Dear Past Jess: The Brutal Truth About Raising A Baby Parrot
There's weird, lukewarm yellow formula cemented into my hair, the digital food thermometer is blinking an angry red 106 degrees at me, and I'm sitting on the cold linoleum of the laundry room floor at two in the morning desperately...
Surviving a Baby MRI: A London Dad's Letter to His Past Self
Dear Tom from six months ago, You're currently standing in the kitchen at 4:13 am, covered in what I desperately hope is just standard-issue reflux, staring at a crumpled NHS appointment letter. Baby M is asleep on your left shoulder,...
What the Patrick Mahomes Baby Taught Me About Surviving Three
Dear Jess from six months ago. You're currently sitting on the floor of our laundry room, crying over a mountain of unmatched tiny socks while your two toddlers use your Etsy shipping boxes as a literal wrestling ring in the...
My Papoose Baby Era: How I Survived The Clingy Newborn Phase
2:14 AM. A Tuesday in mid-November. I was standing in the middle of our tiny galley kitchen wearing a pair of maternity leggings that smelled vaguely of spit-up and stale coffee, desperately trying to wrap fifteen feet of gray stretchy...
Rihanna New Baby: What Having Three Under Four Actually Means
I was standing in line at the local H-E-B last week with a cart full of clearance diapers and a toddler actively licking the shopping cart handle, when the cashier decided to lean over and tell me I really needed...
The Brutal Truth About RSV Babies and Surviving Winter Coughs
My mother-in-law told me to rub warm mustard oil and garlic on my daughter's chest to pull the sickness out. The mom group on Facebook insisted I needed to slice a raw onion and leave it under her crib to...
Why outfitting a newborn baby boy feels like a hostage negotiation
It was day four. I was sleep-deprived to the point of mild hallucinations, standing over the changing pad in the dark. I unzipped his fleece sleeper, and a perfect arc of warm urine hit me directly in the collarbone. That...
What To Know Before Buying The Expensive Mori Baby Sleepwear
It was 3:14 AM on a Tuesday, and I had my phone flashlight clamped between my teeth like a miner digging for coal. My oldest son, Beau, was four weeks old and screaming with the kind of lung capacity that...
The Stork Baby Myth and the Brutal Reality of Postpartum
My mother-in-law walked into my Chicago apartment holding a massive stuffed white bird with a little cloth bundle in its beak. She placed it right next to the bassinet, beaming with that specific kind of grandmotherly pride. I just stared...