What I Wish I Discussed With My Partner Before Having My First Baby: Practical Tips For New Parents
Last month I stood in the Target checkout line watching my 3-year-old Lila fling herself onto the sticky tile, screaming so loud the cashier paused her scan. I’d already said no to the cherry lollipop propped by the register—we had a full bag of fruit snacks in the cart for after the grocery run, and Lila had already had two treats that morning. Before I could kneel down to talk her through the disappointment, my husband Jake reached over, grabbed the lollipop, ripped the wrapper, and handed it to her. The screaming stopped instantly. We didn’t say a word the whole drive home.
When we got through the front door, Lila ran off to play with her blocks, and I turned to Jake. “Why did you just override me like that?” I said. He leaned against the fridge, crossing his arms. “She was making a scene. Everyone was staring. I just wanted it to stop, you were taking forever to calm her down.” I said we were supposed to be consistent, that she’d learn screaming gets her what she wants if we caved every time. He said I was overthinking it, she’s three, what does one lollipop matter anyway. That fight hung around the house for the rest of the day, and it got me thinking: when we were talking through everything before having Lila, we never talked about this.
We did all the things new parents are supposed to do. We took the birthing classes, we read all the popular sleep training books, we made a spreadsheet for monthly baby costs, we talked through how we’d handle overstepping in-laws, we even agreed on what religion we’d raise her (if any). We talked about how much leave we’d each take, who would handle night feedings, how we’d split housework. No one ever mentioned that we’d disagree on how to handle kid chaos in real time, and that we needed a plan for that.
Turns out, our disagreement about the lollipop wasn’t really about the lollipop. It was about the unspoken assumptions we each brought from our own childhoods that we never bothered to share. Jake grew up with parents who thought any public embarrassment was worth avoiding, and whoever was closest to the problem got to fix it fast. If one parent was getting frustrated with a tantrum, the other stepped in and did whatever it took to end it, no questions asked. My mom, on the other hand, always backed up whatever the other parent said, even if she disagreed completely. She used to say “We can sort it out later when they’re not listening” because sticking together mattered more than being right in the moment. We never talked about any of that before Lila was born. We just assumed we’d think the same way about that stuff.
After the Target fight, we sat on the couch after Lila went to bed, drank two warm IPAs that had been sitting in the back of the fridge for two weeks, and worked out a few simple ground rules. It didn’t take long, but it’s changed how we navigate parenting disagreements completely. First, we made a subtle signal: if one of us is in the middle of handling a situation, and the other disagrees with what’s happening, you just tug your ear. That means “I have a thought about this, but I’ll wait until we’re alone to say it.” If the person handling the situation tugs their ear back, that means “I’m stuck, I need help, step in however you need to.” It’s quiet enough that no one notices in the checkout line or at a family party, and it keeps either of us from jumping in to overrule without checking in.
Second, we agreed: we don’t overrule each other in front of Lila, ever, unless someone is about to get hurt. If I say no lollipop, Jake backs that up even if he thinks I’m being too strict. If he says no more screen time, I back that up even if I think she could play five more minutes. We save all disagreements for when she’s asleep or not in the room. We already set aside 10 minutes after dinner every night to go over any to-dos for the next day, so we just add any parenting disagreements to that quick chat. If one of us messes up and oversteps anyway, we don’t fight about it in front of Lila. We just say “Daddy and I are going to talk about this for a minute, go play with your blocks” and handle it later.
We still mess up, of course. Last week, we were at my sister’s birthday dinner, and Lila begged to open her present before everyone ate. I said no, we wait until after cake. Ten seconds later, Jake handed her the present and let her open it. I just bit my tongue, and we talked about it on the drive home. He said she was bouncing off the walls with excitement, and it felt mean to make her wait. I said it bugged me that he overruled me in front of everyone. We agreed next time, if he thinks it’s okay to bend the rule, he’ll lean over and whisper “Is this okay?” to me first, instead of just doing it. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than fighting in front of the whole family.
I see so many new parents asking online what topics they need to cover with their partner before having a baby. Everyone talks about money, sleep training, in-laws, and division of housework. No one mentions this small, messy thing that comes up multiple times a week. It’s not the big, dramatic relationship issue that people warn you about, but it’s the thing that caused 80% of our fights the first two years of parenting. Right now, our system works most of the time. We still have bad days, we still step on each other’s toes sometimes. But we don’t leave the Target parking lot mad at each other anymore, and that’s more than enough for us.
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