We compiled all Magpie recipes into beautiful cards for your kitchen! Get the recipe card collection in your inbox here.
I love a good pasta/grain salad — you can usually prepare it ahead of time and then let it sit at room temperature or chill for a few hours in the fridge so you’re ready to go whenever dinner hour rolls around–or whenever you need a bite of something meaningful. I’m often peckish around 4:30 in the afternoon and a handful of pretzels is never enough: I want a mouthful of well-dressed grains to tide me over until dinner o’clock. Pasta salads are the ideal solution, and though I just wrote an entire post about the art of sitting down to eat with a napkin and plate, it would be disingenuous to omit that I rather enjoy the indulgence of scooping a spoonful of pasta out of a bowl with the refrigerator door wide open. My mother would be appalled.
They are also a wonderful way to clear out the fridge/pantry when need be. One of my favorite recipes for this kind of pantry-clearing activity is “Summer Couscous Salad,” a recipe I’ve had for ages and ages whose provenance is unclear. It’s written on an oil-spattered 3×5 index card in my teenager hand — so it’s been a staple of mine for going on twenty years. Despite the name, I eat this salad year-round and it’s pretty much perfect, stands up well to substitutions, and even meets Mr. Magpie’s approval. I’ll be serving it to my girlfriend for dinner this week, and I’m just as excited about the prospect of having it for lunches over the course of the next few days.
Summer Couscous Salad
Preheat oven to 425. Mix â…› cup Dijon mustard with â…› cup honey and 1 tablespoon olive oil. Arrange three pounds chicken (I generally prefer bone-in, skin-on but use your best judgment) on a large baking sheet and coat with honey mustard. Bake for 25-30 minutes, or until juices run clear. Once cool enough to handle, shred with a fork.
Prepare a box of couscous according to label instructions.
Combine ¼ cup lemon juice, ½ cup olive oil, ½ tablespoon lemon zest, 1.5 teaspoons kosher salt, 1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper. Toss couscous with about half of vinaigrette; add more if you think more is called for. Add thinly sliced red onion, ¼ cup shelled pistachios, a few handfuls of fresh watercress, ¼ cup almonds (halved and slivered), halved grapes, and shredded chicken.
*I have done tons of variations on the ingredients. Sometimes watercress is difficult to find and arugula is the perfect stand-in. I often toss in dried apricots or cherries, especially when I don’t have grapes — but sometimes I do both! I’m cheeky like that. You can also substitute whatever nuts you have on hand but I will say there is something peculiarly satisfying about the pistachio/almond mix. Still, there’s room to explore there. Also good to throw in leftover roasted asparagus or boiled green beans or even shelling peas — literally, whatever you’ve got works.
I’ll be serving this as a light supper along with whipped smoked ricotta (with toasted baguette slices), some charcuterie, and my go-to weeknight red wine: Carmenere, which is a spicy and delicious red wine from Chile and if you’ve not yet tried it, I implore you to. It’s typically very inexpensive (you can often get a good bottle for around $10-12) and it goes with everything.
+HURRY. Two of my favorite pairs of Rebecca de Ravenel earrings are on ridiculous sale: these are 70% off and these are under $60! I own and wear these constantly.
+Now is the time to stock up for next year on things like hats! The sale section here is so, so good. Ordered a new sweatshirt for mini, a sunsuit for micro, and this cotton one-piece for him, too. I can’t have enough of those! Perfect for casual weekdays at home. This was one of my favorite tops in mini’s closet this fall!
After writing an update on our apartment’s interior design the other day, a few of you reached out asking for more furniture ideas and especially items at a reasonable price. Sharing some of my favorite finds, many of them epic steals, but first wanted to mention that lately I have been so inspired by traditional Southern homes (example above) — essentially the opposite of how our Manhattan apartment looks and feels at the moment. This is just a reminder that there are so many styles out there and it’s fun to borrow elements you love from all of them, or evolve into new styles as you age and your life circumstances change. On occasion, I daydream about having a proper Southern home with a swinging screen door and a big porch and things like tassels on old wood chests and palm leaf chandeliers (as seen in above picture)…but for now, a few items I’m loving:
IKEA SHELVING UNIT (I’M NOT USUALLY AN IKEA FAN, BUT THIS GOT EXCELLENT REVIEWS SO WE BOUGHT IT FOR MINI’S ROOM — IT IS IDEAL FOR STORING BOOKS AND THEN LINING BOTTOM SQUARES WITH THESE PRETTY BINS FOR TOYS…AND SO SO AFFORDABLE!)
On the splurge side: I am dead over this beautiful bassinet and how fun are the colors of this four poster bed?! The tangerine or ocean colors would be such an amazing way to introduce color and contrast to a room!
I featured a lot of wicker styles above — it’s such a chic way to introduce texture and a coastal vibe to your home, and it tends to be more affordable than other materials. If you’re dubious, check out inspo here.
I wrote some time ago comparing the shift from 0-1 children vs. 1-2, but I neglected to cover some of the more practical aspects of this monumental change. I will preface this post by saying that nothing has humbled me quite like having a second child. All of the parenting “successes” I celebrated with mini now feel like happenstance accidents in that I feel I have been fairly consistent in my approach with both and yet have seen different outcomes and different patterns. This suggests to me that nurture is part of it but nature is most of it and that parenting, for me, is more about being the branch that bends versus the mighty oak that breaks in the storm.
