By the Hours: A Day in the Life.

One of my favorite glossies (I can’t remember — is it Harper’s Bazaar?  Elle?) runs a series where they interview celebrities in the fashion world and have them share their daily regimens by the hour, i.e., “6:30 a.m. — Rise for the day with a sun salutation, do an hour of mindful yoga, eat 1 almond and a shot of wheatgrass, put on my Dries Van Noten jeans, etc”).  I love this series because it offers such an uniquely intimate glimpse into the day-to-day of VCPs (very chic people), though Lord knows how curated and filtered they are.  (Do they have “their people” vet their answers?)  At any rate, one of you lovely Magpies (thank you, Bunny) very generously asked for a “day in the life” post, and I am greedily and self-indulgently taking the opportunity to live out my fantasy of being interviewed along the lines of one of those VCPs in the glossies.  I’ll strive for honesty.

7 A.M.  Hear minimagpie squawking and babbling to herself over the baby monitor (we have — and love — the Infant Optix DXR-8); she’s up for the day.  Work up the energy to swing my legs out of bed (I was awake feeding her just 2.5 hours prior) and dash into the bathroom to put in my contacts and splash water on my face before one of my absolute favorite parts of the day: seeing minimagpie’s sweet face turn towards me as I enter her bedroom and break into an enormous smile.  “Good morning, sweet girl!”

7:15 A.M.  Feed minimagpie in our bed while checking emails, reading news headlines to Mr. Magpie, and browsing Instagram.  Mr. Magpie goes up to check on his urban farm on our roof and descends with the daily crop: today, an eggplant, six green beans, and his first tomato of the season.  The same routine every day: marveling over the yield of his green thumb and strategizing about how and when to use the vegetables in our meals over the coming few days.  Also, narrating everything to minimagpie:  “This is an eggplant!”  “It’s purple!”

7:45 A.M.   My least favorite part of the day: “getting ready.”  Why oh why does it take so damn long?  It’s an intricate dance, a whirlwind of movement, for about 20 minutes straight: Mr. Magpie takes Tilden downstairs to let her out and feed her, then jets back upstairs to shower and dress himself.  I put mini in the bassinet in our room while I throw on some clothes (today, an Ulla Johnson tunic), tinted moisturizer, a swipe of undereye concealer (I’M OBSESSED WITH THIS STUFF), and a bit of blush (I’ve worn Bobbi Brown’s Hot Pink shade for years), then take her to her nursery to change her and dress her (today, into this Rikshaw Design dress), then stow her in her crib to go back to my room to make the bed and start a load of laundry.  It usually takes me two trips downstairs: one to bring down my water glass, beloved Kindle, baby monitor, phone, and tea mug (I drink tea before bed every night) and another to bring mini downstairs.  [Reading this, I realize I should maybe consolidate this trip by throwing these items in a tote?]  Mr. Magpie has in the meantime returned downstairs to make our daily pour-over coffee (he always adds some frothed soy milk to mine using this) and absorb his daily Reddit fix, which he will then proceed to tell me about for the remainder of the day.  I make my final trip downstairs with mini, slather sunscreen on her, and place her in her “rocket ship” while I drag her stroller down the front stairs of our home and leash Tilly and transfer our coffee into to-go cups (we love these) and maybe eat a bite or two of banana before —

8 A.M.  We get out the door for our daily walk.  We have been in a routine of walking nearly 3 miles as a little pod.  We talk about our businesses, about the news, about our evening plans, about what I read last night while up feeding minimagpie, about Landon’s Reddit discoveries, and–always, always–what we’ll eat for the day, interspersed with disciplining Tilly (she goes nuts over squirrels) and narrating our walk to minimagpie: “That’s a firetruck!” “Oops, big bump!” “What do you see?”  Towards the end of this walk, minimagpie drifts off to sleep.

9 A.M.  Get home, turn on the news, finish banana, and prepare a bowl of oatmeal.  Read minimagpie the first of a thousand books for the day — right now, it’s Bottoms Up! (she loves this funny lift-the-flap book) and Nancy Knows, which I’ve raved about previously.  Place her on activity mat for tummy time while cleaning the kitchen/reorganizing my belongings from the whirlwind of this morning, changing laundry, washing bottles from last night, emptying dishwasher, debating with Mr. Magpie what we should eat for lunch.  (Conversations about meals punctuate our day.)

9:45 A.M.  Feed minimagpie while answering emails and calling my mom on the phone to discuss the fascinating (har har) things that have happened since our call last night.  Much to Mr. Magpie’s surprise, we always find things to discuss.

