A few weeks ago, Kendrick e-introduced me to a friend of a friend from business school who had created a startup service geared at new moms, just because he thought I’d think it was interesting. The friend-of-a-friend, Nisreen, and I started chatting via email, and then got lunch when she came to the Bay Area, and when she showed me what she'd been working on I knew I'd want to share it with you guys - and now I finally can, because Bundle Club launches today (big congrats!).

What Bundle Club Is: A membership service for new mothers that helps them get the products that they need for their child when they need them.

How Bundle Club Works: Each month, members pay $25 to receive a carefully curated box of items specifically tailored to their child's developmental stage. It's the same business model as StitchFix (which I've never used personally, but have heard a lot about from friends): you have a few days to look at the products in the box, and then you send back what you don't want and only pay for what you keep, with the monthly membership fee being applied to the purchase (so if, for example,  you purchase $100 worth of items, you only end up paying $75).

The First Rule Of New Mom-Visiting: Bring Pizza

This weekend, we're planning on visiting a couple of friends who live in San Francisco to meet their new baby, and it got me thinking about how different "visiting" is when a very newly hatched person is in residence. Visiting with a second baby is a whole different story, because second-time parents are much less panicky about whether the baby's head will stay on its body when they pick it up and are likely to be really, really excited when someone offers to hold their child for so a second so they can do something other than holding their child, but visiting with a first-timer?

It's tricky. Because there is a LOT of emotion and a LOT of exhaustion going on, and different people deal with emotion and exhaustion in very different ways, so it can be hard to know what, exactly, you're walking into when you go visit a new mom. She may want a break from staring at the baby, or she may really want you to leave as quickly as possible so she can get back to doing what she wants to do (staring at the baby). She may want to show off her newborn, but she may not be in the mood to get partially naked in front of a crowd and not have any idea how that breastfeeding cover works yet. She may be straightforward with you about all this...or she may just act really, really weird.

I'm aware that this photo doesn't look like much.

But you see that little square of paper up there?

That is GOLD.

3AM, semi-coherent and slightly puffy, but what can you do?

So the other morning I had to do something called a Satellite Media Tour, or "SMT." And in order to do this without police intervention, I had to wander around my neighborhood knocking on my neighbors' doors and explaining to them that if they woke up and looked over at my house sometime around 2 o'clock in the morning the first thought that would come to mind would be that a massive home invasion was in process and that they should call the cops immediately...but that that would not, in fact, be the case.

In other words: don't freak out; it's all good. The truck stocked with creepy surveillance equipment parked outside my home and cotillion of random men streaming in and out are totally A-OK.

Cool hat, yo.

This is me in September of the year I headed to ninth grade, in my de rigeur pleated jeans and Swatch watch. (And is that a pink scrunchie on my wrist? I do believe it is.) The above shot is a pretty good encapsulation of what I wore to every single first day of school for the entirety of my life (minus the hat, which I think I was wearing because it was 1994): some variation on the white shirt/blue jeans combo, because for whatever reason that pairing has always made me feel like I look like myself. And when you’re all jittery about the prospect of meeting new people and walking new hallways and learning new things, it can help to feel comfortable in your own skin (or in your own clothing, as it were).

Which brings me to this: after many years of barely even noticing when September rolled around, I have returned to the Back To School era of my life. I had a back-to-school parent conference the other day, because our son started preschool last week (well, it’s technically the same place he went to camp all summer, but apparently the curriculum changes once fall starts so it’s a whole new thing. A parent-teacher conference-requiring thing.) Do you know how extremely ancient and responsible going to parent-teacher conferences makes me feel? Very.