Daniel sent us this one — and honestly, it's maybe the most relatable thing we've ever gotten. Ezra is ten months old now, he's a wiggle machine off the international baby wiggling scale, and Daniel and Hannah are in the thick of it. Small apartment, both working from home at least part-time, no family nearby to help. They've started a shared nanny a few days a week, which has given them the first real breather, but on days when it's just Daniel and Ezra — and especially when Hannah's out dealing with something like an eye infection — it's chaos. He's asking what they can do for the remaining months in their current rental to make daily life less insane, and what they should be looking for in the next place they rent so they're not just surviving but actually functioning. There's a lot to dig into here.
Before we get rolling — fun fact, today's script is being written by DeepSeek V four Pro. So if anything lands especially sharp, you know who to thank.
So where do we even start with this? Because I think Daniel's describing something that millions of parents know intimately but nobody really prepares you for — that gap between when a baby becomes mobile and when they're in full-time daycare. It's this limbo where you're trying to work, parent, and maintain some semblance of a home, all in a space that wasn't designed for any of it.
Ten months is a very specific developmental moment. By ten months, most babies are crawling fast, many are pulling to stand, some are starting to cruise along furniture. Their fine motor skills have exploded — they can pick up tiny objects you didn't even know were on the floor, they can open drawers you thought were secure. The curiosity-to-self-preservation ratio is wildly skewed toward curiosity.
Ezra apparently frustrates every attempt at creating a safe space by finding the gaps. That's not just an anecdote — that's developmentally exactly what you'd expect from a bright ten-month-old. Their entire job right now is to explore edges and boundaries. It's literally how they build spatial reasoning.
Right, and it's not malicious. The prefrontal cortex is barely online at this age. When a ten-month-old sees a gap, they don't think "that might be dangerous" — they think "what's through there?" So when Daniel says Ezra escapes through little gaps, that's not a failure of their baby-proofing. That's a baby doing exactly what a baby's brain is wired to do.
Let's talk about the current apartment first, because they've got months left there. What can they actually do right now that doesn't involve tearing walls down or losing a security deposit?
The research on this is pretty consistent. The number one piece of advice from pediatric safety experts for rental situations is what they call "zones within zones." You don't try to baby-proof the entire apartment — that's exhausting, expensive, and in a rental with non-ideal layouts, often impossible. Instead, you create one truly secure zone, and then you manage the rest of the space differently.
This is where I think a lot of parents go wrong. They spread their baby-proofing thin across the whole home, so nothing is really secure. You get outlet covers everywhere, corner guards on every table, but the baby can still access the kitchen garbage and the cleaning supplies under the sink.
The better approach is to designate one room — or even part of a room — as the absolute fortress. In a small Jerusalem apartment, that might be the living room with a high-quality play yard or configurable gates. Not those flimsy pressure-mounted things that a determined ten-month-old can push over. I'm talking about hardware-mounted gates, and yes, you can install them in rentals.
Daniel's in a rental. He's probably worried about holes in the walls.
There are now gate mounting systems specifically designed for rentals that use adhesive strips rated for something like a hundred fifty pounds of pressure. And even if you do need to put a couple of screw holes in the wall, patching drywall before you move out costs about five dollars in materials and twenty minutes on YouTube. The security deposit anxiety is often way out of proportion to the actual fix.
A tube of spackle and a small paint sample costs less than one dinner out, and it buys you months of sanity. The trade-off is completely worth it.
If the layout really won't accommodate gates — say you've got an open-plan space with weird angles — the other option is what's called a "yes space." This is a concept from RIE parenting. You essentially create a completely baby-proofed room where everything in it is safe for the baby to explore. No "no" items. The baby can crawl, pull up, mouth objects, and you don't have to hover.
Daniel mentioned he's constantly moving little tiny things out of Ezra's way. That's exhausting, and it's also a losing battle. A "yes space" eliminates that vigilance requirement. You can sit in there with your laptop, do some work, and not have to scan the floor every thirty seconds. You're not going to do deep work with a ten-month-old in the room — let's be realistic — but you can answer emails, do light tasks, be present and semi-productive while the baby explores safely.
What about the wiggling during diaper changes? Daniel made it sound like wrestling an octopus.
The diaper change wrestling match is one of those universal parenting experiences that nobody warns you about. By ten months, the novelty of lying still while someone wipes your bottom has thoroughly worn off.
