I turn 36 in about two weeks, and I am looking forward to celebrating the occasion with champagne and a new dress. How to choose? Below, my top picks for the occasion (please weigh in!):
P.S. Musings on turning 34 and musings on turning 35. Will it surprise you that I have very little new insight to share on the shape of my life as I turn 36? This year has been a wild ride and when I haven’t been entirely consumed by my children, I’ve been humbled by the chaos of the lives of so many others.
P.P.S. Love these wet-dry bags (currently on sale, with free shipping) for the children and am very curious about this “mermaid serum” (on sale right now) that is getting a lot of press. I need another serum like I need a hole in my head but I’m still intrigued.
I like New York in June, how about you? I like a Gershwin tune, how about you? I love a fireside when a storm is due I like potato chips, moonlight, motor trips, how about you?
Mr. Magpie and I had a laugh the other night when we listened to Frank Sinatra croon the first line from the above lyrics —
“I wouldn’t know, Frank. What is New York? What is June?”
We have lost all sense for the magic of this city and for the season besides. The only indication that we’ve slipped into summer, aside from the warmer weather, is that we no longer need to bracket our day around preschool Zoom sessions–both a welcome reprieve and an unsettling un-anchoring that has let our days adrift, like rowboats untethered from the dock.
So it’s just…this? Us? On our own, no guideposts?
Some mornings, we have the children fed, cleaned, and dressed and have survived tantrums, messes, and injuries–and it is only seven-forty-three a.m. Other days, I am surprised to look up and realize it is nearly ten: time for micro’s nap, and a big chunk of the day beneath our belts. Why is it that some days drift by uneventfully, almost peacefully, and others feel unbearably long? And yet after every particularly impatient and exhausting day I have, I am grateful to find that God grants me a special kind of grace the following morning, and I feel unexpectedly restored and ready. And so I sit on the little stool in mini’s room and color with her for the umpteenth million time, cheered by her little voice assessing my work and telling me: “good job! I’m so proud of you!”, or pantomime excitement as she dictates which characters I may perform as we play with her Maileg mice or her Little People, or stack and re-stack blocks with micro in dawdling trails of activity throughout these June mornings. I am occasionally astounded by micro’s attention to detail — today, I watched him carefully retrieve a little doll crib from mini’s bookshelves, place it on the ground without disturbing its contents, and then remove and replace the three little dog figurines stowed inside with meticulous care. Mini’s vibrant imagination and unyielding attentiveness are equal parts impressive and hilarious. Yesterday, nodding in mini’s direction, I asked Mr. Magpie: “Should we let her have an i-c-e-c-r-e-a-m?” Without missing a beat, mini chimed in: “What are you saying about ice cream?”
If it feels like I am writing too much about the toll this quarantine has taken on me as a parent, I probably am. I am in constant friction with myself: “Stop writing about this! Enough! Buckle down! Settle down! So many people have it so much worse!” and yet and yet and yet — the circumstances we are living through are unnatural, protracted, trying. I have yet to talk with a parent whose eyes don’t bulge out of her head when asked how things are going. Without playdates, outings, group classes, extracurriculars, and sitters, even stay-at-home moms and homeschooling parents have noted: “This is not normal, what we are doing now.” I wonder if there are many parents the world over who spend this much time alone with their children? Even in cultures and societies and economic circumstances vastly different from my own, children are raised by communities of people. I feel ill-equipped to do this on my own. My children need other inputs, distractions, models, teachers, friends! I am not enough.
At the same time: children are resilient.
At the same time: I am lucky to have this time safe at home with my children.
At the same time: my dad often says, “I’ve learned to take the long view on these things.” One day I will look back on this time and think, “Did that happen?” Quarantine will be a blip on the radar, and — knowing myself — I will probably conjure its memory with rose-colored glasses. “All that time with my babies to myself!” I will say, dabbing away tears.
