What Being a Baby Mama Actually Means Off the Internet
I was sitting on the floor of my guest bedroom—which I generously call my "Etsy shipping headquarters"—with packing tape stuck to my thigh, listening to a 90s hip-hop playlist, when a song came on loudly dropping the phrase "baby mama."...
The 2 AM Google Panic: What a "Baby Drill" Actually Means Today
It was exactly 2:14 AM when the daycare app pushed a notification to my phone. I was already awake because D (that's how my son is logged in my sleep-tracker spreadsheet, just "Baby D" to save keystrokes at three in...
How to Take Good Newborn Photos Without Losing Your Damn Mind
I was sweating through my third nursing tank of the day, teetering on a dining room chair with my iPhone hovering over my oldest son, Leo, who was currently screaming his head off in a hand-knitted Yoda costume my mom...
Why I Finally Stopped Fighting the Whole Pastel Baby Pink Phase
It was late October 2017, and I was standing in the middle of Target wearing a heather-gray maternity sweater that smelled faintly of the iced Americano I had spilled down my front three hours earlier. I was thirty-eight weeks pregnant...
The Truth About Those Perfect Baby Playing Quotes I Used To Hate
It was exactly 3:14 AM. I know this because the glowing green numbers on our cheap digital alarm clock were basically burning holes into my sleep-deprived retinas. I was sitting in the grey nursing glider we bought off Craigslist—the one...
The "asa baby monster" Google Trap: A Guide to Actual Toddler Chaos
There I was, at 3:14 am on a Tuesday, blinking at my glowing phone screen while Twin A rhythmically headbutted my collarbone. I had simply wanted to buy a cute, slightly terrifying novelty onesie for Halloween. I typed what I...
The weird, messy truth about baby mineral oil: A letter to past me
Dear Sarah from last November, You're sitting on the beige bathroom rug at 2 AM. You're wearing those faded black leggings that have a hole near the left knee, you're freezing, and you're drinking your third cup of lukewarm coffee...
I Want You To Be Mine Again Baby: Fetty Wap & Postpartum Love
Before the twins were born, I made the fatal error of asking people for advice on what to play for them audibly. My mum, firmly rooted in the pseudo-science of the late nineties, insisted that playing classical symphonies would instantly...