All that said, I have received a number of emails and direct messages from moms preparing for their second children and I thought I’d share a few thoughts on the more practical end of the spectrum:
The first six months are chaos, but it does get easier. Months three and four with baby two were probably the hardest months of parenting I have yet endured. We were moving, battling illnesses, and generally helter-skelter, but even still. The smooshy, heart-swelling haze of having a newborn had lost its luster and I was flat-out exhausted from several months of sleeplessness, still getting into a groove with parenting two children, managing all of my postpartum emotions/physical changes, and navigating a constantly shifting schedule. I have chatted with many of my mom friends with two children and they agree that months three through six are a pretty rough ride and you occasionally wonder whether you will survive. But you do! And at or around six months, things begin to lighten up. The baby is sleeping longer and more consistently. The number of feeds each day drops. You suddenly find an entire day pass with relative quietude — maybe because you are more capable at avoiding common pitfalls (i.e., you’ve developed more sophisticated or effective techniques for preventing accidents or meltdowns or moments where everyone is crying) or maybe because you’ve developed more stamina to endure them. But it gets easier and things begin to click and the number of times you find yourself sitting on the floor with your two babies happily playing begins to spike and you think, “this is what I’d always imagined it would be.” (Then, of course, your toddler chucks a wooden block at your head and the romance disappears BUT — things feel rosier in general.) So remember this when you are drained: it will get easier.
One on one time with the older sibling is crucial. Mini has been incredibly sweet with micro. She often entertains him, fetches his toys when he drops them, and sprints into the kitchen to let me know that “baby brudder needs you, mama.” She loves to give him too-tight hugs and lay in his crib with him. She is a natural and nothing makes me weepier than watching her with her brother. All that said, we have of course witnessed telltale signs of jealousy. For example, there was a period where mini would frequently have an “accident” when I was busy nursing micro. To this day, she occasionally yanks toys out of his hands or flaps her hand in his direction in a gesture I can only describe as “pretend hitting”–all very loud and obvious calls for our attention. And then there was a period about six months after micro was born where we saw a lot of tantrums, extreme pickiness with food, a spike in accidents, and general crankiness. It took us awhile to realize this was a deferred reaction to her brother’s permanence in our lives, but things calmed down when we started to make a concerted effort to spend (planned) one-on-one time with her every single weekend. This is now an ongoing part of our weekly STP sessions: what will we do with mini the next few weekends, and who will be her companion to what? (There is always a notable, awkward, throat-clearing pause when we deliberate over who will accompany her to a birthday party……) Sometimes this takes the shape of a big excursion, like taking her to see “Paddington Gets in a Jam” or to the Museum of Ice Cream (both big hits with her). Sometimes it’s taking her to story time at Books of Wonder or the library. And sometimes it’s taking her around the corner to pick out a cactus at the plant shop or to pick up groceries. But the point is to give her uninterrupted solo time with one parent or the other. We have seen the most enormous change in her attitude and overall happiness. Gone are the accidents and oh my God, we seem to be through the picky eating stage. I wish we’d started doing this earlier, though I will be honest and say that the first six months are exhausting and overwhelming and logistically challenging (especially when breastfeeding every 1-3 hours) so it was hard for us to work up the energy and organization to plan these outings back then. In short: don’t feel badly if you’re sitting there thinking, “BUT HOW WILL I ADD THAT TO MY VERY FULL PLATE RIGHT NOW?!” Trust me, things do ease up. Planning ahead really helps. I keep a running list of possible activities in my phone and jot down ideas for museums, dates, performances, classes, etc any time they occur to me. And in the earlier days? When such outings are difficult to come by? Just put down the baby as soon as you possibly can so you can spend little stretches of one-on-one time with your eldest. This required a significant amount of discipline from me because I wanted to cradle Hill constantly and when I wasn’t, I wanted a break — time to shower, or glaze over on my phone, or close my eyes for 60 seconds. But stealing a few minutes to do a puzzle or read a book with mini always smoothed over ruffled feathers and made us all feel better.
A corollary to the above: be strategic about breastfeeding when the older child is present. Before micro was born, I thought I was being very clever by putting together a little backpack full of activities (sticker books, a little puzzle, a special coloring book, etc) that I would “only let mini use while I was nursing Hill.” I had visions of warmly guiding her to the backpack and having her sit right in the bed with me, quietly playing by herself, while I’d peacefully feed my baby and be fed grapes and look like Madonna and — OMG. Ha. It was well-intended but it always felt like micro needed to be fed at the most inconvenient times, i.e., when mini needed to use the toilet or was crying for my attention. And that backpack? She tore through it within the first day or two of our return from the hospital and then the activities were quickly absorbed into the bins of books and toys in her bedroom, never to be reconsolidated in the backpack again. What I learned was that it was generally best if I could have either our nanny or Mr. Magpie preoccupy mini while I was feeding micro in a separate room. For some reason, nursing always curried the most intense outbursts of jealousy from mini (and left me, obviously, rather immobilized to intercede if something happened) and so I learned she really needed attention/distraction during those sessions. When I knew I would be on my own with both, I would try my hardest to squeeze in a feed before I’d be alone, even if it was a little close to the previous feed. Or, if I knew I was coming up on a feed, I would first make sure she’d used the toilet and then try to prepare some sort of activity (even random things, like sorting dried pasta shapes or “organizing the cupboard,” something she still enjoys doing) or give her a little bit of iPad time or attempt to engross her with toys or books or stickers by playing with her on the ground for a few minutes. This made for very busy and somewhat frenetic days of trying to stay a few steps ahead of the routine, but working out ways to preoccupy mini while breastfeeding micro was essential to surviving.
