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It was three in the morning, mid-January in Chicago, and the wind was howling off Lake Michigan. My toddler was thrashing in her crib like she was possessed, her sleep sack completely saturated with drool. I stood there running through...

My thumbs were hovering over the search bar at 3:14 AM, the harsh glare of my smartphone illuminating the spit-up stain on my shoulder. I was just trying to buy clothes. Specifically, I wanted our 11-month-old son to look less...

Dear Jess from six months ago, who's currently sitting on the living room rug, staring blankly at a mountain of tiny socks while watching your youngest child gnaw aggressively on the wooden leg of the coffee table like a feral...