The Brutal Truth About Pacifiers When Everyone Has an Opinion
I was sitting in the hospital bed on day two with my oldest, icing parts of my body I didn't know could swell, when the advice assault began. The hospital lactation consultant pointed a stern finger at my overnight bag...
Dear Past Me: The Ugly, Honest Truth About Useless Baby Mittens
Dear Sarah from exactly six months ago, You're standing in your sister's nursery, surrounded by a mountain of crumpled tissue paper and tiny, impossibly small socks. You're holding a little mesh bag of baby mβwait, what are these even called?...
The Great Infant Hat Standoff: When Your Child Refuses to Wear One
My forehead is currently resting against the cold Victorian anaglypta wallpaper of our hallway, and I'm quietly pleading with a ten-month-old. She is holding her mustard-yellow knitted beanie in her left fist like a triumphant gladiator holding a severed head....
Finding Safe Baby Ear Piercing Near Me: A Dadβs Honest Review
Hey Marcus from six months ago. You're currently sitting in the dark, bathed in the blue light of your phone at 2:14 AM while Maya sleeps on your chest, casually typing baby ear piercing near me into Google Maps like...
The absolute origami nightmare of strapping on a baby carrier
I was standing in the middle of our cramped London kitchen at two in the afternoon, sweating profusely, completely tangled in eighteen feet of modal fabric. One twin was screaming from the bouncy chair on the floor, the other was...
Dear Priya: The messy truth about that baby bullet blender
Dear Priya from six months ago. You're currently standing in the kitchen at eleven at night, staring at a massive pile of organic sweet potatoes. You just bought a specialized baby bullet blender, and you're entirely convinced you're going to...
Finding the Best Adult Bibs for Dignity at the Dinner Table
The gravy hit her white silk blouse before I even had a chance to drop my fork. I'm sitting there at Sunday dinner, wedged between a screaming toddler and my grandmother, watching a massive brown stain spread right across her...
Why a weighted sleep sack almost broke my parenting resolve
The glow of my phone screen was the only light in the nursery, casting long, vaguely sinister shadows over two cots containing infants who had apparently unionised and agreed to strike against sleep. It was 3:14 in the morning. My...
A letter to my pregnant self about newborn clutter and tiny things
I'm writing this to you from the floor of the nursery. It's 2 a.m. in Chicago, the radiator is hissing, and I'm staring at a pile of miniature laundry that somehow multiplies when I blink. You're probably six months pregnant...