HOW TO DEAL WITH UNWANTED PARENTING ADVICE

Unsolicited advice seems to come at you from all angles when you're a parent, and sometimes it's easy to laugh off. But I recently had an experience that left me speechless. I was in the grocery store parking lot, struggling to steer my heavy cart with one hand (and, uh, foot) and holding my toddler, who had just had a very public meltdown, in the other hand. I looked up and saw a man who looked shockingly like Ian McKellen approaching. "So sweet!" I thought. "Gandalf is going to offer to help!"

Yeah...no. Instead, he leaned in and said, "You should be ashamed of yourself for not having a hat on that child." My mouth dropped open as he walked away.

Never mind that it was nearly 60 degrees out—his comment made me feel equally pissed off, devastated, and confused. Should I have had a wooly hat on my kid when some college kids are probably out sunbathing? Am I a crappy mom? Did Ian McKellen move to my town? (Also, way to kick me when I'm down, dude.)

This isn't the first time a total stranger has publicly questioned my parenting skills. When my son was a colicky infant, a woman once crossed the street to tell me that he was crying because he didn't like his blanket. Apparently she had an intimate knowledge of my baby and his fabric preferences. I've also been told that I had the wrong type of shoes on my son and wasn't feeding him the "right" kind of yogurt.

I should have known this would happen once I had a baby—I got it all the time when my dog was a puppy. In fact, a couple on the street once took his leash from me in order to demonstrate the "proper" way to walk a dog, while I stood there wondering if this was the yuppie version of dog-napping. I'm beginning to think I have a tattoo that says "please critique my caregiving skills" on my forehead in ink that's only visible to judgey men and women.

"You're too nice," my friend Sara told me when I complained about my recent grocery store run-in. "I would have told that guy to shove it." She might be right. Despite living in New York City for years, I still walk around smiling and offer to help strangers in a pinch. Sure, I would have loved to have given the grocery store guy a round-house kick to the head, but I didn't. It's not how I roll, and I'm guessing that would probably fall under the category of setting a bad example for my kid. Then again, so is taking crap from random strangers.

A quick poll of my friends found that some have never received unsolicited advice from strangers, while others have gotten it plenty. "A woman once berated me for taking my daughter to a car wash when she was a month old," said my friend Laurie. She's also been criticized by a stranger for carrying her baby in a sling, which tons of women do. Other friends have gotten unwanted feedback on everything from potty training to discipline. Why does this happen to some of us, but not others?

In search of professional guidance, I reached out to psychologist Stacy Haynes, author of Powerful Peaceful Parenting. She says unsolicited advice is pretty normal when you're a parent but that parents who give off nice vibes tend to get it more. Many people pick up on the fact that some of us are friendly, she says, so they think we'll just listen and take their advice—no matter how harsh it may sound. "The best thing to do is to address their advice head-on," she says.

Next time I get cornered by an Oprah wannabe, Haynes recommends a simple, "Thank you. I appreciate your concern," and then moving on. That helps me to come off as polite but makes it clear that I have no interest in continuing the conversation.

Okay, easy enough. But my biggest problem is that I dwell on it afterward. I know I'm a good mom, but I'm still pretty new at this. When a stranger tells me I'm messing up at parenting, it a) makes me feel like crap and b) highlights that my son is basically a human guinea pig, a fact that I'm all too aware of.

To shake it off, Haynes recommends walking away, taking a few deep breaths, and reminding myself of all of the ways that I'm a good mom, chief of which is that I've managed to keep my son alive and happy so far. She also points out that it's good to remember that most people don’t offer up parenting advice to be mean—they genuinely think they're being helpful. The last point doesn't help me feel better, but it does give a little more perspective.

Now, I feel slightly less nervous when I see judgey-looking strangers watching when I'm out with my son—I'm armed with a serious arsenal for the next time I get an unwanted comment. Because, let's face it: There will probably be a next time. In the meantime, I'm going to practice my bitch face in public. It can't hurt, right?