But I am writing this today just to sit with you. Just to create space here to acknowledge that though things seem to be opening up and time seems to be moving forward, my daily experience — and I assume this to be true for many of you — has not changed.
And though I can’t speak to the charms of New York in June, I do want to close by short-listing some of the things I very much like right now (how about you?):
I like the way micro will crawl over to me on the picnic blanket in Central Park, pull himself up, and rest his head on my shoulder as he stands, watching the world around him.
I like the sloping greensward we have claimed as our own in Central Park — a stretch of grass we visit every afternoon, whose contours mini now knows as well as any child might know her own backyard. Within that space, she has rolled down the hill, watched the dogs from the neighboring dog run, drawn octopi and suns with sidewalk chalk on the stones that demarcate the walkway from the lawn, dripped ice cream and popsicle onto the grass, released butterflies she grew from caterpillars, played catch with her father using her own beloved baseball glove, chased “Mr. Robinsons” (robins), blown three hundred thousand bubbles, and — entirely unprompted — tilted her head, squinting over at me through the sunlight, and said: “I love you mama.”
I like five p.m. happy hour: a refreshingly tart glass of ice-cold rose or, on lucky evenings, an artisanal cocktail from Mr. Magpie.
I like open windows season, blessedly extended during this week of 60-70-degree weather in Manhattan: the city inhabiting my apartment, reminding me that I am not alone.
I like the way our doorwoman Nelly calls mini “beautiful princesa” every time we come and go.
I like the way mini says “the ipsy bipsy spider” and “ambliance” (ambulance) and “ozinge” (orange) and “yo-grette” (yogurt). I will not permit myself to parrot these babyish mispronunciations back to her (i.e., I will not let myself say, “do you want the ozinge one?”) but I simply cannot bring myself to correct her.
I like listening to my audiobooks while working on a puzzle in the dining room while micro naps and mini enjoys iPad time.
I like the seven p.m. cheers in the evening, applauding essential workers who have been bravely keeping the city running for months on end.
I like the early summer rain showers that leave the city cool and quiet.
I like the stretch of brownstones I pass on one of the numbered streets between Central Park West and Columbus, its proud doorways and broad French windows and leafy courtyards and stone stairwells startlingly romantic.
I like an early lunch — noon at the latest — with Mr. Magpie sitting across from me. Meaningful conversation always evades us with two children interrupting our attempts, but still: he is there, and I love all of this time with him.
I like the feeling of a clean kitchen after breakfast is finished: dishwasher emptied, counters and stovetop scrubbed clean.
I like wearing sundresses and bare feet. I have always said I love all four seasons, but man. I think I could live somewhere that is above 70 degrees most of the year.
I like the weekly story times my children have with their cousins, my mother reading them picture books via FaceTime.
I like the little park I can see from the window at which I write: a sliver of green between two tall brick buildings, verdant treetops dancing in the sunlight.
+Currently reading The Warmth of Other Suns (spellbinding, lyrical nonfiction) and currently listening to Super Pumped (Bad Blood vibes — a book I could not put down). Just finished reading Ghosted (an underwhelming suspense) and listening to both Such a Fun Age (provocative and candid look at race and class dynamics in present-day America, though I found the plot line forced and the characters roughly drawn) and Lady in Waiting (a memoir of Princess Margaret’s lady in waiting — which I absolutely loved for her ability to “take the long view” as I put it earlier).
+These monogrammed seersucker swim trunks for boys are only $13.59! TBH, I have been putting Hill in some of his swim trunks with a polo on hot days at the park, despite the fact that we likely won’t encounter any water. So breathable and easy to pull on!
+This woven pendant light is such a fantastic statement — you could completely transform a room with this for under $200. Pair with this rug for a reasonably-priced coastal-chic breakfast nook.
+More Amy Berry interior design magic (seen above). I love the Mark Sikes rug — yet another insanely gorgeous style from his collection, and relatively reasonably priced for the quality and high-end style. More of my favorite rugs here.