Just roll with it. Even in spite of my attempts to be strategic, I can’t tell you how many moments I’d look up at the ceiling, take a deep breath, and linger somewhere between crying and laughing hysterically at myself. I specifically remember being on vacation in the Hamptons, trying to dress a freshly-bathed mini while a one-month-old micro was screaming to be fed. I found myself squatting on the ground breastfeeding micro while brushing mini’s hair and pulling her pajamas over her head with one hand, all while she was writhing out of my control. Like, how did we get here?? Looking back, I wonder why I didn’t just let micro cry for a few minutes while finishing up with mini, or permit her to watch the iPad for a tick while feeding micro, or whatever. But there are moments where you need to be all things to all (your) people, and you just have to muscle through and do your best. Roll with it. Maybe that means breastfeeding on the floor of the bathroom while your toddler learns to use the toilet. Maybe that means showering while your toddler colors on the bathroom floor and your baby snoozes in the Boppy next to her. Maybe that means grinning and bearing it while you let your toddler eat her very crumb-y breakfast in your bed next to you while you feed your infant. Etc. A friend of mine told me that when the going gets rough at home (i.e., dog pees on floor, toddler stomps through pee all over house, baby nearly falls out of Boppy — and how is that even possible — all while pot is boiling over and phone is ringing…not that this happened to me or anything), she just thinks, “It’s an even better story to tell my husband when he gets home.” I liked that because it gave me the space to step out of the moment and think about how absolutely laughably crazy things are, and what a champ I was being.
Just roll with it, part two. One of the hardest bits of adjusting to life with two was realizing that there was no possible way to do everything I used to do PLUS care for my new baby. I never fully accepted this, to be honest, though I would tell myself things like: “it’s OK if the house isn’t clean before bed, Jen” as I’d scurry around tidying the living room, knowing I was missing out on an extra four minutes of sleep. I remember my sister visiting me and putting her hand on my hand and saying: “Jen, you need to let something go.” She suggested I hire a housekeeper or commit to ordering in three nights of the week or JUST GO TO BED AS SOON AS THE BABY IS ASLEEP FOR HIS FIRST LONG STRETCH OF THE NIGHT — something to ease the burden. This was a direct and logical reaction to watching me attempt to make a very complicated father’s day dinner for Mr. Magpie while simultaneously vacuuming and breastfeeding and chasing after mini, all on three hours sleep. I had so many meltdowns on Mr. Magpie’s shoulder saying: “I feel like I’m doing everything, but at 25% of my capacity. I’m doing nothing well.” I wish I had a better solution for this but all I can say is: if you can stomach it and afford it, outsource it for the time being. And if you can’t, remind yourself that you’re doing your best and that things will get easier. In the meantime, be ruthless with anything peripheral in your life (I all but stopped going out / being social and completely forgot about exercising) and celebrate the little victories: laundry away, dinner cooked, both babies bathed. These require exertion and planning and if you get it all done in an evening’s work, pat yourself on the back.
Have your mom friends on speed dial. I could not have survived (!) without a group of fellow mom friends I respect and love to lean on. Full stop. Thank you especially to my mom, my sister Liz, Steph, Whitney, Allison, my sister in law Meg, Julia, and Jen — I could not have made it without your love, encouragement, common sense, advice and especially your willingness to just listen. All of these women spent countless hours listening to symptoms, rambling observations, middle-of-the-night panics, exhaustion-riddled sob sessions. GRAZIE MILLE.
Fellow moms: what other thoughts/advice do you have for mothers preparing to greet a second child?
+We just retired Hill’s swing (he’s too heavy and long and can’t stand being in it for more than a minute or two anyway) and are sad to discover he quickly tires of “his office,” too. Nowadays, he’s happiest when we roll out a quilt and let him play on the floor. He’s dangerously close to crawling already. He will scoot himself backwards across the floor or roll over until he’s all the way out of the room. But, if closely supervised, he’ll be happy playing on the ground for long stretches of time. He still enjoys laying under this and playing with its associated toys, though he rarely stays on it for more than a few minutes — he’s usually rolled off of it or is somehow rolling over with it in his hands (!). Because of these developments, I am very happy to have both a high chair (in our dining room) and a booster seat (in our living room) to stow him for short periods of time (and of course when feeding him!)
+Feeding: Bumkins bibs (fold so they take up no space, plus are machine-washable), pulp feeders (use these at every single meal — he loves grapes, mandarin wedges, berries, apples, pineapple, etc in these), Boon spoons, Olababy spoons (mainly use these as “decoy spoons” to keep his hands busy while I’m feeding him), these exact bowls (similar to Bobo & Boo bowls, which I was eyeing, but these are microwave and dishwasher safe (!!!!) and the absolute perfect size), mini cuisinart. We also have a Vitamix (which I am absolutely obsessed with) but I find the mini cuisinart is better for quickly pureeing small amounts of things whereas you need more volume to get a good puree with the Vitamix. I am envious of parents with those Beaba baby food steamer/pureer contraptions, but another kitchen appliance was not in the cards for us and the Cuisinart works just fine. One of my resolutions for this year was to be more intentional about what I was feeding my children, and a part of that has been pureeing basically everything we eat for micro (or cutting it into super small pieces if appropriate as finger food). The mini cuisinart removes basically any excuse you could come up with, as you can place all the parts in the dishwasher and it’s ready to go the next day. Also, these tiny tupperware are crucial.
+Bathing: Currently using this Boon tub (love love love — does not mold, has a drain at the bottom, and configures for a variety of different sized babies) but anxiously awaiting the day I can put both kids in the bath at the same time. Growing up, my mom had this little ring with legs that had suction cups on the bottom and she’d put the littlest one in there with the rest of us in the bath — do they not make these anymore? Are they considered unsafe? The only thing similar I could find was this, which is intimidatingly clunky and hardware-riddled (but does get good reviews). This is more similar to what my mom used but very anxious about the fact that none of the bigtime brands seem to make something like this and it only has three stars and no reviews…moms: please advise. Beyond that, I still love Mustela for hair and body, these itty bitty wash cloths (the perfect size), these boats and squeeze toys, this rinser, and these hooded towels from Nordstrom (similar to PBK’s but those are way too small!!! you need more fabric to wrap the baby in!).