10 A.M.  Today’s a nanny day, so I pass mini off to her after Tilden goes through her routine freak-out at seeing her come to the door before running upstairs to freshen up, swapping out my sandals for a pair of Chanel captoes similar to these, grumbling at my hair before semi-styling it and spraying with this hair spray, swiping on some Nars Roman Holiday lipstick, and transferring work essentials into my diaper bag while eliminating baby gear.

10:20 A.M.  Rush out the door with Mr. Magpie to get to a 10:30 A.M. meeting which we’ve selfishly but conveniently scheduled just up the street from us at Buzz Coffee Shop.  Strategize en route.

11:45 A.M. Debrief from meeting on drive home.  Finally come to consensus on lunch — Kasia’s Polish Deli for some tomato and shells soup.

11:55 A.M.  Sit down to my planner to look over my to-dos for the day, always a disjointed blend of tasks for our technology business, blog, and personal affairs.  Knock out some of the low-hanging-fruit: send email follow-ups, pay credit card bill, confirm cleaners’ for tomorrow, confirm refund of stupid Jet.com order on my credit card, QA the latest work from our engineer, review analytics for our businesses.  Intersperse with half-formed commentary to Mr. Magpie.

12:30 P.M.  Scarf down lunch Mr. Magpie generously walked to pick up alongside a coconut La Croix.  Wonder whether I should be drinking actual water instead of La Croix.  Discipline Tilly for barking like a madwoman when our nanny returns from the park with minimagpie in tow.  Change Tilly’s water.

1 P.M.  Feed minimagpie while reading on my Kindle.  Notice dust bunny under chair opposite my nursing nook.  The cleaning crew is coming tomorrow, but I know it will kill me if I don’t swiffer later today.  (I’m sure everyone and their Mom owns a Swiffer, but if you don’t — it’s amazing.)  Add to my mental to-dos.

1:20 P.M.  Return to to-dos.  The next few hours are essentially a blur of the same thing — work on various tasks, strategize with Mr. Magpie, feed minimagpie.

3 P.M.  Nanny leaves while minimagpie is still napping, and my attentiveness to my tasks is reduced by about 20% as I flit between checking on the monitor and my computer screen.   Have been very anxious lately about minimagpie sleeping in her swaddle — she’s become houdini-like, and I worry she’ll cover her face with her swaddle if I’m not tuned in.  Make mental note to transfer her to her new sleepsack.  Mentally scold myself for not going on a run while the nanny was here and write in big letters: GO FOR RUN in my planner for the next day our nanny will be here.  Drink second La Croix of the day.

3:20 P.M.  Minimagpie wakes and I must mentally come to the terms with the fact that limited work will get done for the next four hours.  “It’s OK.  Turn off work brain.  It’s time to focus on mini,” I tell myself as I ascend the stairs.  I change mini’s diaper and bring her downstairs to feed her while reading on my Kindle.

3:30 P.M.  Mr. Magpie takes a work call upstairs.  Tilly gets into a barking match when our gentle and kind mailman comes and rings the doorbell.  I am half-naked feeding mini, so I hide in the kitchen while absolute chaos ensues.  I finally let Tilly outside to reduce the noise for Mr. Magpie’s call.  Tilly starts digging a hole in backyard.  I let her back in.  Tilly wipes her dirty paws on my dress.  I make a mental note to throw this dress in the dry cleaning bin.  Make another mental note to research a new dry cleaner’s — mine is way, way, way too expensive. It cost me $20 to dry clean a $50 dress there earlier this week!  But I digress. Turn on oven to roast a sweet potato for minimagpie’s latest food encounter.

3:45 P.M.  Read minimagpie books and sing her “The Itsy Bitsy Spider,” complete with hand movements, which she LOVES.  She always winces just before I’m about to say: “Down came the rain” since she knows the hand motion that accompanies it.  Make a mental note to tell Mr. Magpie how smart our daughter is.  Place sweet potato in oven.

4:15 P.M.  Transfer minimagpie to activity mat.  Help her roll onto her tummy.  Swiffer the floor while Tilly goes berserk.  She hates anything with a handle — a rake, a broom, a shovel.

4:25 P.M. Run upstairs after Mr. Magpie descends to change out of soiled clothing (thanks, Tilly), and put on a white eyelet shirtdress.  Why I choose white when I know I’ll be feeding a baby and disciplining a dirty puppy, I do not know.  Get momentarily sidetracked by organizing pile of clothes on floor of closet and remembering to bring wipes and diapers downstairs.

4:35 P.M.  Thanks to our Hue lightbulbs, our lights automatically turn on in our breakfast nook, reminding me we’re through the bulk of the day and that happy hour is just around the corner.  Remove sweet potato from oven to cool.  Sit down on mat next to minimagpie to chat with her while she plays.

