths to prove she’s not one of those crazy alpha moms. The ones who take charge at mommy and me classes or demands the toys are sterilized before a play date. With the great use of italics, sentences that begin with “Believe me”, and overused cliches, she tries to prove she was a laid back, cool mom right out of the gate, and that’s what all new moms should try to be. Maybe she was so oblivious before having her first child that literally everything related to a baby was new to her, but there’s so much she makes a big deal out of that even I knew as commonplace.

It’s probably because I couldn’t relate to all the screaming, sleepless nights, or something biting my boobs, but I just didn’t find this book that entertaining. If you are sleep deprived and want to read someone trying to tell you in fifty different ways how much that sucks, then you might really enjoy this.

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