Magazine
My 3 AM Battle with the Solly Baby: 15 Feet of Fabric vs Dad
Before my son arrived, everyone had a totally conflicting theory about how I was supposed to carry him around. My sister-in-law told me to just buy a canvas backpack thing with heavy plastic buckles and strap him to my chest...
Gravity, sofas, and the dizzying truth about spinning babies
"Don't try to pull me by the shoulders, Tom, you'll misalign my pelvis," Sarah hissed. She was currently suspended upside down with her knees on our mustard yellow sofa and her forearms flat on the living room rug, her face...
What nobody tells you about babies and the great sugar debate
I was standing in my kitchen last Thanksgiving, elbow-deep in a massive pot of mashed potatoes, when out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mom unwrapping a little caramel log. She was aiming it right at my...
Finding the Calm in the Chaos with a Sweet Baby James Lullaby
I was standing in my oldest son's nursery at 3:14 in the morning, wearing a nursing tank top that smelled strongly of sour milk and desperation, violently swaying back and forth. Three weeks prior, at my beautifully curated baby shower,...
Why "The Babys" Sleep Rules Broke Me (And What Really Worked)
I was standing in the kitchen at 3:17 AM wearing a gray maternity bra that smelled aggressively like sour milk and desperation. My husband, Dave, was asleep—or pretending to be asleep, the bastard—while I was furiously typing misspelled medical queries...
There Goes My Baby: Surviving the Absurdity of the Newborn Phase
I'm standing in our freezing London kitchen at 4:12 in the morning, holding what appears to be a very angry, red-faced sweet potato wrapped in a slightly damp muslin cloth, when my phone, completely unprompted, shuffles to an R&B playlist...
The Tiffany Trump Baby Reality Check: Postpartum Is Just Messy
I was elbow-deep in a diaper blowout at three in the morning when I first saw the announcement. I was wiping zinc oxide off my elbow, trying not to wake my husband, just blindly scrolling my feed. That was when...
The Brutal Truth About Hip Carriers From a Broken Twin Dad
Tuesday, 4:15 PM. The rain is pelting the roof of my battered estate car in the Waitrose car park. One twin is arching her back like an angry prawn, absolutely refusing to be extracted from her baby car seat. The...
Teething Nightmares, 90s Nostalgia, and the Vanilla Ice Ice Ice Baby
It was 3:14 AM on a Tuesday, and our kitchen floor was aggressively cold. Maya was six months old and shrieking like a tiny, angry banshee because her bottom left tooth was trying to break through her gums with the...