Why I Swapped Helicopter Parenting for the Achtung Baby Method
It was a Tuesday morning, maybe 10 AM, and I was wearing a pair of black yoga pants that definitely had spit-up crusted on the left thigh from three days prior. I was physically army-crawling through one of those enclosed...
Run Baby Run: The Messy Reality of Jogging With Your Kid
I'm wrestling a standard, rigid four-wheeled city stroller over a massive, gnarly tree root on a Tuesday morning at 7 AM. I'm wearing my black Lululemon leggingsβthe ones with the weird yogurt stain on the left thigh that I haven't...
"A Dingo Ate My Baby": How A 90s Joke Became My Parenting Nightmare
The digital clock on the nursery wall reads 2:14 AM. The temperature monitor is holding steady at exactly 68.4 degrees. My 11-month-old son is currently using my left collarbone as a mattress, drooling a small puddle of milk onto my...
Dear Past Me: Do Not Let Your Kid Touch That Tiny Wild Reptile
Dear Sarah of last May. You're currently standing on the muddy shoulder of the Wissahickon creek trail, balancing a tepid Yeti mug of dark roast on your yoga pants-clad knee, utterly paralyzed. Leo is pointing a grubby four-year-old finger at...
My Toddler Found a Baby Snake: The Ultimate Backyard Meltdown
Tuesday morning, 8:14 AM. I was wearing Daveβs gross gray sweatpantsβthe ones with the mystery bleach stain near the left knee that he absolutely refuses to throw awayβand balancing my third, heavily microwaved mug of coffee on my hip. Leo,...
When Internet Video Game Bugs Cause Panic and Real Wasps Attack
I was standing in the middle of the hallway yesterday, hip-deep in a laundry basket full of unmatched tiny socks, staring down at my four-year-oldβs sticky, peanut-butter-smudged iPad screen. He had left his browser open, and the search history said...
The Pastoral Fantasy Delusion: Surviving Baby Goats
It was 2:14 AM on a Tuesday, I was covered in a thin but distinct layer of regurgitated infant milk, and I was knee-deep in a Rightmove spiral looking at semi-derelict farmhouses in Somerset. The twins had been tag-teaming a...
Smoked Baby Back Ribs: Safely Feeding Your Messy Little Ones
My neighbor Jim handed my nine-month-old a giant, sticky rib bone last summer at a Fourth of July block party. "Look at him!" Jim yelled over the sound of a lawnmower, completely ignoring the sheer, unadulterated panic on my face....
Raising Baby Chickens: A Reality Check Letter To My Past Self
There's a cardboard box vibrating in the passenger seat of my minivan, and it smells faintly of wood shavings and poor life choices. Itβs early March, raining sideways here in rural Texas, and I'm staring at the steering wheel while...