Why Footless Infant Rompers Saved My Sanity (And My Wood Floors)
It was 2:14 AM on a Tuesday, and I was staring at my oldest son, Carter, who was covered shoulder to knee in a blowout of biblical proportions. My husband was standing next to the changing table holding a single...
Why Authentic Baby Band Tees Are a Terrible Idea for Your Kid
I'm currently trying to peel a rigid, stark-black AC/DC onesie off a thrashing toddler in the disabled toilet of a Wetherspoons, and I can definitively confirm that novelty infant apparel is an elaborate trap. The garment in question was gifted...
The Truth About Babys Rompers (And Why Onesies Are A Trap)
I was standing in the blistering Target parking lot with my firstborn, trying to shove a pair of rigid denim baby jeans over a snapped bodysuit while he screamed loud enough to wake the entire state of Texas, when an...
The 3 AM Bébé en Ligne Shopping Panic & What You Actually Need
Jackson (my oldest, bless his heart, and the reason I found my first gray hair at twenty-six) was exactly six weeks old, screaming like a banshee, and wearing a fleece zip-up that felt like the inside of a baked potato....
Why Every Parent Needs a Boys Cardigan in the Diaper Bag Now
We were crammed into a plastic portable toilet at the Parker County Peach Festival when the great sweater incident of 2019 happened. My oldest son, who is the cautionary tale for pretty much all my parenting advice, was two years...
Why The Clinical Genius Of Japanese Baby Clothes Makes Sense
My mother-in-law told me to put three layers of fleece on the baby because his hands felt cold. My favorite attending doctor at the hospital said he was sweating through his onesie and to strip him down to a diaper....
The Great Infant Romper Lie And What Actually Keeps Babies Cool
I was standing in the emergency room triage bay during a brutal Chicago heatwave when I realized most parents have no idea how to dress a child. The smell of antiseptic was giving me a headache. A frantic mother carried...
Why I Stopped Buying Cheap Joke Shirts For My Kids
I was sweating through my own nursing tank, trying to wrestle my oldest son—who was basically built like a sack of bowling balls at four months old—into a stiff neon green shirt my brother-in-law bought him. It said "I Only...
Why I Traded Tiny Jeans for Bubble Rompers (And Never Looked Back)
I was sweating through my t-shirt in the Target parking lot, desperately trying to yank a pair of size 3-month rigid denim skinny jeans over my oldest daughter's delightfully chunky thighs while she screamed like a banshee. I'm just gonna...