+Alert! La Coqueta sale is here! I think one of my very first purchases for mini (before she was born) was a special dress from La Coqueta. They make the most exquisite children’s clothing. I have my eye on this pretty blue linen striped number (seen above) and this berry print beauty. Both of my children wore their knit sets as itty bitties — this would be such a sweet addition to your little one’s wardrobe, or a great gift for a newborn baby (unisex!)
+I am apparently all about the dramatic, billowing maxi these days, but I could not stop staring at this Jonathan Simkhai gown (on sale here and here). Never enough LWDs! Or, in this case, BIG white dresses.
Nearly all of my friends and I have been texting one another, sussing out whether or not to send children back to daycare or invite beloved caregivers into our homes, cancel that trip, begin to consider postponing a fall wedding, visit aging parents, buy a car to get the hell out of dodge, finally part ways with the family we moved in with early into the quarantine, etc. All of us are desperately hoping to be told, “It’s OK; go ahead. Do it.” The reality is murky and depends on so many individual and local factors, in addition to personal risk tolerance and the meaningful ballast of community-sensitive ethics. Even small things buckle under the weight of caution: haircuts? teeth cleaning? dry cleaning or tailoring? Where to draw the lines? Even acts of neighborliness are freighted with concern: we have lovely neighbors who are over the age of sixty and I have on many occasions considered bringing them things: treats from Hill’s first birthday celebration, a parcel of Anne of Green Gable cookies, a couple servings of the nearly four gallons of hummus Mr. Magpie overzealously made earlier this year. I hemmed and hawed over leaving them a note with my cell number on it, as I was not sure I’d ever given it to them — would the paper be a violation of their wellbeing? How far do we go with precaution?
I found this guide from NPR helpful in terms of laying out the risks of partaking in various activities this summer, especially in its articulation of how to mitigate risks–and what might escalate them.
What are you doing this summer?
Post-Scripts.
+I have been lusting after a Pippa Holt caftan for some time now, and especially love this white and blue colorway. I did find three artisans elsewhere who sell similar handmade/hand-embroidered huipils for a fraction of the price: this artisan on eBay (100% positive feedback), this boutique on Etsy (five star shop), and this Etsy shop (also five stars).
+Speaking of artisanal, hand-embroidered clothing: how beyond precious are these dresses from Luna Antigua, a boutique that sources and curates pieces from artisans in Guatemala?
+This centerpiece would be PERFECT for a little gal celebrating a summertime birthday!!! You could plan an ice cream party around just this. I mean THESE in a goody bag?!
The summer I fell in love with Anne and Gilbert (and I can’t remember exactly which year it was), my mother gave me a large hard-cover book that included what I can only describe as Anne of Green Gables fan club material: recipes, sketches of the characters, craft ideas, and — I can’t really recall much else, but even as a child, I remember warming to its good-natured, rustic, enjoy-the-simpler-things ethos. I recall pressing flowers between the pages of my parents’ telephone directories per the instructions in my Anne fan club book, lost in some world in which a future suitor might find these winningly girlish gestures and linger over them in wonderment. In reality, my parents would be leafing through the directory in search of the local Dominos number for pizza delivery on Friday night and a small shower of dead, smushed wild flowers would collect at their feet. Swooning over my own romantic, Victorian-era elegance, I tried my hand at other crafts involving doilies and attempts at calligraphy and ribbons, all of which bore equally unimpressive results–
but then there were her thumbprint cookies.
These have withstood the test of time in their fetching simplicity. They belong with warm summer air, ants on a picnic blanket, and bare feet. Fresh-squeezed lemonade and footfall on grass. Freckles and swing sets. Screen doors and cricketsong.
In other words: not here, in our New York City apartment, where we are always a several minute walk away from meaningful expanses of foliage.
But they do the trick nonetheless, reminding me of simpler times, the sweltering heat of my hometown D.C., the childlike belief that I could make myself anything I wanted to be by following the instructions.