+Essie’s Pre-Show Jitters is one of my all-time favorite nail colors. It’s an opaque pink with a lot of white in it. LOVE. I pretty much alternate between this and Really Red.
+I’ve been wearing a lot of simple crewneck tees with distressed denim and fun shoes the last week. Love this one in the pale blue.
+Are these not the most fun everyday knives? Great gift for a college grad heading into her first apartment. Also nice to have non-precious knives that can be thrown in the dishwasher…
I couldn’t resist this ice blue, puff-sleeved jacquard mini (seen above on my Blake dresser!). For $120, it delivers a couture (Cecilie Bahnsen) vibe and I am beyond in love with that color! I am planning to wear it to mini’s birthday party (this is the theme) in a month along with these earrings, which I own in blue. The question is what heel to wear. I’ve been eyeing these but I think that might be too much blue in one dose.
+My daily glycolic acid wipes. I’m super impressed with these so far. Will wait to write a full report until I’ve been using them for a full month but my early review is very positive.
One of the many things I love about my husband is that he gets that presentation matters. In my experience, this is rather rare in men, many of whom would report noticing no difference between tossing a few bags of chips on a coffee table versus presenting them in pretty serving bowls with Caspari cocktail napkins. Mr. Magpie, on the other hand, is highly particular about things like plating, food presentation, and apartment styling. Do not under any circumstances feed him pasta in a bowl — pasta belongs on plates, per HRH Oretta Zanini de Vita, bolognese queen. (I’ve written about her much-loved pasta cookbook Sauces and Shapes countless times on this blog, but not only are the recipes bomb — her crotchety commentary tickles me. One of her bugaboos is pasta plating, something Mr. Magpie bought into hook, line, and sinker.) If I move our plant from the coffee table to the console in order to make room for mini’s breakfast, there’s a 90% chance I will find it restored to its rightful home before I have a chance to do it myself. He has an eye for these things; they matter to him.
While I was battling the flu and Mr. Magpie was dexterously managing the roles of Mom, Dad, nurse, and short order cook, he decided one night to make himself a few (well-deserved) cocktails once the babies were down. I remember lumbering out of my sick bed to the living room and noticing a highball finished with a sprig of mint. There was something about that garnish that killed me — the idea that even when drinking alone, he would take the time to garnish his cocktail, comme il faut.
This is one of the many things Mr. Magpie has taught me. In years past, I have been wont to pour a bowl of cereal and eat it while standing at the kitchen counter, or dig into a take away salad right out of the clamshell. Mr. Magpie has led by example and I now (more often than not) take the extra minute or two to transfer my takeaway sandwich to a plate, add a napkin, pour my drink into a glass, and sit at the table and enjoy it. It’s not so much a question of propriety as it is a factor of enjoyment: I have found that I am much more intentional and relaxed when I sit down to a proper meal on proper plates.
And so I knew what was happening with that mint spring: he was taking the time to enjoy the drink, even when entirely on his own, even when no one but him would notice.
Test it out and let me know what you think this week — consider adding a lemon wheel to your water or sitting down at the dining room table with a cloth napkin even when dining solo. It’s a small but noticeable form of self-care.
Post-Scripts: A Pretty Top.
+This is an easy way to look fashion-forward. It reminds me a bit of this Aje dress I’ve been eyeing. Love!
+These pants are perfect for spring getaways / summer breaks! They would be cute pulled on over a bathing suit or worn with a tee and Supergas for coffee runs. Ordering.
+This also looks super comfortable and chic for summer lounging — especially with a bump.
Did you know that Mr. Magpie drove a boxy black Jeep Cherokee (not the Grand — the O.G., whose style I still love; why don’t they bring that back?!) that he nicknamed “Party Girl”? She was a rough and tumble kind of ride. To accelerate, you actually had to depress the pedal almost all the way to the metal, golf-cart-style, and you could feel every bump and divot in the road. The interior felt like the inside of a tin can — no frills, always cool, with a kind of reverberating emptiness to it. It was not, in any case, a gracious ride.
But I loved Party Girl–so much so that I cried when Mr. Magpie sold her just before we moved to Chicago. We reasoned (correctly) that we did not need two cars, and Party Girl was getting old and rather mouthy anyhow.
But Party Girl was a part of Mr. Magpie’s mystique when I first met and fell in love with him. She was his perfect complement. It was almost as if Mattel had designed Mr. Magpie and, duh, Party Girl was his obvious whip. There was something outdoorsy and sporty about her — especially with the ski rack he affixed to the roof — and yet the absurd stereo and subwoofers he’d added to the interior let you know he liked his music, and he liked it loud, and Party Girl was there to bring it. She wasn’t as self-aware and bro-tastic as a roofless Wrangler, or as distasteful and flashy as a Hummer, or as showy and glossy as a luxury SUV — all cars frat brothers parked on Rugby Road –but it felt like she might be loose and accidental friends with them, like she could hang with them if she wanted, but she was too busy going offroading and listening to Van Morrison.
This all tracked with a young Mr. Magpie, who was a “GDI” in UVA Greek terms: a God Damn Independent. He rushed and was well-liked and received a bid but did not pledge anywhere. “It wasn’t for me,” he shrugged. And that was that. His indifference on this matter was as appealing then as it is now: he was his own person, even at 20, when most of us are engrossed in the meticulous construction and presentation of our fluid and uncertain selves so as to fit in and make friends.
