A Letter to Myself on Debugging a Baby Boy's Winter Wardrobe
You're currently standing in the nursery at 2:14 AM, holding a laser thermometer and pointing it at the baseboards because the room is reading 69.8 degrees instead of your meticulously programmed 71.2 degrees. Your five-month-old son is asleep, but you're...
The Honest Truth About Switching to Neutral Baby Clothing Basics
I'm standing in my laundry room right now, staring at a hot pink, tulle-skirted monstrosity that says "Daddy's Little Princess" in scratchy sequins. My oldest daughter wore it exactly once. She screamed for forty-five minutes straight until her face was...
Decoding The Postpartum Truth In Go Baby Justin Bieber Lyrics
It's 3:17 AM in Chicago. The radiator in my pre-war apartment is hissing, and I'm swaying in the dark with a reflux-prone fourteen-month-old draped over my shoulder. I'm trying to keep my sanity intact. In my right earbud, I'm listening...
Surviving the polyester nightmare of baby halloween costumes
It was 5:42 PM on a Tuesday in late October, and I was standing in the drizzling rain behind a Vauxhall Astra, trying to forcefully snap the gusset of a synthetic velvet pumpkin over my screaming two-year-oldβs nappy. Her twin...
Surviving the Laundry: A Real Guide to Newborn Baby Clothes
I'm currently staring at a laundry basket overflowing with tiny, mustard-yellow stained garments, drinking a cup of coffee that went cold somewhere around eight this morning. Between packing up orders for my Etsy shop and keeping my toddler from feeding...
Why I Threw Out My First Babyβs Clothes for Organic Cotton
I was sitting on the floor of my Texas laundry room last Tuesday, elbow-deep in a plastic storage bin labeled "0-6 Months," when I pulled out a stiff, neon-orange "Daddy's Little Monster" onesie I bought for my oldest kid five...
The Tiffany Trump Baby Reality Check: Postpartum Is Just Messy
I was elbow-deep in a diaper blowout at three in the morning when I first saw the announcement. I was wiping zinc oxide off my elbow, trying not to wake my husband, just blindly scrolling my feed. That was when...
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...
Dear Past Me: The Real Truth About That Local Baby Boutique
Dear Sarah from exactly six months ago. I'm writing this to you because I know exactly where you're standing right now. You're in the middle of the fluorescent-lit hellscape of a massive big-box store's baby section, and you're sweating profusely...