Dear Past Me: Stop Panicking About Every Baby Poo Colour
Dear Past Me, I know exactly where you're right now. You're standing over the changing table in the nursery at 3:14 AM. You're wearing those gray maternity sweatpants with the bleach stain on the left knee, and you haven't washed...
Surviving the Baby Porcupine Phase (A Letter to My Past Self)
Dear Sarah from six months ago, You're currently sitting on the cold tile of the downstairs bathroom. It’s 2:14 PM on a Tuesday, you’re wearing those tragic gray sweatpants with the bleach stain on the left thigh, and you're hiding...
Why Your Outdoor Baby Bee Sting Panic Is Statistically Flawed
We were sitting on a patch of semi-dry grass at Laurelhurst Park, and I was holding a lukewarm pouch of what the label optimistically called baby beef and sweet potato puree. My 11-month-old son was violently refusing the spoon, slapping...
The absolute chaos of the home baby ball pit (and why we caved)
"Get them a tub of plastic spheres," my mother-in-law announced over Sunday roast, waving her fork for emphasis, "it tires them out." "Don’t you dare," warned Clara from my NCT group a week later, eyes wide over her flat white,...
Baby Announcement Cards: A Postpartum Letter To My Past Self
It's two in the morning. The Chicago winter wind is rattling the bedroom window, and I'm staring at a stack of heavy-stock envelopes sitting next to a cold mug of chai. My breast pump is making that rhythmic, dying-cow sound....
The Truth About Crawling Timelines From A Tired London Twin Dad
I'm currently lying face down on a heavily stained Berber rug, making intense eye contact with a small, unblinking human who has just eaten a piece of fluff. In my outstretched hand is a set of house keys, jangling desperately...
How To Keep A Baby Alive: Sleep, Teeth, And The Absolute Chaos
It was exactly 3:14 AM, and I was standing in the middle of Leo’s nursery wearing a nursing bra that smelled distinctively of sour milk and Dave’s gray college sweatpants. I was sobbing quietly because I couldn't, for the absolute...
Surviving Twins: Why We Chose Baby Snoopy Over The Baby Snoo
I was standing in a damp Oxfam shop on Mare Street, aggressively wiping a half-masticated rice cake off my coat lapel, when I locked eyes with him. It was a slightly faded, ridiculously soft plush beagle from 1996. One of...
What a Freezing Park Day Taught Me About Parenting Like a Wild Cat
It was 14 degrees in late January. Maya was maybe four months old, strapped to my chest in one of those trendy animal-print carriers that I paid way too much for because Instagram told me to. I had three layers...