He was him, though, a tall drink of water who shopped at the Harris Teeter at 10:30 p.m. on Monday nights, buying Rao’s tomato sauce in duplicate when on sale and full-fat yogurt and cases of Heineken and, one evening, a six pack of Mike’s Hard Lemonade for yours truly. I remember him careening up the access road to New Dorms, where all the dorks (including myself) lived, the bass reverberating through the brick of the hideous motel-style dorm building (Maupin, in case you care), and I stood on the second floor watching him in the dark, under the beam of floodlights, absolutely thrilled with myself for inveigling him into buying me booze and bringing it to straight to my dorm room for all of my suitemates to see.
Oh, but oh! I will never forget how handsome he was. How I felt a shiver of excitement thinking that he was parking his car and ascending the stairs for me, that someone on my hall might possibly assume him to be mine, that he might — I could hardly let myself believe it — be interested in me? This little brunette in Maupin — me?! An academically-minded girl who had never had an actual boyfriend? Who had not too long ago been riddled with braces and acne and that unkind fleshiness of pubescence? Who had just recently discovered how to blow dry her long hair stick straight and wear too-short denim skirts and too-tight, padded spaghetti strap tanks and platform flip-flops in what I can only describe as an homage to Jennifer Love Hewitt? Who still liked to bake cupcakes and lick the frosting right out of the can and watch movies with girlfriends on the weekends? Me? When he had the entirety of UVA, including classes older than mine? When he was just about the most beautiful person I’d ever seen in real life, with his golden hair and straight teeth and strong nose and broad shoulders and tanned arms and —
He smiled broadly at me, a brown paper bag extended toward me.
I remember trying to stall him, desperately wanting to keep him close to me. But it was late on a Monday and he had engineering classes that started at 8 a.m. on Tuesdays and Party Girl was illegally parked, and as I watched him stroll back to his car, I thought my heart was going to beat out of my chest. I wanted someone in my suite to comment on him. I was already devising what I might write to him over instant message. I wondered how I could con him into seeing me again soon. As he was climbing into his Jeep, he paused, leaning his forearms on the top of the door, and looked up at me. He stood there for a half second, then smiled and did a funny little wave salute before disappearing inside the car, the bass kicking back in, the engine revving.
I always wondered at that hesitation, a half-pause that left me electric with possibilities. Was he going to say something romantic? Or practical? Or saucy? Was he debating an invitation to his place?
But that’s Mr. Magpie, through and through — then and now. Always a hint of the unknown and unexpected. Like Party Girl, herself a kind of rogue sporty-but-not presence parked for a few minutes one Monday night outside of my dorm, his foil and ferry.
I actually sat down to share some party decor/supply ideas (I’ve received a few questions along these lines recently) and the foregoing just tumbled out. And so I’m sitting here in a deep haze of nostalgia, half-inclined to jump on the 1 train to surprise him at lunch. But I’ll leave some party supply ideas for ya nonetheless. Below, some of my favorite accoutrements for throwing a party at home…
Easter isn’t for two months, but I’ve already had a few fellow anticipators reach out for suggestions on celebration gear and wardrobe for the occasion (and, as I answered here, chic invitations!). Below, thought I’d share a few finds for self, child, and home…
I received a few requests for an updated “day in the life” post when I solicited my last round of Magpie Mail questions and I kept wanting to write one and then thinking, “Nah, today is too weird — I’ll record a more normal day later this week.” Then it dawned on me that my day-to-day right now boasts a lot of irregularities and so I decided to just pick a day and write. The head picture in this post gave me a bit of a laugh as I was looking for a good depiction of what my life looks like and the aforementioned couldn’t be further from the truth. I never wear heels during the day, the bag contains about 1/20th of what I’m toting, and that woman appears to be walking at a leisurely gait whereas mine is permanently closer to an awkward sprint. But it made me pause and think, “wouldn’t it be nice…”
5:49 a.m. Hill wakes. I lay with my eyes closed willing him to go back to sleep but knowing he will not. I woke myself about twenty times last night with coughing spells and I am tired. I am getting over what I presume to be the flu, but the cough has distressed me enough that I have made an appointment later today at the doctor. I wait a minute too long in that nether-world between awake and asleep, as he has begun to properly fuss as I fumble out of bed.
5:54 a.m. I turn on the lights in the kitchen and living room with my iPhone (almost all of the lights in our home are Hue bulbs) as I walk to the kitchen to make him a bottle.
5:55 a.m. I greet Hill, who is at this point not interested in my sing-song. Just feed me, mama! I change his diaper and bring him with me to the living room, where he feeds himself his bottle (aha! turning point in motherhood!) and I check my emails and skim Instagram. I cough a lot and then Purell my hands.
6:03 a.m. Hill is now in a fantastic mood. I set out his RR quilt with some (quiet-ish) toys — these are currently and rather curiously a big hit with him — and sit down on the ground as he rolls and slobbers and kicks his legs violently, something he does when happy. I read him Peek-A-Who, which both of my children have gone gaga over.
6:13 a.m. Every morning, Hill spends a good parcel of time putting the balls into and out of this and marveling over the engineering of the drawstring attached to the front of the truck. (Sound switched off at this hour…) These two activities never bore him. Once he’s engaged, I respond to a few emails, add one or two items to my STP (Shoop Talking Points) roster, evaluate the route I will take to get Emory to her doctor’s appointment and then to her school this morning, and hunt for this damned Proper Peony birthday candle dress that appears to be sold out everywhere in her size but that I am dying to purchase for mini’s third birthday in a month.