Enjoy.
*In photo above, mini is rolling the cookie dough in this dish — melamine! These are some of our most-used plates. They are the perfect size for a snack/child-sized portion of nearly anything, sweet to look at, and unbreakable.
Anne of Green Gables Jam Cookies.
Preheat oven to 375. Mix 1 cup room temperature butter, 1/3 cup brown sugar, and 1/3 cup white granulated sugar until light and fluffy. Add one egg yolk and 1/2 teaspoon vanilla. Mix in 2 cups flour and a pinch of salt. Roll into 1” balls and roll each ball in a small dish of granulated sugar. Place on baking tray. Press fingertip into center of each cookie to make a well. Fill with preserves. Bake 10 minutes.
Notes: I made this recipe recently with mini and found that we needed a little more flour (maybe 1/4 cup), as dough should not be particularly sticky–it should be more like cut-out sugar cookie dough than chocolate chip cookie dough, able to hold its shape. I also found that it took closer to 12 or 13 minutes before they started to brown at edges, but ovens are always irritating to contend with–mine have always run cooler than indicated.
Fellow mothers in search of quarantined-induced activities: This is a recipe perfect for little hands desperate to help, with opportunities to roll dough into balls, coat in sugar, depress with over-eager thumbs, and fill with jam.And, you know, eat enormous scoopfuls of sugar left over in the cookie-rolling dish.
+If you are also a pressed flower lover, you must see the beautiful artwork by Ron Nicole, which the artist describes as “floral inspired fossils,” made by pressing live flowers into hand-rolled clay and then finishing with plaster/cement. Absolutely breathtaking.
+All of this vintage summer talk has me longing for…
+Chic melamine dishes for outdoor dining: these (on super sale), these (a grandmillennial dream TBH), these (almost look hand-painted), and these in the peach print. When I buy a set, I like to keep a few extra on hand to use when giving away cookies/treats to friends. A little more festive and sturdy than a paper plate!
+If you missed the boat on the Doen dreamy float dresses of seasons past — quick! This style is now available again at Net-A-Porter! Or get the look for under $30 with this or this.
+This is just the most perfect shade of lilac-white-gray nail lacquer ever. My best friend wore a shade like this on her birthday literally a decade ago that had been custom to some chic salon she’d been to and I have been on the hunt ever since. This might be it.
+Still some pieces left in the designer collabs for Target — but heads up! These dresses run really big. Size down! I’ve chatted with a few Magpies on this front — the shirtdresses are fine because you can cinch the waist decently with the tie. A few of you have said that you love the styles so much you are willing to pay for tailoring! I agree with that — I have a couple of well-loved dresses from H&M and Zara that I had tailored in spite of their low price tags and wear them constantly…
+Gorgeous scalloped Marysia basic on sale — plus extra 10% off with code EXTRA10. I have a couple of Marysia suits in solids and I have to say I reach for them season after season. They are elegant, timeless, well-made, worth the investment in a non-trendy solid!
+Hello, lover. I actually don’t love an ankle strap shoe — I feel like it chops the leg off at a weird point — but the bow on the toe of this beauty is too good to be true. (Short person problems…)
+Someone with a tiny baby girl: this dress!!! 30% off and perfect perfect perfect. All Proper Peony dresses are heirloom-quality! This petal collar beauty is also on sale! (Note that Bagsy also has a decent selection of their beautiful pieces, either gently worn or even NWT at great prices).
By: Jen Shoop
And I’m back, with another round of reviews of recently-purchased products, many of which were purchased based on a lot of press and hype. (More honest products reviews here.)
