Although scientists are still working out the exact details, sometime about 100,000 to 190,000 years ago homo sapiens sapiens--the redundantly-named wise wise human--evolved. I can think of several reasons why picking a basic baby care and parenting guide must have been much easier back then.
For one thing, our wise wise ancestors usually lived, hunted, gathered, and slept in small packs. Chances were pretty good that a fully-mobile and interactive guide--also known as a grandparent, grandparent in law, or other wise elder human--was around. Having already screwed up their own children (usually you), these elder humans were full of wisdom on what not to do. Nuggets of knowledge like "Turns out keeping a saber tooth IS totally bad ass, but not a safe family pet," "Childproof your fire pit by circling rocks around it, just remember cousin Blister," and so on. It is because of the cumulative knowledge gained through thousands of years of observations by these wise elder humans that we eventually arrived at the boppy pillow.
Another reason that good baby care guides were easier to find back then is that the whole survival of the species thing was very much in. Wise wise elders scored some major popularity points by helping you figure out how to keep your younglings around long enough to become wise wise themselves. The more successful they were at helping your pack's younglings stay around that long, the more likely they were to get invited to parties and score some swag. ("Hi Gurp. Nice to see you. Thanks for keeping my kid alive that one time. Sure you can have some of my mastodon. Anytime.")
Also, there was no writing.
How things have evolved. We take survival for granted, our packs consist of the server at our favorite lunch spot and the barista at the local coffee bar, our wise wise elders live in Florida and throw their own parties, and the whole writing thing really took off in the last five millennia.
A lot of that writing has been devoted to replacing the fully-mobile and interactive wise wise elder with a less costly, equally mobile, but much less interactive written guide. With more than fifty million copies sold, Dr. Spock's (the pediatrician not the Vulcan) Common Sense Book of Baby and Child Care is one of the best selling books of all time (less copies than the Bible, more than Who Stole my Cheese?). And he's far from the only game in town. Heidi Murkoff, Arlene Eisenberg, and Sandee Hathaway, all of What to Expect When You're Expecting fame, have an entire series of books to subtly freak parents out about their children's failure to meet expectations through the first year, the second year, and the toddler years (In the works: What to Expect When Your Kid Graduates College in a Down Economy and Moves Back In). By comparison, the American Academy of Pediatrics offers you a bundled bargain (they are--gladly--doctors not businesspeople) with the much more comprehensive single volume Caring for Your Baby and Young Child: Birth to Age 5. Point is, if you are of the reading, non-pack living, and still survival-of-the-species-focused kind, there are rich pickings. (Amazon.com offers you more than one thousand options of these mobile, non-interactive, written guides).
Its a little overwhelming.
Maybe it's just an evolutionary leftover from our shared early ancestors, but for me the ideal baby care book should be like the ideal wise wise elder of yore: Useful, easy to spend time with, available when required, and funny when it needs to be. So--while copies of many of the aforementioned books do grace my shelves and were purchased by me--for my money one of the best baby books out there is The Baby Owner's Manual (Owner's and Instruction Manual) by Louis Borgenicht and Joe Borgenicht. Taking advantage of the tech-focused lives of modern wise wise folk, the book recasts the traditional baby care guide as the type of owner's manual you get with a new smartphone (helpful illustrations included). In doing so, these authors have managed to put together a book that is as informative and helpful as it is entertaining. Literally everyone who has picked it up in our house--including one of the hardest to please wise wise elders when it comes to baby care, my mother in law--has read it cover to cover, with audible laughs in between.
Here is a typical selection taken from one of the early chapters (p 16-17.):
Being the much more diligent, and freaked out, of what The Baby Owner's Manual might call our baby's end users, Sharon has dutifully studied her way through the American Academy of Pediatrics book. Although this has come in handy at times, there is a surprising number of times that we've learned something helpful about our baby not because of the excellent compendium brought to print by the august body of fine physicians for tiny wise wise humans, but because the silly little book that a good friend gifted us presented it in a simple and memorable manner
For a book that you can finish in one sitting, The Baby Owner's Manual covers a surprising amount of topics in a straightforward and practical manner. Changing diapers, childproofing your home, dealing with separation anxiety, hiccups, you name it, its likely to be there. Moreover, it's manual size allows you to toss it in the stroller or other "Essential Transportation Accessory" (once you've read the section, beginning on page 30, on picking and using one) and have it handy when/if its needed. The big book by the august group of experts is still on our shelf, and often gets visited for a second opinion, but the The Baby Owner's Manual has become an incredibly useful cliff's notes version. If you count yourself among the more diligent, and freaked out, of your baby's end users, I should also note that one of the manual's authors is a fine physician for tiny wise wise humans, just like the best-selling Vulcan.
We've been lucky to have the wise elders in our pack make frequent visits, and one is even staying with us for the time (and will undoubtedly be written about in the safer future), but--on that surprisingly not infrequent moment that you want to feel competent without your wise elders (or one-up them because the passive looks of pity and disapproval have become too much to bear)--this book is something that may have been worth the 150,000-ish year wait.
Note to my readers: No one other than my all-too-kind friends and family read my rants, so it should go without saying that someone compensating me in any form for a positive recommendation of their baby product--though appreciated--would be a terrible investment of their resources. Therefore, no one has so far.
