Finding the right Rassel für Babys without losing your mind
When Maya was about twelve weeks old, my mother-in-law marched into my kitchen and handed me a literal sterling silver rattle that weighed as much as a kettlebell. "It's an heirloom," she whispered reverently, tracing the engraved initials of some...
Wie groß sollte eine Babydecke sein? A dad's troubleshooting guide
The left rear wheel of the stroller locked up with a brutal clicking noise right in the middle of a crosswalk in Portland’s Pearl District. It was raining, obviously, because we live in Oregon and taking an 11-month-old outside requires...
How Many Bibs Do I Need For A Newborn? The Spitty Truth
It was Thanksgiving 2017, and Maya was exactly six weeks old. We were at my mother-in-law’s house, which is basically a museum of white linen and breakable objects, and I was wearing a rust-colored silk blouse because I was, like,...
The Great Wool Disaster: Surviving a Ridiculous Baby Knit Set
The clock on the microwave said 3:14 AM, and the smell hit me before I even reached the landing. It was that distinct, metallic, sweet-yet-horrific scent of a total nappy failure. In the cot, Matilda was standing up, gripping the...
Dear Past Me: Surviving the Great Cozy Legging Winter Crisis
Dear Tom of six months ago, You're currently standing in the hallway holding a miniature pair of stiff, dark-wash denim jeans. You have a lukewarm coffee balancing precariously on the radiator, and you're sweating profusely as Maya and Isla do...
The Ridiculous Truth About Organic Cotton Socks for Tiny Feet
My left arm is currently wedged shoulder-deep inside the rubber gasket of our Bosch washing machine, fishing for a piece of fabric the size of a tea bag. Maya is howling from the nursery because her left foot is cold,...
Surviving The 3 AM Meltdown Over A Missing Blanket With Foxes
I'm currently on all fours under the sofa, using my phone's torch to illuminate a terrifying graveyard of crushed Wotsits, a rogue piece of Lego, and a dummy that has been missing since last Tuesday. It's 3:14 in the morning....
The Puffy Coat Meltdown and the Magic of Toddler Boys Sweaters
It was 7:14 AM on a Tuesday, heavily sleeting, and I was standing in our driveway wearing one of my husband’s old flannel shirts that smelled faintly of stale coffee and desperation. Leo, who was three at the time, was...
Debugging the architectural nightmare of a newborn sweater set
I’m currently staring at a tiny, cream-colored cable-knit tube of fabric. My wife Sarah is in the other room, and my son is lying on the changing table, doing that terrifying infant stiff-board maneuver where every muscle in his three-week-old...