1 // Billie Razors. The novelty here is the auto-ship feature–and the reasonable price. The colorful branding and packaging don’t hurt, but the main draw for me is that my subscription means one less thing to keep tabs on. Early into motherhood, a mom friend said that it was a huge help to her to automate as much as she could and buy in bulk, in advance. It sounds petty but staying on top of the inventory of those little household products does add “admin” time to your day; Amazon’s Subscribe & Save program has enabled me to totally forget about checking whether we are low on detergent, hand soap, diapers and wipes, garbage bags, and more. Convenient to add razors/blades to that list now, too. I can’t say I think the actual razor is any way superior to the Gillettes I have used for years, but the little magnetic wall-mount thing is pretty nifty. I think I might gift these to my sisters — a “let me take one more thing off your plate” gesture.
2 // Billie Serum-Infused Face Wipes. I love these. Honestly, I also love Arcona cleansing pads and view them similarly: the perfect stand-in when you want to clean, tone, and brighten your skin but don’t feel like going through your entire skincare regimen. To that end, I also recently purchased Laura Napier’s La Rose Beauty Facial Wipes, which people absolutely rave about and which are conveniently individually wrapped (stash in purse!) — on reflection, I guess I really love this kind of product for when I’m lazy or want to do a quick skin prep before reapplying makeup after a shower or in the afternoon. That said, what I can say specifically about Billie’s wipes, having used them exclusively over the past few weeks, is that they leave a beautiful, radiant, flushed glow behind, have a lovely feel — soft but textured enough that it’s actually removing makeup and impurities –and are much cheaper than both of the others. I also like that Billie’s is a full wipe vs. a small pad.
3 // Mad Hippie Vitamin C Serum. I wrote about this elsewhere this week, but I am very impressed with this affordable brightening, smoothing serum. I’ve heard different things from different readers on this front, but I do find it glides on and then goes kind of “tacky” before disappearing entirely into the skin. So, the application isn’t as luxurious and seamless as it has been with my Vintner’s Daughter serum, but for the price difference, it’s hardly worth noting. I haven’t seen a huge difference in the tonality of my skin since switching, which I take to be a good sign in terms of quality of both products. I will be using this for the foreseeable future, though I am also curious about Pinkness’ Forever Flawless Beauty Oil (supposed to be ultra-hydrating) and the Biossance oil several of you have recommended, which purports to achieve similar results.
4 // La Roche-Posay Podologics Foot Cream. If you buy nothing else from this list, please buy this. I had dry, angry, callused feet after the cold winter and quarantine-induced lack of pedicures, and I was frankly ashamed to wear sandals. THIS CREAM HAS CHANGED EVERYTHING. I walk around feeling as though I’ve just had a pedicure! I applied it twice a day for the first two weeks and now apply just before bed. It’s non-greasy, absorbs well, and just…works. Even on calluses and cracked skin and whatever else you’ve got going. Best $15 I’ve spent on beauty in a long while.
5 // Nike React Infinity Running Shoes (on sale in select colors here!). Love these. They have a very different foot-feel compared to the trainers I’d grown accustomed to — more arch support and a thicker, more foam-like foot-bed in general. It kind of felt like I was running with lifts in or something at first — ha! — and it took a bit of adjustment. But they are incredible comfortable and I like how secure but breathable the top portion is — I even wear them sans-socks if I’m wearing them to take the children to the park (never for actual running). I also love that they are specifically designed to “reduce injury” given that I injured my heel within just two weeks of starting to jog again. (Side note: if you’re contemplating getting started on a fitness regimen, especially if this is a postpartum initiative, go easy on yourself.) Very happy with this purchase.
6 // Random Home Organization Stuff — Like many of you, quarantine has given rise to some re-organization projects, and not all organizational products are created equal (though all these are really good).
+I love these pasta keepers, which are the perfect length and height for holding just over a pound of pasta. We often boil a half pound of pasta for ourselves and so would have unwieldy, open bags jostling around in our pantry cabinets. (P.S. – We basically only buy Afeltra bronze-cut pasta and it is the best the best the best — actually makes a huge difference in the taste, mouth-feel, and sauciness of the dish!) These have been helpful and, like the true loser I am, I used our label machine to indicate the pasta type and cooking time on top. Can you tell we are a pair of Type A pasta lovers?