4:45 P.M.  Minimagpie starts to tire of mat.  Transfer her to her rocket ship with a teether.  Grab her booster seat, wipeable bib, and spoon (amazing amazing product) and seat her in it while I mash her sweet potato into a pulp.  Mr. Magpie and I marvel over her as she tries the sweet potato.  She does not like it.

5:00 P.M.  Realize minimagpie is sleepy — she’s rubbing her eyes and fussing.  Take her upstairs, place her in sleepsack, and rock her to sleep.  Despite my daily pledges to put her down “drowsy but awake,” I’ve not yet turned the corner.

5:15 P.M.  “Happy hour?” I offer as I descend the stairs and flip on the baby monitor.  Mr. Magpie smiles and waves the beer he’s just cracked open.  Pour half glass of rose and Virginia peanuts into a bowl and light our Tocca candle.

5:17 P.M.  “Where did today go?” I ask Mr. Magpie.  I glance at to do list to see if I can accomplish anything else in the next 20 minutes.  Respond to emails and work on a blogpost.

5:41 P.M.  Minimagpie wakes.  Ascend stairs to retrieve her and change her diaper.

5:45 P.M.  Feed minimagpie while reading Kindle and occasionally chatting with Mr. Magpie, who has started cooking tonight’s dinner — pasta alla norma from his new favorite pasta cookbook — and is watching the Nats game, muted, on TV, while we listen to the Robin Thicke station over our Sonos sound system.

6:05 P.M.  Pour second half of glass of wine.  I usually make one glass of wine last an hour or two by pouring it in increments, as I’m cautious about drinking while breast-feeding.  Read minimagpie another book.  Stand minimagpie on the counter to narrate what Mr. Magpie is doing in the kitchen.  Place her on mat for a little tummy time.

6:30 P.M.  Take minimagpie upstairs for bath (P.S. all my favorite baby bath gear) and change her into jammies (tonight, these frog-print ones — technically for boys, but who cares?  I have begun to think about investing in more gender-neutral jammies wherever possible in case we have a second baby and he is a boy).

6:50 P.M.  Descend stairs, place minimagpie in rocketship while I work on blogpost and finish glass of wine.

7:15 P.M.  Sit down to eat dinner.

7:30 P.M.  Take minimagpie upstairs for bedtime routine: turn on night light (I love hers) and Sleep Sheep; hand her a lovie (a friend of mine gave her these, which are genius, because you can always throw one in the wash while two others are clean, keep one in your baby bag, etc); read her Goodnight, Moon; place her in sleepsack while saying her prayers and intentions; turn out light; rock her to sleep.

8 P.M.  Descend stairs, turn on monitor, and debate whether to put Tilly in her crate for the night.  (An aside, in case you were wondering: Tilly is a willful little pup who rarely sleeps unless we place her in her crate.  She sort of needs to be “put down for naps” like our daughter.)  Tilly seems pretty mellow, so we keep her out and descend to our basement to watch an episode of “Friends from College.”  We pause show four times in eight minutes in order to fetch a new beer for Mr. Magpie, discuss Scaramucci’s ousting from the White House (random), comment on the show, and serve ourselves dessert (tonight, two different flavors of Haagen Dazs ice cream: tangerine shortbread and sweet cream coffee caramel) and my nightly cup of peppermint tea.

8:49 P.M.  “I can’t keep my eyes open,” I murmur to Mr. Magpie.

9:01 P.M.  Take out contacts, brush teeth, and use Arcona pads to remove makeup before slathering on Korres’ Sleeping Facial cream on my face, Elizabeth Arden 8 Hour Cream on my lips, and Tata Harper Redefining Body Balm on my feet.  I use that Tata magic all over my body after a shower, but on my feet nearly every night — it really extends a pedicure and helps with the dryness of sandal-wearing season.

9:10 P.M.  Mr. Magpie lets Tilly out one final time, checks front and back door to ensure they’re locked, and we both peer into the nursery to swoon over mini.  He descends to watch some baseball in the kitchen.

9:15 P.M.  I put on an episode of Real Housewives, play Mr. Magpie and my mother in Words with Friends (I also play my mom), and then drift off to sleep.

10:15 P.M.  Mumble things to Mr. Magpie that I no longer remember as he climbs into bed.

12:45 A.M. Minimagpie’s first nighttime feeding.  I read on my Kindle.

4:45 A.M.  Minimagpie’s second nighttime feeding.  I read more on my Kindle and also get sidetracked by a series of essays in The New Yorker.

5:25 A.M.  I scold myself for staying awake to read and go back to sleep.

7:00 A.M.  Groundhog day.

P.S. — You’ll notice that I referenced nearly every single one of my favorite products of all time in this post, but I’ve also broken out some of these heavily-used products below, in categories:

Day in the Life: Beauty Products

Day in the Life: What I Wore

Day in the Life: Baby Gear

Day in the Life: Home Gear