There are a few evidence-based strategies here. One is the "standing diaper change" — once babies can pull to stand, many prefer to be changed standing up, holding onto a low table or a couch. It feels less vulnerable to them. You switch to pull-up style diapers, and it becomes a ten-second operation.
That's clever. Instead of forcing them into a position they hate, you work with their developmental drive to be upright.
The other strategy is what occupational therapists call "heavy work" before the change — something physically demanding right beforehand, like crawling through a tunnel or pushing a weighted basket. It provides proprioceptive input that can help regulate their sensory system enough to tolerate thirty seconds of lying down. And then there's the distraction technique — a special toy that only appears during diaper changes, something with lights or textures they don't get any other time. Rotate what's up there. If it's the same thing every time, it stops working after three days.
Now let's talk about the shared nanny arrangement, because Daniel mentioned it's given them the first glimmer of relief. I think there's something important here about the psychology of that transition.
The first time you're without your baby after ten months of constant togetherness — Daniel described it as weird, and that's exactly right. There's research on what happens to parents' stress physiology when they get their first regular childcare break. Cortisol levels drop measurably within the first week, but there's also an adjustment period where parents report feeling untethered or anxious. It's not just relief — it's a complex emotional response.
For parents who've been doing it entirely without family support, that feeling is probably amplified. Daniel and Hannah's parents both live abroad. They've had zero backup for ten months. That's not just hard — that's an endurance event. The shared nanny isn't a luxury; it's a basic survival mechanism.
The shared nanny model is an interesting middle ground. Cost-wise, you're looking at sixty to seventy percent of what a private nanny would cost, because you're splitting the rate with another family. The nanny gets a higher hourly rate than at a daycare center, so the quality of caregiver you can attract is often higher. And the baby gets social exposure without the full pathogen onslaught of a large daycare.
There's solid research showing that kids in small-group care settings, like a nanny share with two or three children, get sick less frequently than kids in large daycare centers, especially in the first year. The exposure is gentler. And for a family in a small apartment, having the care happen at the other family's home some days is huge. It means Daniel and Hannah get the apartment to themselves for actual focused work.
Let's pivot to the second part of Daniel's question — what should they look for in the next rental? Because they're moving this summer, and they want to get this right.
This is where I get genuinely excited, because there are specific architectural and layout features that make a massive difference with a mobile baby and toddler, and most people don't think about them when apartment hunting. They look at square footage and number of bedrooms and maybe natural light, but they miss the things that will determine whether their daily life is manageable or chaos.
Walk us through it. What's the checklist?
This is the single most underrated feature of a family-friendly apartment. You want to be able to see the main play area from the kitchen. You want to be able to see it from wherever you might set up a desk. Open-plan gets a bad rap in some circles, but for parents of young children, the ability to keep eyes on a mobile baby while cooking or working is worth its weight in gold.
That makes intuitive sense, but I'd never have thought to prioritize it. Most people look at a kitchen and think about counter space and appliances. They don't think "can I see the living room from here?
The second thing is what I'd call "containability." How many doorways or openings does the main living space have? An open-plan apartment with four access points to hallways, bedrooms, and the kitchen is much harder to gate off than one where the living area has two natural chokepoints. You're looking for a layout that can be segmented with one or two gates, not five. Fewer openings is actually better for this phase of life.
Third — and this is huge in Jerusalem specifically — floor-level changes. Steps between rooms, sunken living rooms, raised kitchen areas. These are nightmares with a crawling baby and a walking toddler. If you can find a rental that's all one level, take it.
I'd add balconies to that list. Jerusalem apartments often have mirpesets, and the railing spacing on older buildings can be wide enough for a small child to squeeze through. The safety standard in most countries is that railing gaps should be less than four inches — about ten centimeters. Older Jerusalem buildings often don't meet that. You can install temporary balcony netting, but it's a hassle. Better to find a place where it's not an issue.
What about flooring? Daniel mentioned Ezra is constantly on the move.
Hard floors are easier to clean — and with a baby starting solid foods, that matters — but they're harder on falls. At ten months, Ezra is pulling to stand and will start cruising soon. He's going to fall. If the apartment has tile or stone floors throughout, budget for foam play mats or a large area rug with a good pad underneath. Not a dealbreaker, but an extra cost and setup step.