+I also bought these lidded cubby bins to sort all of mini’s paints, craft supplies, stickers, etc — and we’ve accrued a lot of this gear thanks to quarantine — and I have to say I wouldn’t recommend them. The lids don’t actually “snap” in place, just kind of lay on the top, which is irritating when you’re pulling one out from beneath another one or trying to cram some extra pom poms in. I’d go with Sterilite bins if I did it over again.
+Not quite organization, but I have found a lot of use for these Munchkin splash plates, which are actually more like shallow bowls (they have about a 1″ high lip). I found it annoying to serve up Hill’s dinner in the Re-Play plates because he still eats so little and the plates felt unnecessarily large. I like these because I just create a couple of mounds of whatever’s on the menu for that night and can also keep his spoon and water cup on the tray, all in one contained space. I also like them for serving mini snacks and keeping her water bottle upright on the little pouf she has in her room. Very random, possibly idiosyncratic, but — a good score.
7 // Busy Bees Face Masks. These are well-made, comfortable, and cute. I actually purchased mine in the 10-14 year child size because I have found most face masks are way too big for my elfin-sized head (ha), but they also have a proper adult size. One thing I like about these in particular is that they hold up well in the wash and don’t require ironing or any special treatment.
8 // Mason Pearson Brush. This isn’t actually new to me, as I’ve owned one of these for a long time but then lost mine in the move to the UWS and had to replace. These are simply the best brushes. I don’t know enough about the science of what’s happening — something about redistributing oils or tension with the hair strands — but a couple of brushes with this transforms snaggly-looking hair into something with wavy sheen. It’s unbelievable and I don’t know how I went back to using anything else for awhile there. You can also buy them on eBay for about half the price because they are opened boxes; Courtney Grow first alerted me to this and stands behind the authenticity of this seller, having purchased multiple from him!
10 // These are the best bubbles for little ones. Not particularly sexy or interesting, but the formula is excellent and the wand is easy enough for a toddler to run around Central Park with, leaving a trail of bubbles behind. This has preoccupied about an hour straight every day for the last week.
Now that we are planning to get away for a small portion of the summer (amen and hallelujah — my children need that space!), I have been researching possible backyard and beach activities and gear for my toddler. Below, a roundup of my favorite finds:
*Mini will lose her mind over these. We have been “using” a pair of “noculars” we made out of toilet paper rolls — she’s obsessed with the idea of spying on things with them. And once, Mr. Magpie let her borrow his flash light when we were building a fort out of boxes and she kept flashing it in our eyes so we had to take them away — she was absolutely distraught and did not stop talking about the flash light for a good 24 hours. She will go wild with these possessions.
For swim/beach/backyard fun wear, mini’s closet is stocked with these exact items:
Finally, while on the subject of children’s gear, I have been looking for ways to diversify both our library and toy chest. The Conscious Kid has great suggestions on literature. A few toys I have discovered:
Image above from brand Kalita. You can find the stunning backless maxi dress seen above (and on sale!) here.
Over the past few weeks, it has been rare that I have slept through the night. My wakefulness stems sporadically from heat or street noise, often from the apparition-like appearance of my three-year-old at my bedside, and mostly from floods of thought that seem to surge overnight, when I am not distracted by pleas for goldfish and strawberries, the incessant cleaning of the high chair tray, and the limbs and claws and kisses of my two children. I am nearly always awake at 3 a.m. Sometimes I stew. Often I read. Occasionally I leave cryptic, befuddling notes to myself on my iPhone that leave me hunched in decipherment at my desk the following morning. Today, I read in my notes from a couple of sleepless nights ago:
Carrie Bradshaw — Season 2 — flanerie, accounted time, matrescence
every minute accounted for
I have been turning on old episodes of Sex and the City when the sleeplessness extends beyond an hour. The note was referring to the vignette of a season two Carrie Bradshaw leaving her birthday party in TriBeCa and elegantly refusing to accept Mr. Big’s offer for a ride uptown in that winning, twisty-smiled, conscientious way she has. Mr. Big exits stage left and she turns and strolls, shruggingly, in the other direction, her gait suggestive of an idler kicking a can around an alley in unhurried self-reflection. I found myself cringing at the staginess and at the same time, while aware that I was wandering into a weird headspace given that I was watching a serial TV show with many improbable and unrealistic plot conventions, wondering why anyone would opt to amble around deserted storefronts at night instead of being efficiently whisked home by private car.
