Magazine

The thud was the exact sort of hollow, resonant sound that makes every parent’s stomach drop instantly into their shoes. It was a wet Tuesday evening in November, the kind of London night where the rain sideways-assaults the windows, and...

It was somewhere around 3:17 in the morning, a time that I'm increasingly convinced exists solely to punish parents for their past life choices. Maya, the slightly more reasonable of my two-year-old twin daughters, was fast asleep in her cot,...

We were sitting around a cramped dining table in Rogers Park when the unsolicited advice started rolling in. My mother-in-law casually mentioned that my husband was walking independently at nine months, heavily implying my ten-month-old was somehow defective for still...