A crawling, cruising, eventually walking baby makes noise on hard floors that transmits straight down to the neighbors below. In a rental, neighbor relations matter — especially in Jerusalem where buildings are tightly knit communities. If you're looking at a ground-floor unit, you eliminate the downstairs neighbor problem entirely. Ground-floor apartments sometimes get dismissed because of street noise or security concerns, but for the toddler years, not having anyone below you is a genuine quality-of-life upgrade.
Daniel also mentioned working from home. So the next rental needs to accommodate that. The ideal is a dedicated workspace with a door that closes. Even a small one — a large storage closet that fits a small desk can work. The point is acoustic separation. On days when the nanny is at the other family's home and Daniel or Hannah needs to work while the other watches Ezra, having a door you can close is the difference between taking a client call and not taking a client call.
In Jerusalem's rental market, finding a place with a spare room is not always realistic on a budget. So what's the fallback?
The fallback is what remote workers call "visual separation." A room where you can position a desk so that when you're on video calls, the background doesn't show the chaos. That might mean a bedroom large enough for a desk in the corner, or a living room with a nook. The other fallback is proximity to coworking spaces or cafes with reliable wifi. If the apartment just can't support two people working from home simultaneously, you need a Plan B within walking distance.
Let's talk about the psychology of this phase, because Daniel's question isn't just about practical stuff. There's an undercurrent of "how do we make this less crazy" that's about mental load, not just furniture arrangement.
The mental load of parenting a mobile infant in a small space while working is one of the most cognitively demanding things a human can do. You're context-switching constantly — work task, baby need, work task, hazard check, work task, diaper change — and each switch carries a cognitive cost. Research on task switching shows that even brief interruptions can double the error rate on complex tasks and significantly increase the time it takes to complete them. Add sleep deprivation and the emotional weight of feeling like you're doing both parenting and work badly, and it's a recipe for burnout.
One thing that helps, and this is well-supported in the productivity literature, is time blocking with clear boundaries. Even if the boundaries are artificial. You say "from nine to eleven, I am the parent on duty and I am not checking work email." Then from eleven to one, the other parent is on duty, or the nanny is there, and you are working. The key is that during work blocks, you treat parenting interruptions as genuine emergencies only — not "the baby is fussing slightly," but "the baby is bleeding.
That's hard to do emotionally. When you hear your baby fuss in the next room, every instinct says to go check. Even if you trust the other caregiver completely. That's where noise-canceling headphones become a legitimate productivity tool for parents. Not because you don't care, but because your brain needs the signal that "this is work time." The headphones are a ritual that helps with the context switch.
Daniel mentioned that Hannah sent in a prompt about this before, and that they talked about safe spaces. But he also said Ezra frustrates all their efforts to create safe spaces. I want to dig into that, because I think there's a mindset shift that helps here.
The mindset shift is from "containment" to "channeling." A baby like Ezra — smart, determined, high-energy — is not going to be contained. He's going to find the gaps, he's going to push the boundaries. That's not a failure of the safe space. That's a signal that the safe space isn't interesting enough. If the baby is constantly trying to escape the play area, it's not necessarily because he wants to be somewhere dangerous — it's because the play area is boring compared to the rest of the apartment, which is full of fascinating forbidden objects.
The solution isn't just better barriers. It's making the safe space more compelling than the rest of the apartment. Rotating toys, creating little challenges, having different textures and levels. At ten months, babies love things they can pull up on, things they can open and close, things that make satisfying noises. A cardboard box with some crinkly paper inside can occupy a ten-month-old for twenty minutes.
There's a concept in early childhood education called "loose parts play." Instead of fixed toys with one function, you provide open-ended materials — fabric scraps, wooden spoons, metal bowls, containers with lids. The baby invents their own play. It's more engaging because it's novel each time, and it's cheap because you're using household items. It works with the exploratory drive instead of against it. Ezra wants to open things? Give him things he's allowed to open. You're meeting the developmental need rather than just blocking it.
One practical tip for the remaining months: create a "busy board." Mount a piece of plywood to the wall — or even just lean it against the wall — with various household items attached. Latches, light switches, zippers, a small mirror, a doorstop that goes boing when you flick it. These things are endlessly fascinating to a ten-month-old, they develop fine motor skills, and they cost almost nothing. And you can take it with you when you move.
