Magazine

I was elbow-deep in a pile of spit-up-stained laundry when my sister-in-law Priya FaceTimed me in absolute tears, holding a yellow tape measure up to a massive, heavily carved wooden cradle her mother-in-law had just shipped all the way from...

Maya's mom arrived from Chicago at 7:14 PM, exactly twelve minutes after we finally managed to shut down the baby's waking cycle. She dropped her bags in the hallway and immediately handed me a velvet box that weighed absolutely nothing....

Dear Marcus of six months ago: Put the fork down. Back away from the pastry. I know exactly where you're right now. You're sitting at the kitchen island in the Portland rain, staring at a slice of aggressively colored purple,...

The greatest lie they peddle in those glossy parenting magazines—usually the ones featuring a serene mother in white linen looking lovingly at a perfectly clean infant—is that picking a name for your child is a beautiful, intuitive process. They suggest...

It was 9:47 PM on a Tuesday, roughly four months before our lives permanently imploded, when my wife—who was at that point roughly the size and shape of a medium family car—aggressively tapped her phone screen and demanded I calculate...

I was standing in my kitchen staring at my oldest—who's now five and a walking, talking cautionary tale about what happens when you give a toddler unchecked access to YouTube—when he was just a screaming newborn. My own mother was...