Magazine
The Chinese Gender Calendar Trap: A Letter to Past Me at 3 AM
Dear Tom from six months ago, I know exactly what you're doing right now. You're sitting on the closed lid of the downstairs toilet at 2:13 AM, the harsh bathroom light burning your retinas, holding a plastic Tesco pregnancy test...
Late Night Googling: Cheer Up Baby Full Movie and Other Tactics
The glow of my phone screen was the only light in the living room, and it was aggressively illuminating the spit-up crusted on my left shoulder. It was 2:14 AM. My husband was snoring in the bedroomβa sound that made...
Why that cheer up baby dailymotion search won't fix the crying
The glow of a smartphone screen at three in the morning is uniquely depressing. My son was doing that arched-back, red-faced screaming thing. I had a bottle in one hand, a pacifier clamped in my teeth, and I was frantically...
Surviving the bye bye baby phase without losing your mind
I'm standing in the doorway of a toddler room that smells like wet wipes and desperation. My daughter's fingers are locked into the fabric of my jeans with the grip strength of a rock climber. Another mother just walked in,...
I Survived the Buybuy Baby Relaunch (And My Wife's Registry List)
I was sitting in the driver's seat of my Honda Civic last Tuesday, blinking stupidly at a massive blue and white sign in a New Jersey strip mall, completely convinced I had slipped into an alternate timeline. My wife, Sarah,...
The myth of the peacefully occupied infant (and how to survive a bu...
I currently have one foot planted firmly on a rogue piece of Tupperware, while the other is trying to gently slide a half-eaten rice cake out from under the sofa before the dog finds it. The twins, at two years...
The brutally honest guide to naming a boy
I was thirty-four weeks pregnant, sitting in the hospital cafeteria with a lukewarm grilled cheese, getting bombarded via text. My mother-in-law insisted we needed something that commanded respect in a boardroom, preferably something multi-syllabic and deeply traditional. The charge nurse...
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...
Finding the best formula for babies: A letter to my past self
You're standing in aisle four of the Hollywood Fred Meyer, it's 2:14 AM, and the fluorescent lights are making your left eye twitch. You're holding a purple can in one hand and a gold can in the other, desperately trying...