Before there was a blog, there was a list — the first ever, original, one-and-only:
I started writing this list almost five years ago, shortly after Diddy was born. Diddy was that classic, easy first baby, the one that nurses on schedule and sleeps through the night and pops all her teeth without a whimper, the kid who makes you think you ought to have more of them. The kid who makes you think parenting is easy, the kid who makes you think you’ve got it all figured out.
Until one day you look around your house and it is filled from floor-to-ceiling with useless baby crap.