In short, her flanerie pricked something.
When was the last time I wandered somewhere? I thought to myself. I’m sure there must have been times before and after, but I could only think of Lyon, where I lived by and large alone, untethered from all loved ones whose routines might impact my own and not particularly close with my roommate, who traveled a fair amount besides. There was no one to check in with, no one to leave a note for on the kitchen table, no one to breathlessly text at nine-forty-eight p.m.: “Got held up at dinner — will be home later than expected!” Instead, I would wake on Saturdays and stroll through the farmer’s market, or read on a bench in Place Carnot, or walk through the rose-trellised pathways to Fourviere–or do none of those things.
I had learned to “walk with purpose” after my older brother had observed me slouching my way toward his car one afternoon after an orthodontist appointment at the age of fifteen. When I opened the car door, he had said, with uncharacteristic fierceness: “You need to walk with your shoulders back, like you’re going somewhere.” I’m certain I scowled in reciprocity, but the admonishment worked. I still think of it today on the odd occasion I catch my reflection in the mirrored glass of a neighborhood boutique: shoulders back. At any rate, though I had learned to adopt the posture of walking with purpose, in Lyon, I was, in fact, roaming without it.
My chapter in Lyon feels alien to me now for many reasons, but in particular, I can scarcely make out the sensations of flanerie. Nowadays, I am always flitting around, ticking things off lists, hurrying–including during this time of forced seclusion, where days putter by in dribs and drabs, yet I continue to barrel through my apartment in a maelstrom of activity. Walks through the park barely qualify for the moniker “strolls,” as they must accommodate sleep schedules, the need for proximity to a bathroom, the chirps or whines or queries of a passionate toddler who must stop to point out every “Mr. Robinson” (robin — the sweetest of malapropisms, an illogical hybrid between her favorite show “Mr. Rogers,” our best friends the Robertsons, and the bird) we see in the brush and whose desire to ride on the kickboard ebbs and flows minute-to-minute. I even find myself rushing when I jog, trimming that extra minute of stretching or running door-to-door rather than easing into the jog with a warm-up walk, aware that my hobby encroaches on Mr. Magpie’s limited breaks from the children. My evening excursion with our Airedale, Tilly, is often shaded by a desire to get home, where dinner and a glass of wine — quarantine high points — await. And besides, if I opted to roam through the Park with no itinerary, Mr. Magpie would send me a worried text: “Everything OK?”
In college, I took a course on Turn of the Century Art and Poetry — Baudelaire, Wilde, Toulouse-Lautrec, Aubrey Beardsley. We talked about the turn-of-the-century ennui captured in so much of this art, the widespread belief that civilization inevitably gave way to dissolution and decadence, and the corresponding emergence of the flaneur in cultural productions of the times, a dandyish figure who roamed the streets, lost somewhere between self-reflection and critical spectatorship. We read the rise of the flaneur as a critique of consumer capitalism and a symptom of urban alienation. If I were taking the course now, I would find myself mired in the practicalities of this figure’s existence: who had the flexibility to roam the streets of Paris for hours — for days — on end? Did his wife care for the children? Who was letting his dog out? Did he opt not to marry in order to accommodate this lifestyle? What must that decision have felt like? Was he really wandering or did he follow a route every day? Pragmatic and beside-the-point questions on this front would come fast and furious, and I would quickly attempt to shuffle the observations into some passable comment on fin-de-siecle gender roles before the inevitable throat-clearing and head-tilting of other classmates. “That’s interesting,” a professor might say, “and yet, let’s return to the question of urban modernization…” And still, my thoughts would pool there.
