Dear Past Tom: What To Know Before You Walk Into A Bambi Baby Store
You're currently sitting in the driver's seat of the Ford Focus, sweating quite profoundly through your favorite grey jumper, staring through the glass front of the bambi baby store like it's an active crime scene you've been asked to clean...
Singing 'Be My Baby' Lyrics At 3AM Saved My Paternal Sanity
Itβs 3:14 AM on a damp Tuesday in Walthamstow, and my twin girls have decided to form a heavy metal screaming choir. Florence is handling the high-pitched falsetto, while Matilda is providing a guttural, terrifying bass that frankly shouldn't be...
A Late Night Deep Dive Into Pop Culture and Sensory Needs
Dear Marcus of exactly 182 days ago, It's currently 3:14 AM on a Tuesday. The nursery thermostat reads exactly 68.4 degrees, which Sarah insists is the best thermal environment, though the humidity has drifted to 48%, so who even knows...
The Messy Truth About That Cry Baby Doll You're Thinking of Buying
Dear Jess from six months ago. You're currently standing in the middle of Target, heavily pregnant with number three, staring at a wall of wide-eyed, plastic toys in fuzzy animal onesies while convincing yourself this is the magic bullet for...
Dear Jess: Surviving Colic and Why We Watch Cry-Baby 1990 Now
Dear Jess from six months ago. You're currently sitting on the cold linoleum of the laundry room floor at 3:14 AM. The dryer is tumbling a single wet towel just to generate enough white noise to drown out the ringing...
Why Searching For That Baby John Cartoon Sent Me Into A Panic
My mother-in-law swore by propping Leo up with an iPad the second he got fussy, my sister acted like letting a 3D animated pig sing a nursery rhyme would literally dissolve his frontal lobe, and my husband Dave just muttered...
Hosting a Baby in Bloom Baby Shower: A Dad's Survival Guide
You're currently bleeding on a Β£40 bunch of imported eucalyptus. I know this because I'm you, writing from exactly six months in the future, and I still have the tiny, irritating scar on my left index finger to prove it....
How to Take Decent Baby Pictures Without Losing Your Entire Mind
I was sweating through my favorite gray t-shirt, balancing on one foot on a dining room chair, making noises that sounded like a dying turkey. Below me, my oldest son, Hunter, was screaming bloody murder from inside a $60 woven...
Why my toddler's search for baby hotline lyrics gave me a heart attack
It's 6:13 AM on a Tuesday, and my left knee is submerged in what I can only hope is lukewarm porridge. Twin A, who I'm increasingly convinced is an agent of chaos sent to test my blood pressure, has somehow...