6:41 a.m. I place Hill in his crib with a few toys and then switch on the TV in the kitchen to turn on CBS news. Hill’s bedroom is just off the kitchen (the “maid’s room” in a classic Manhattan 6-style apartment), so it’s easy for me to keep an eye/ear out when I’m buzzing around. I empty the dishwasher while making oatmeal on the stovetop. I prefer overnight oats but Instacart delivered the wrong kind of oats so here we are. I slice bananas and walnuts and then rinse and halve some berries. I top three bowls of oatmeal with milk, brown sugar, raisins, bananas, walnuts, and a little cinnamon sugar on top. Then I assemble a large tray with everyone’s food and drinks (orange juice for Mr. Magpie, milk for mini) and carry it out to the living room. One day we will migrate breakfast to the dining table…
7:06 a.m. At this point, Hill is bored and fussy and I can hear Emory calling my name from her room. I place Hill in his “office” with a loud, flashy toy and run into Emory’s room.
7:07 a.m. “Good morning, ladybug!” I announce as I enter her room. “Go away,” she replies. Ah, typical toddler cheer. After some cajoling, I retrieve her from her crib, change her into underwear, and sit her down at the living room coffee table (she has a small stool she likes to sit on). We let her watch an episode of Daniel the Tiger or Sesame Street in the morning while she eats breakfast. This morning, it’s Sesame Street.
7:09 a.m. I brush and tie Emory’s hair and then place Hill in his Ingenuity seat on the floor. I feed him a Once Upon a Farm smoothie and some berries in a pulp feeder in between bites of oatmeal for myself. I can hear Mr. Magpie finishing up his shower and dress routine in the other room.
7:13 a.m. “Good morning, lovebug!” Mr. Magpie greets mini. “S is the letter of the day,” she replies. A noticeable improvement on the greeting I received. He sits on the couch and eats his breakfast while we exchange conversation about why Hill insists on waking at 5:45 a.m. (we need black out shades, we decide) and the schedule for the day.
7:34 a.m. I cross paths with Mr. Magpie in the bathroom as he brushes his teeth and I finish with a spritz of perfume. We talk about something but in all honesty I can’t recall what.
7:35 a.m. I transfer Hill to his 4Moms swing, which he has basically outgrown. These mornings are like musical chairs for him, as I stow him somewhere safe for as long as I can until he needs me because there is so much to do. I sprint into the kitchen to assemble mini’s lunch, grumbling that I wish I’d done this last night. I make her a sunbutter and Bonne Maman jam sandwich (her favorite), slice an apple, and add some freeze-dried fruit and mini pretzels, then fill her water bottle and pack it all in her lunchbox, which in turn goes into her backpack, which I then hang on the back of her umbrella stroller. She’s just gotten over the flu and so for a week she ate virtually nothing — accordingly, I’ve been giving her all her favorites until she’s fully bounced back.
7:43 a.m. I anxiously text our nanny to confirm she’s remembered that she needs to come in early today, as I am taking Emory to a doctor appointment. For an agonizing sixty seconds, I begin to mentally configure how to get everything done if she can’t arrive — I guess I’ll just put Hill in the carrier, and…She confirms. Phew.
7:44 a.m. Sesame Street has ended and mini has surreptitiously availed herself of HBO’s habit of starting the following episode immediately without alerting me. I turn it off, much to her displeasure, and give her a warning that we are getting dressed “in two minutes.” (Everything is two minutes away in this house.) I run into her room, quickly “make” her crib (fold her quilt and treasured shabby receiving blanket at the foot of her bed, fluff her pillow, arrange her two favorite stuffed animals. I then idle in her dresser and check the weather (Siri informs me it’s going to be 56 degrees today?!) before picking out a Sal e Pimenta plaid kilt jumper and a coordinating ric-rac trim peter pan collar blouse with white tights. Mr. Magpie leaves to walk the dog.
7:55 a.m. I black out while attempting to dress my writhing toddler. It is so, so exhausting. About half of the mornings each week, she puts up a huge fight. The other half, she’s highly amenable. During those amenable mornings, I’m always tiptoeing around on eggshells with my eyes wide as saucers, reminding myself: “Be cool, be cool, pretend this is totally normal.” This morning, I’m not sure what is said or done, but at the end of that ten minute period, she is dressed, though her hair is now wildly askew.
8 a.m. Normally, this is when Mr. Magpie is leaving to take mini to school; today things are wonky because I am taking her to the doctor, and so he’s now returning with Tilly. He pours her food and then disappears to make my coffee. I follow him in ferrying a tray of dirty dishes. We exchange knowing glances over The Incident of Dressing the Toddler.
8:04 a.m. Hill has HAD.IT. with the 4moms, but I am putting together my Goyard bag — adding mini’s pouch to it, putting her backpack in it, adding a sticker book in case the doctor’s office runs long. I sprint around assembling it all and then put it in the stroller.
8:08 a.m. I retrieve Hill and sit down on the couch with him. Mr. Magpie deposits my coffee on the side table — blessed nectar — and waves goodbye to everyone.
8:10 a.m. Mini emerges from her room as if nothing transpired ten minutes ago, holding an alphabet puzzle. We do it together — or rather, I comment and encourage from the couch.
8:25 a.m. I take mini to use the toilet and then let her know we will be leaving “in two minutes.”
8:30 a.m. Our nanny arrives and I pass Hill off to her, along with a couple of verbal notes about when and what he ate, when he’ll need to sleep, and the like.
8:31 a.m. I lay out mini’s coat and shoes and she puts them on. Occasionally this can be another battleground, but she complies, likely because I am telling her “just mommy and Emu today.” I slip into my Barbour coat (mild weather today), fold up the stroller, and sling it over my shoulder.