The other thing I'd suggest for the current apartment is what I'd call "strategic impoverishment" of the non-safe areas. If you can't gate off the kitchen, you make the kitchen as boring and inaccessible as possible. Cabinet locks on everything below counter height. Nothing interesting on low shelves. Garbage can in a cabinet or with a locking lid. The goal is that even if Ezra breaches the perimeter, there's nothing immediately dangerous or fascinating to get into. That buys you the thirty seconds you need to notice he's escaped and redirect him.
Let's circle back to something Daniel said about the future. He mentioned Ezra will go to full-time daycare at some not-too-distant point. That changes the calculus for the next rental, doesn't it?
It does, because you're not optimizing for the permanent setup. You're optimizing for a transitional phase that might last six months or a year. You need something that works well enough for this specific chapter. If the apartment is small but the layout is containable and there's a decent daycare within walking distance, that might be a better choice than a larger place that's harder to manage and further from childcare. Proximity to daycare is a huge quality-of-life factor. If daycare is a fifteen-minute walk versus a thirty-minute drive, that's an hour of your day back, every single day.
With a baby starting daycare, you want to think about illness logistics. In the first six to twelve months of group care, kids get sick a lot. Being close to the daycare means it's easier to go pick up a feverish child mid-day. Being far away means every illness becomes a major logistical disruption.
Daniel also asked specifically about making daily life less stressful and crazy. Beyond the physical setup, what are the routines and systems that actually help?
One thing that comes up consistently in the research on parental stress reduction is "environmental triage." You identify the three or four things that cause the most daily friction and you solve those aggressively, even if it means letting other things slide. For most parents of mobile infants, the top friction points are meal cleanup, laundry, and the constant picking-up of toys.
You optimize those ruthlessly and accept that other things will be suboptimal. For meals, that might mean using a splat mat under the high chair that you can just shake out, rather than scrubbing the floor three times a day. It might mean accepting that the baby will eat mostly finger foods, because self-feeding keeps them occupied and reduces the wrestling match. For laundry, it might mean having enough baby clothes that you only need to do laundry twice a week, not every day.
For the constant toy pickup, I've seen parents use what's essentially a "stuff basket." At the end of the day, everything goes into one large basket. You don't sort, you don't organize. It takes thirty seconds. The next morning, the baby dumps it out again. That's the cycle. Fighting it is pointless. The goal isn't a Pinterest-worthy playroom. The goal is a floor you can walk across without stepping on a wooden block at 2 a.
Let's talk about the emotional piece a bit more. Daniel mentioned it felt very weird to be without Ezra for the first time. That's worth sitting with.
It's a real thing. For ten months, your nervous system has been attuned to this other human's presence constantly. When that suddenly stops — even for a few hours — it's disorienting. Some parents describe it as feeling like they've forgotten something, like they've left the house without their phone. It's a kind of phantom limb sensation.
There's guilt mixed in. The feeling of "I should be enjoying the break, why do I feel anxious?" But the anxiety is completely normal. It doesn't mean the childcare decision is wrong. It means your attachment system is working exactly as it's supposed to. The research on attachment actually supports this. Secure attachment isn't about constant physical proximity — it's about the baby knowing that the caregiver will return. Brief, predictable separations with a trusted caregiver actually support the development of secure attachment.
Daniel and Hannah can reframe the weird feeling not as a warning sign, but as evidence that they've built a strong bond with Ezra, and now they're helping him build the next skill — trusting other safe adults. And for Daniel specifically, working from home while parenting creates this unique situation where you're physically present but not available. That's actually harder on some kids than a clean separation. If Ezra can see or hear Daniel but can't get to him, that can be more frustrating than if Daniel simply isn't there. For the next rental, the ideal setup might be a workspace that's truly separate — not just a corner of the living room where Ezra can see him typing away.
What about outdoor space? Daniel mentioned they went out for lunch in the market and had a nice few hours. Getting out of the apartment matters.
It's huge. A small apartment feels much smaller when you can't leave it. For the next rental, proximity to a park or a playground is worth prioritizing over things like updated appliances or nicer finishes. You can live with a dated kitchen if you've got a green space a three-minute walk away where Ezra can crawl in the grass and exhaust himself.
The market outing Daniel described — that's not just a nice lunch. That's sensory enrichment for Ezra. New sights, sounds, smells, faces. Babies at ten months are sponges for that kind of input. It tires them out in a good way, and it breaks up the monotony of the apartment for the parents.
There's a concept in urban planning called "the third place" — not home, not work, but a third space where you spend time. For parents of young children, the third place is often the park, the library, the community center. When you're apartment hunting with a baby, you're not just looking at the unit. You're looking at the neighborhood's third places. What's walkable? What's free? What's open when you need it?
