Magazine
The midnight triage of baby sleep and staying remotely sane
Listen. It was 3:14 AM on a Tuesday in February, and the wind was howling off Lake Michigan loudly enough to rattle the bedroom windows. I was standing in the dark, holding a screaming four-month-old at arm's length because a...
The 3AM Cot Politician: Surviving the Baby Sleep Regression Ages
It's 3:14 AM on a Tuesday. The rain is lashing against our bedroom window in that specifically spiteful London way, and I'm standing in the dark watching my daughter Alice perform a flawless impression of a miniature, furious politician. She...
The truth about baby Sinclair sleep advice and 90s dinosaurs
It's 3:14 AM on a Tuesday, and I've got cold, regurgitated milk drying on my left shoulder while attempting to type search queries into my phone with my nose. Florence is screaming because she's awake, and Matilda is screaming because...
Dear Past Me: Just Buy the Damn Baby Shusher and Go to Sleep
Dear Sarah from exactly six months ago, It's 2:14 AM in your sisterβs guest bedroom. You're wearing Dave's oversized Villanova hoodie that has a suspicious hardened crust on the left sleeve, and you're literally lightheaded from blowing air out of...
Why Getting A Baby Turtle Is Actually A Terrible Idea For Kids
My index finger is pressed against the remarkably smudged glass of a terrarium at a strip-mall pet store in Beaverton, desperately trying to explain the concept of a "shell" to an 11-month-old who's currently attempting to eat my shoelaces. It...
The Truth About Baby Shower Party Favors People Actually Want
I was standing by the industrial trash can at the local VFW hall last weekend, double-fisting a lukewarm sweet tea and a paper plate of dry sheet cake, watching my cousin's friends secretly dump their party gifts. They were doing...
Why Baby Shower Bingo Actually Saves the Entire Gift Opening Hour
"Don't do games, they're for basic bitches," my sister-in-law hissed at me across a lukewarm plate of mini quiches while balancing a mimosa on her hip. Then my mother leaned in, smelling heavily of Chanel No. 5 and unsolicited judgment,...
How I Survived the Chaos of Measuring Tiny Feet
I'm currently holding a tiny, pristine canvas high-top in one hand and my daughter Mayaβs fiercely clenched foot in the other. She is looking at me with the deep, pitying expression of someone watching a dog try to do long...
My Messy Guide to Surviving All Three Kinds of Baby Sharks
I'm standing in the downstairs bathroom at six in the morning, holding a plastic light-up dinosaur flashlight between my teeth, trying to pry my five-year-old's jaw open while he thrashes around like a feral raccoon trapped in a feed bin....