Q: My partner and I have a NINE-month-old and our sex life is virtually non-existent. any recommendations for how to get us back on track?

Did you notice that newborn babies have a sinister form of orgasm-ESP? They immediately require assistance whenever one or more parents approach climax. As far as I can tell, they grow out of it at around six months. Assuming that your child has, too, ask yourself: Are there any physical impediments to getting it on, such as lingering pain from episiotomy or tearing? What about emotional hitches? Are you both ready to have sex again? If no other hold-ups apply, I’ll wager you just can’t find time at the end of the day for a romp in the sack (or the shower, or the backseat or wherever). Welcome to parenthood. The trick is changing your routine. Do it in the morning. Do it when Teletubbies is on. Schedule sex dates. Do whatever you can, as often as you can, to fit sex in. If it gets you back in the saddle, as they say, it’s all good.

No one told me that mom and baby have to learn to breastfeed!

This may be the greatest—and most discouraging—myth of motherhood. Your baby plops out, you bring the little darling to your breast and… nine times out of ten, nothing happens except you get a goobery baby French kissing your nipple. Apparently, they don’t spend nine months in there beefing up on La Leche League pamphlets. Breastfeeding is a challenge—cracked and bleeding nipples, 10-pound breasts, wet spots on your clothes. But take heart: The culprit is almost always poor latching. Pop your clean finger in your baby’s mouth to break the death-like lip-grip, get her to open wide and try again. And again. And again. When it hurts, breathe and count to 10. One day, it’ll just click. And it’s smooth sailing from there. (Until the day your child latches on in a grocery store—that’s a whole other set of worries.)

My partner and I are considering having a baby. How much of a parenting philosophy should we develop before we actually get our hands dirty?

Your attachment to your baby will be the most intense, unfaltering bond you’ll likely ever develop. If you cling to a specific parenting philosophy as steadfastly, you’re doomed. It’s great to have principles (for instance, “my baby will be a cloth-diapered, home-schooled vegan”) but understand that your baby is actually a living, peeing human being. And if she decides tofu isn’t for her, there’s nothing you can do about it. Likewise, no matter how committed you are to a TV-free one-year-old, sometimes you need 20 minutes to yourself. Barney the dinosaur won’t cause permanent brain damage. The key to your continued sanity is accepting the chaos theory of parenting: Anything can happen and flexibility in dealing with it is crucial.

My partner and I are about to have our first child. Will our lives ever be the same?

Never. You are about to enter a world of toxic orange poop, spit-up and, potentially, a mysterious illness called the Croup, which causes your newborn to wake at 3 a.m. and whelp like a seal caught in a ship’s rudder. Of course, there are also Dr. Seuss books, and the first time your child says, “I love you.” A friend once asked me, six months into parenting, “Is it getting easier?” It never gets easier. It only gets different.

Is it okay to go to tim hortons with your baby at 6:30 a.m. before changing his 5-pound, pee-soaked, about-to-leak-everywhere diaper?

Yes. Society allows new parents—especially dishevelled-looking ones—a sizeable number of indiscretions. You need coffee. You go. Smile with modest exasperation at the other customers every so often and enjoy your double-double.