Daniel mentioned they're in a busy area — the market outing suggests they're near Machane Yehuda or something similar. That's vibrant, but it can also be overstimulating. For the next place, they might want to think about the balance between vibrancy and calm. A quiet street that's a short walk from the action, rather than right in the middle of it.
With a baby who's going to become a toddler — and toddlers need to run — you want to look at the immediate surroundings of the building. Is there a courtyard? Is the street safe for a wobbly new walker? Are there a lot of stairs between the apartment entrance and the street? These things become daily friction points.
Stairs with a stroller. That's the kind of thing you don't think about until you're doing it three times a day. Ground floor or elevator building. That's the rule. Do not rent a walk-up if you have a baby and a stroller. Just don't.
Let's get specific about the remaining months in the current place. Daniel's trying to do organization while managing Ezra, and it's just super hard. What's realistic?
It's not realistic. Doing any kind of focused organizational task while solo-parenting a mobile ten-month-old is setting yourself up for frustration. The baby's nap schedule is the only window, and even that's unpredictable at this age — some ten-month-olds are dropping to one nap, some are still on two, and the transition period is chaos.
What's the advice? Just accept that organization isn't happening until the shared nanny days?
Pretty much, or lower the bar for what "organization" means. Instead of "I'm going to reorganize the closet," it's "I'm going to put five things in a donation box." Micro-tasks that can be completed in ninety seconds. The satisfaction of finishing something, even tiny, helps with the feeling of being overwhelmed.
There's also something to be said for "pre-exit optimization." They're moving in a few months. This is actually a great time to start decluttering, not despite the chaos, but because of it. Every thing you get rid of now is a thing you don't have to pack, move, and find a place for in the new apartment. And with a baby, the amount of stuff multiplies incredibly fast. By ten months, you've acquired the newborn stuff, the three-to-six-month stuff, the six-to-nine-month stuff, plus all the gifts and hand-me-downs. A lot of it is already outgrown. Daniel and Hannah could probably fill several boxes with things Ezra no longer uses, and that alone would make the current space feel more manageable.
One practical system for the chaos days — and this is something occupational therapists recommend — is the "five things" reset. At the end of the day, you do exactly five things. Put five toys in the basket. Throw away five pieces of trash. Put five dishes in the sink. It takes under two minutes, and it creates a small sense of order that makes the next morning feel less overwhelming. The key is that it's defined — five things, not "clean up." "Clean up" is infinite. Five things is finite and achievable. And you can do it with a baby on your hip if you need to.
Let's shift to something Daniel hinted at but didn't fully articulate. He said they haven't used a babysitter yet. Ten months with zero babysitter, plus both sets of parents abroad. That's an extraordinary run of no breaks.
It really is. Most parents, even those without family nearby, will have used a babysitter at least a few times by the ten-month mark. The fact that Daniel and Hannah have gone this long without one tells you something about how intense this period has been — and maybe about how hard it is to find and trust a sitter when you don't have a network. The shared nanny is the first step toward building that network. Once you have a trusted caregiver, that person might be available for occasional evening hours, or they might know someone they can recommend.
Building a childcare network from scratch in a city where you don't have family is hard. It takes time, trial and error, and a willingness to pay for date nights even when money is tight. But the alternative — going years without a single evening off together — is not sustainable for most relationships. What Daniel and Hannah have done for ten months is remarkable, but it's not a benchmark they need to maintain. Using the shared nanny for an occasional evening, or finding a separate sitter, is not a failure. It's a maintenance strategy for their marriage and their sanity.
We should talk about the transition to the new place itself. Moving with a baby who's around one year old — which is roughly where Ezra will be — is its own special challenge.
The ideal scenario, if it's financially feasible, is to have Ezra out of the apartment on moving day. With the shared nanny, or with a friend, or even with Hannah taking him somewhere while Daniel manages the movers. A moving day with a mobile one-year-old underfoot is dangerous — heavy furniture, open doors, strangers carrying boxes. It's not a place for a curious toddler.
The unpacking phase. The temptation is to try to get everything set up immediately, but with a baby, you need to prioritize. The baby's room or sleep space gets set up first, completely, before anything else. Because if Ezra's sleep is disrupted by the move — and it probably will be, at least for a few nights — having his familiar crib, his familiar sheets, his familiar sleep associations in place will help him regulate faster. Expect a regression and plan for it. That might mean taking shifts for night wakings, or being more flexible about routines for the first week. It will settle, but fighting it or being surprised by it makes it harder.