Mr. Magpie has often said that one of the biggest surprises to him after becoming a father was that “my time is no longer my own — ever.” Naps end out of sync with attempted episodes of self-care or hobby or rest, runs to the store are punctuated by the possibility of some urgent call to return home, thoughtful conversations — the kind meant to unspool with abandon over the course of a few hours — are interrupted by crashes in the nursery or rustling over the baby monitor. Parents don’t wander. Even married people and pet owners can’t wander far or long, called by the need to return to home base, replenish water bowls, check in with spouses, start dinner with that rapidly-wilting produce in the fridge, pick up the milk. Come to think of it, probably very few adults wander.
To be clear: it is a blessing to be needed, and you will find no snarkiness here on the responsibilities I have chosen for myself. I love being a mother and I love being a wife. And is the inability to wander even a sacrifice anyway? I am a Type A homebody, I hate being cold, and most of the time, I’d rather be reading. At the same time, I think that embarking on parenthood (or pet ownership or marriage or home ownership or caring for an aging parent or, well, so many of the milestones we make as we grow older) has occasionally startled me in its complete re-orientation of my time and my experience of my own selfhood–even now, on the eve of 36 years of age, after I have spent a non-trivial amount of time interrogating this exact subject. I will often go for long stretches without thinking much about it, lost in the shuffle of quotidian life, and then I will see Carrie Bradshaw roaming around TriBeCa and I will think, “What must that be like?”
P.S. More thoughts on balancing motherhood, marriage, and selfhood here and here.
+When I was younger, I thought I’d be the type of adult who would wear silky trousers and sophisticated bias-cut gowns in the evenings — basically, that I would look like Carolyn Bessette Kennedy and my closet would be full of pieces that look like present-day Cushnie, Nili Lotan, and Ralph Lauren Black Label. I have not graduated to that lifestyle or level of sophistication, but still covet a pair of silky trousers like these or these — both by Cushnie and both on sale. As I mentioned yesterday, Cushnie also has a collaboration with Target right now, and many of the brands elegant silhouettes are available for under $60.
+The handmade stuffed animals from Raplapla are so sweet and whimsical — love this koala and this octopus. (Who else has a child obsessed with octopi, squid, and jellyfish?)
+Mentioned this elsewhere, but these are fantastic kick shorts for layering under mini’s summer dresses. I bought several pairs in white — hold up well in the wash and well-priced, too.
+I think I might be buying mini her first set of Calico Critters soon. Who else had these growing up?
+A couple of books I have purchased or pre-ordered (so many of these books are sold out everywhere — other recs welcome! I have also been referring to the Conscious Kid for suggestions) for mini’s library with the plan of having more conversations about race at home: Wings by Christopher Myers, All Are Welcome by Alexandra Penfold, and The Skin I’m In by Pat Thomas.
I’ve featured the high-end swim and resort wear label Lisa Marie Fernandez countless times on this blog but just discovered that she has just launched a capsule collection at Target — !! As always with these collaborations, pieces are flying. I am especially loving this white cut-out dress (seen above — more LWDs here), this caftan-like stunner, this OTS beauty (which looks an awful lot like pieces from her prestige line, two of which are on serious sale here and here), and am devastated I missed out on this puff-sleeved pink shirtdress, though it’s still available in a fetching yellow gingham in most sizes, and I just snapped one up for myself. The shapes, colors, details are SO chic, and the prices are under $60!
Target has two other incredible designer collections right now, LoveShackFancy x Target (love this and this) and Cushnie x Target (love this).
P.S. Speaking of designer looks for less, this has Self-Portrait written all over it.