For one thing, our wise wise ancestors usually lived, hunted, gathered, and slept in small packs. Chances were pretty good that a fully-mobile and interactive guide--also known as a grandparent, grandparent in law, or other wise elder human--was around. Having already screwed up their own children (usually you), these elder humans were full of wisdom on what not to do. Nuggets of knowledge like "Turns out keeping a saber tooth IS totally bad ass, but not a safe family pet," "Childproof your fire pit by circling rocks around it, just remember cousin Blister," and so on. It is because of the cumulative knowledge gained through thousands of years of observations by these wise elder humans that we eventually arrived at the boppy pillow.
Another reason that good baby care guides were easier to find back then is that the whole survival of the species thing was very much in. Wise wise elders scored some major popularity points by helping you figure out how to keep your younglings around long enough to become wise wise themselves. The more successful they were at helping your pack's younglings stay around that long, the more likely they were to get invited to parties and score some swag. ("Hi Gurp. Nice to see you. Thanks for keeping my kid alive that one time. Sure you can have some of my mastodon. Anytime.")
Also, there was no writing.
How things have evolved. We take survival for granted, our packs consist of the server at our favorite lunch spot and the barista at the local coffee bar, our wise wise elders live in Florida and throw their own parties, and the whole writing thing really took off in the last five millennia.
A lot of that writing has been devoted to replacing the fully-mobile and interactive wise wise elder with a less costly, equally mobile, but much less interactive written guide. With more than fifty million copies sold, Dr. Spock's (the pediatrician not the Vulcan) Common Sense Book of Baby and Child Care is one of the best selling books of all time (less copies than the Bible, more than Who Stole my Cheese?). And he's far from the only game in town. Heidi Murkoff, Arlene Eisenberg, and Sandee Hathaway, all of What to Expect When You're Expecting fame, have an entire series of books to subtly freak parents out about their children's failure to meet expectations through the first year, the second year, and the toddler years (In the works: What to Expect When Your Kid Graduates College in a Down Economy and Moves Back In). By comparison, the American Academy of Pediatrics offers you a bundled bargain (they are--gladly--doctors not businesspeople) with the much more comprehensive single volume Caring for Your Baby and Young Child: Birth to Age 5. Point is, if you are of the reading, non-pack living, and still survival-of-the-species-focused kind, there are rich pickings. (Amazon.com offers you more than one thousand options of these mobile, non-interactive, written guides).
Its a little overwhelming.
Maybe it's just an evolutionary leftover from our shared early ancestors, but for me the ideal baby care book should be like the ideal wise wise elder of yore: Useful, easy to spend time with, available when required, and funny when it needs to be. So--while copies of many of the aforementioned books do grace my shelves and were purchased by me--for my money one of the best baby books out there is The Baby Owner's Manual (Owner's and Instruction Manual) by Louis Borgenicht and Joe Borgenicht. Taking advantage of the tech-focused lives of modern wise wise folk, the book recasts the traditional baby care guide as the type of owner's manual you get with a new smartphone (helpful illustrations included). In doing so, these authors have managed to put together a book that is as informative and helpful as it is entertaining. Literally everyone who has picked it up in our house--including one of the hardest to please wise wise elders when it comes to baby care, my mother in law--has read it cover to cover, with audible laughs in between.
Here is a typical selection taken from one of the early chapters (p 16-17.):
The Baby:So forth and so on, with an accompanying two page technical diagram to help you identify the correct location and placement of each of your baby's components. Very non-threatening and very easy to remember.
Diagram and Parts List
Virtually all current models come pre-installed with the following features and capabilities. If a baby is missing one or more of the functions described herein, contact the baby's service provider immediately.
The Head
Head: May initially appear unusually large or even cone-shaped, depending on model and delivery option. A cone-shaped head will become more rounded after four to eight weeks.
...
Neck:Upon arrival this feature may appear useless. This is not a defect. The neck will become more useful in two to four months.
Being the much more diligent, and freaked out, of what The Baby Owner's Manual might call our baby's end users, Sharon has dutifully studied her way through the American Academy of Pediatrics book. Although this has come in handy at times, there is a surprising number of times that we've learned something helpful about our baby not because of the excellent compendium brought to print by the august body of fine physicians for tiny wise wise humans, but because the silly little book that a good friend gifted us presented it in a simple and memorable manner
For a book that you can finish in one sitting, The Baby Owner's Manual covers a surprising amount of topics in a straightforward and practical manner. Changing diapers, childproofing your home, dealing with separation anxiety, hiccups, you name it, its likely to be there. Moreover, it's manual size allows you to toss it in the stroller or other "Essential Transportation Accessory" (once you've read the section, beginning on page 30, on picking and using one) and have it handy when/if its needed. The big book by the august group of experts is still on our shelf, and often gets visited for a second opinion, but the The Baby Owner's Manual has become an incredibly useful cliff's notes version. If you count yourself among the more diligent, and freaked out, of your baby's end users, I should also note that one of the manual's authors is a fine physician for tiny wise wise humans, just like the best-selling Vulcan.
We've been lucky to have the wise elders in our pack make frequent visits, and one is even staying with us for the time (and will undoubtedly be written about in the safer future), but--on that surprisingly not infrequent moment that you want to feel competent without your wise elders (or one-up them because the passive looks of pity and disapproval have become too much to bear)--this book is something that may have been worth the 150,000-ish year wait.
Note to my readers: No one other than my all-too-kind friends and family read my rants, so it should go without saying that someone compensating me in any form for a positive recommendation of their baby product--though appreciated--would be a terrible investment of their resources. Therefore, no one has so far.
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