The other thing to prioritize in the unpacking is the safe space. Before you unpack the books or the kitchen gadgets, you set up the gates and the play area. Because on day two in the new place, Ezra is going to be exploring, and you want the boundaries to already be in place. It's much harder to establish a boundary than to maintain one. If Ezra gets to explore the whole apartment freely for the first three days and then you try to gate off the kitchen, he's going to protest. If the gates are there from the moment he arrives, it's just "this is how this space works.
For the new apartment, I want to add one more thing to the checklist: storage. Specifically, storage that a baby or toddler can't access. In the current place, Daniel's probably been doing the "put everything up high" strategy, which works but is exhausting. In the new place, look for built-in storage above the baby's reach, or a layout that allows for a tall shelving unit that can be secured to the wall. Having places to put things that aren't just "on top of the refrigerator" makes daily life feel less chaotic.
Securing furniture to the wall is another thing you can do in a rental with minimal damage. A couple of anchor straps into the wall, patch it when you leave. Furniture tip-overs are one of the leading causes of injury in children under five. A one-year-old who's pulling to stand will absolutely use a dresser or a bookshelf as a climbing aid. If that piece of furniture isn't anchored, it can come down.
Daniel, if you're taking notes, anchor your furniture. And check the railings on the balcony. And look for sightlines and containability and ground-floor or elevator access and proximity to a park and a daycare. It sounds like a lot, but these are all things you can assess in a fifteen-minute apartment viewing once you know what you're looking for. And none of them require a bigger budget. These are layout and location features, not luxury finishes.
I want to end on something that Daniel didn't explicitly ask but that I think is underneath the question. He said this has been an insanely grueling challenge. He's not exaggerating. Parenting an infant in a small space while working, with no family support, is objectively one of the hardest configurations of modern family life. And they're doing it. They've made it ten months. They've found a shared nanny. They're planning a move to improve their situation. That's not just survival — that's active problem-solving under extremely difficult conditions.
The research on parental resilience consistently finds that the parents who struggle the most aren't the ones with the hardest circumstances — they're the ones who think it shouldn't be this hard. Daniel and Hannah seem clear-eyed about the difficulty. They're not asking "why is this so hard?" They're asking "what can we do to make it less hard?" That's the mindset that gets you through. And there are concrete answers — the zones, the sightlines, the strategic impoverishment, the five-things reset, the babysitter network, the anchored furniture. None of it is magic, but together it shifts the daily experience from chaos to manageable.
One last thought on the wiggling. The international baby wiggling scale — Daniel's joke, but it points to something real. Some babies are just more motor-driven than others. Ezra sounds like he's on the high end of that spectrum. That's not a problem to solve. That's a temperament to work with. High motor drive babies often become kids who love sports, climbing, building things. The same intensity that makes diaper changes impossible now will be an asset later. Right now, the job is to channel it safely, not to suppress it.
Standing diaper changes, busy boards, loose parts play, and a really good pair of noise-canceling headphones.
That's the survival kit.
Now: Hilbert's daily fun fact.
Hilbert: The national animal of Scotland is the unicorn. It has been since the twelfth century, when it first appeared on the Scottish royal coat of arms.
...right.
That's completely unrelated to anything we just discussed, and I respect that.
Here's the forward-looking thought. Daniel and Hannah are in what might be the hardest chapter of early parenthood — the window between mobility and full-time childcare, in a space that doesn't fit their needs, without family nearby. But that window closes. Ezra will start daycare. They'll move to a place that works better. The systems they're building now — the nanny share, the routines, the knowledge of what to look for in a home — those compound. The second year is different from the first. It's still hard, but it's a different kind of hard, one where you get more sleep and more moments of your own life back.
If there's one thing to take away from all of this, it's that optimizing for this exact chapter — not the dream home, not the forever setup, but the next six to twelve months with a mobile infant — is the smartest thing they can do. The rest can wait.
This has been My Weird Prompts. Thanks to Hilbert Flumingtop for producing, and thanks to Daniel for the prompt — hang in there, and tell Hannah we hope her eye is better.
If you want more episodes, we're at myweirdprompts dot com, and on Spotify. We'll be back soon.
