Taking care of an infant is incredibly boring. The feed-diaper-rock-sleep routine is tedious and unrewarding, at least until you get those first gummy smiles at around four weeks. But nobody ever talks about that. I remember sitting there in dank London in February, my scrawny firstborn permanently attached to my breast, thinking, “This is it?” She was the calmest, most delightful creature on the planet, and yet each day stretched before me like a vast, featureless landscape, my husband’s arrival home from work the only bright spot. If someone had just warned me that I would be bored as well as enamored, at least I could have been prepared. Surely I wasn’t the first woman in history to experience new motherhood as monotony, but it felt that way. That’s why I’m starting this blog. My firstborn is now 16, and with each new phase I’ve noticed there are a lot of things about parenting that people won’t discuss. I will.