Magazine

I was exactly four days postpartum with my oldest, wedged awkwardly between the toilet and the bathtub in my rural Texas house, trying to angle my phone so the giant hospital-grade pad wouldn't show in the mirror. I had seen...

We're twenty-two minutes into the great Tupperware standoff of a rainy Tuesday morning. Maya is sitting on the rug, red-faced, grunting, and aggressively trying to pry the blue plastic lid off her container of blueberries. It's taking her forever, and...

It's 3:14 AM and I'm currently trapped under twenty-two pounds of snoring infant who requires exactly 68.5 degrees ambient temperature to maintain his delicate sleep mode. I'm pinned to the nursing chair, my left arm has gone completely numb, and...