Magazine

A messy stack of washed white newborn onesies on a nursery changing table.

The 3 AM Blowout That Made Me Respect the Newborn White Onesie

It was 3:14 AM. November. I know this because my phone flashlight was blinding me and the digital clock on the microwave was blinking in the background while I stood in the kitchen wearing a fleece Target robe from like,...

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A tired dad holding two babies in organic cotton onesies

The Brutal, Messy Truth About Surviving Baby Onesies

It was 3:14 AM on a Tuesday, roughly six weeks into the twin experiment, and I was holding a small, violently crying creature at arm's length. The issue wasn't the crying (I'd grown accustomed to the acoustic assault), but rather...

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Priya holding a stiff plastic baby onesie while looking highly skeptical at the camera

Why My Toxic Relationship With Funny Baby Onesies Finally Ended

Kamini auntie handed me a gift bag that smelled vaguely of mothballs and aggressively cheap vinyl. We were at my baby shower, sitting in a circle of fifty women drinking chai, and I was performing the delicate art of opening...

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