8:34 a.m. We leave the apartment and call an Uber over to the Eastside, where mini’s appointment is. This doctor runs notoriously late but at our last visit, I managed to sweet-talk the front desk coordinator into giving me her cellphone number and seemed to have unlocked the gate to Narnia, as she also let me know the doctor had a secret uptown location where things tended to run more on schedule. I am still highly leery, because I have waited up to two hours (!) for this doctor in visits past. Mini is exceptionally sweet and curious in the Uber. She loves the two tunnels we go under on the 86th street transverse — “woah,” she comments both times, with a slow smile crossing her face.
9:02 a.m. As we cross the street, mini tells me she sees ducks in the road. I look around but have no idea what she’s talking about. “Oh, ducks?” is all I say. It’s only hours later, as I am writing this post, that I realize she is talking about Make Way for Ducklings, when the police officer escorts the ducks across the crosswalk, which does — to be fair — kind of look like the one we crossed this morning.
9:03 a.m. I check mini in for her 9:15 a.m. appointment. If you’re not on time, you’re late in the Shoop world. Etc.
9:17 a.m. I am so astounded to discover we are leaving the doctor two minutes after the appointment started (the doctor took us early!) that I call Mr. Magpie to brag as I place mini in her stroller to walk to the six train. It’s drizzling and I scowl at myself for only attending to the temperature in the forecast.
9:26 a.m. We jump on a 6 train downtown. Mini is preoccupied with the firefighter figurines she took as “prizes” in the doctor’s office and a kind woman offers up her seat so the trek down is surprisingly pleasant save for all of the face masks, which remind me constantly of the potential lurking presence of the coronavirus. I bathe in sanitizer.
9:51 a.m. Though I often have mini climb the subway steps herself, today I carry her, along with the stroller over my shoulder. I feel a strange pang of guilt for my frustration with her while trying to get her dressed this morning and remember, with a lurch in my stomach, when she was crying, “I am scared of the doctor!” She was not scared of the doctor for a long time; this is a new development and I am half-inclined to blame Daniel the Tiger, who has an entire episode dedicated to “not being afraid of the doctor.” I begin to wonder whether her refusal to get dressed has something to do with not wanting to do something later in the day. I kiss her and tell her I love her and insist (internally) that I can and will be better and gentler with her tomorrow morning. I drop mini off at school, which does not go particularly well — I think she is thrown off by the change in routine today. But I kiss her and the teacher peels her off of me nonetheless.
9:52 a.m. I apply more sanitizer thanks to a large sign on the front of mini’s school’s door: There is a nasty stomach virus going around. Just what we need…
9:54 a.m. I make a last minute decision to run into Eataly to pick up dinner for tonight. We are usually good about planning ahead but with all the sickness in our household the past week, meal planning went out the window. I walk in thinking salmon, but they’re out of wild salmon, and we stay away from the farmed stuff. I pick (wild) red snapper after quickly googling an Ina Recipe for fish with mustard sauce. The haricots verts look good even though it’s not really their season, so I pick up some of those, some fingerling potatoes (so I can make J. Kenji Lopez-Alt’s outrageously good garlic and parmesan potato dish), and two small heads of romaine along with the creme freche and shallot called for in the Ina recipe. Oh, and a comice pear for Hill. In the checkout line, I text my sister for a few minutes.
10:06 a.m. I jump on the 1 train home, posting a picture to Instagram for my blog post and responding to a few emails and texts when I have intermittent service.
10:31 a.m. I catch up with our nanny on what Hill has been up to — he’s asleep now. I empty the groceries, leaving the beans and salad to soak in cold water on the counter. I make myself tea.
10:35 a.m. I call my mom, who has been texting to see how I’m feeling as I make the bed. Normally, making the bed is a must do before I leave the house but it was too crazy today. We shoot the breeze and I tell her how much I like mini’s doctor.
10:41 a.m. I’ve moved myself so much in my conversation with my mom, I sit down and write the doctor a thank you note. It’s not everyday you find a doctor with such an exceptional bedside manner. Then I dig into my STP action items from last night and my to dos on my planner — RSVP to a few events, order a birthday gift, change a doctor’s appointment, request dental records for mini’s new uptown dentist, call a random boutique that seems to have that Proper Peony dress online but won’t let me purchase it online, etc.
11:02 a.m. I dial in to write a post on my blog.
11:13 a.m. Our nanny is leaving to take Hill to a story time, so I run out to see him off. On the way back to my desk, I add a few items to a pending Instacart order.
11:45 a.m. I order a Sweetgreen salad for lunch. I normally make lunch at home but I had burgers for dinner the last two nights (!) because Mr. Magpie made the burger mix HIMSELF following Sean Brock’s recipe and they were outrageous — and I need something green, and fast. I order the kale caesar.
12:15 p.m. Lunch arrives. I continue to write while eating.
1:15 p.m. Done with the post. I take Tilly for a walk while talking to my Dad on the phone. While I’m out, our nanny brings Hill back. I coo over him for a few minutes in the living room and chat with our nanny.
1:36 p.m. I make the mustard sauce for the fish and parboil the potatoes while drinking a second cup of tea.
2:01 p.m. This is going to sound weird, but my babysitter arrives. I am supposed to go to the doctor to get this cough checked out and our nanny needs to leave at 2:15 to pick up Emory from school. Normally I stay home with Hill, but today I’d need to take him to the doctor with me smack dab in the middle of his afternoon nap, so — I arranged to have our sitter come instead. I make introductions and explain the situation and they do a hand-off.
2:05 p.m. I retreat to my room to answer comments and emails and get distracted by writing a second post, which is never a good idea when I have a hard stop looming.
2:37 p.m. I pry myself away from the computer to leave for the doctor, checking in with our sitter on the way out.
2:55 p.m. I make it to the doctor attempting to touch nothing in the office. Coronavirus signs abound.
3:00 p.m. My nanny texts me to let me know mini is refusing to leave the classroom today. I know this is because she is totally out of her regular routine — she was home all of last week sick; I took her to a doctor appointment today; etc. She is a creature of habit and all of these edits are throwing her for a loop. We exchange a few texts; she manages to get Emory into her stroller and on the way home. I daydream for a minute and then start drafting a snippet of a potential future blog post on my iPhone.
3:19 p.m. As expected, the cough is nothing and I am a huge hypochondriac. I had worked myself up into a tizzy thinking I had pneumonia. To be fair, it is a brutal and nasty cough and I’m sure I terrified half my car on the six train this morning. The doctor confirms I’ve been battling the flu and tells me to rest.
3:41 p.m. I text Mr. Magpie and my sister to let them know I don’t have pneumonia and call my mother to let her know the same.
3:42 p.m. To celebrate, I buy myself an iced oat latte from Joe’s coffee.
3:56 p.m. I walk into a boisterous scene. Emory has just returned home and has flung her coat and shoes around the living room and is gaily chatting with the sitter. Our nanny is preparing to leave (she works for another family in the evenings — such a hard worker, my God!), so I catch up briefly with her. I immediately tuck into mom mode, picking up mini’s discarded clothes and putting them away, unpacking her lunchbox and placing the items in the dishwasher while mentally applauding her for finishing most of it, refilling her water, then coming out to remind her to use the toilet. I refill Tilly’s water.
4:00 p.m. I am preparing to relieve the sitter when it dawns on me that maybe it would be nice to have an extra set of hands so I can finish getting dinner ready in relative peace. She agrees to stick around. I turn music on in the kitchen and get to work. The following two hours are a blur I couldn’t possibly narrate that involve a lot of clipped conversations with mini, cooing over Hill, poking my head out to reinforce what the sitter has said to mini, disciplining of the dog (who managed to eviscerate one of mini’s precious Maileg mice tonight), cooking, tidying, and cleaning, all while attempting to have a text conversation with my other sister, whose children are also sick. Ugh!
5:45 p.m. I had hoped we’d all eat dinner together tonight, but Mr. Magpie’s not yet home, so I flake some of the fish for micro (we’ve just started finger foods!) and puree the green beans and potatoes with a little water using my new Vitamix for him. I supplement mini’s dinner plate with some white rice leftover from the other day. I sit down to feed the children. Again, I intend to relieve the sitter, but mini is thoroughly distracted and I ask whether the sitter would mind giving her a bath as I finish feeding Hill.
6:00 p.m. Mr. Magpie comes home and the crowd goes wild.
6:11 p.m. I attempt to peek in on the bath situation and realize it needs to be expedited. I urge mini to let the sitter wash her hair and then get out of the way. Mr. Magpie hangs with Hill in the living room and I just love the way he talks to him. I pick up the dining room, which has amassed an odd collection of items — burp cloth, crayons and paper, two little figurines from mini’s doctor visit, mini’s socks, Tilly’s chew toy, an empty baggy? I clean fish flakes out of Hill’s high chair. I tidy the kitchen a bit.
6:30 p.m. I return to supervise mini’s bath, which is taking a very long time. This is normally mini’s bedtime but things are all haywire today. I pass the baton to Mr. Magpie and put Hill down — change him into jammies, say his prayers, read him his book, and give him his bottle.
6:41 p.m. I relieve the sitter and tap in. Mini is exhausted and the entire process is taking a very long time. We brush teeth, say prayers, read a book, and say good night while Mr. Magpie walks Tilly.
6:51 p.m. I prepare plates for Mr. Magpie and I, and we reconvene in the living room. I would love a glass of wine but am still getting over the flu, so he enjoys one on my behalf. We go through the STPs for the day and generally commiserate over what a weird day it’s been. We often watch something during this hour, but tonight, we just sit and talk, idling over our plates.
7:40 p.m. I clear the plates and clean the kitchen while listening to the news and then bring Mr. Magpie an ice cream sandwich and a glass of water.
8:03 p.m. I shower. I want to wash all the germs of the day off.
8:37 p.m. Hill is awake…! This is earlier than usual. He often wakes for one final feed at 10 p.m. I am aware that he probably does not need this last bottle and that my pediatrician has encouraged me to let him “cry it out” for this one, but I’ve never used that method and prefer it this way. I change his diaper and soothe him but it is obvious he’s expecting his nightcap. I feed him, saying Hail Mary into the dark of his room. I often find myself praying the Rosary while feeding him. Tonight, I pray that I am a more patient mother tomorrow.
8:50 p.m. I reward myself with an ice cream sandwich.
8:51 p.m. I sit down to finish some work on my blog and answer some emails.
9:23 p.m. Mr. Magpie comes into the room to let me know he’s finished another episode of Succession and that he is enjoying it but hates the character Tom. We tumble in and out of conversation while I finish up at my desk and he prepares for bed.
9:31 p.m. I blow dry my hair with my magical Revlon one-step. I do not feel like doing this right now, but we have dinner plans tomorrow night and I want to look nice and it’s one of my new year’s resolutions to do my hair every day. I’ve not yet failed on that front — even while battling the flu this past week. While doing my hair, I make three mental edits to the post scheduled for tomorrow.
9:38 p.m. I brush my teeth, change into my pajamas, and make the edits to my blog post.
9:44 p.m. I climb into bed, Venmo the sitter, and text my sister one final time. Mr. Magpie has The Office on and it’s lights out for me.
+I can almost never say no to a classic wrap dress like this — they NEVER go out of style and I know I’ll be wearing it into my 80s. I love a bright red color like this one too!
+This is the kind of dress that will get a lot of wear over the summer. Could be paired with espadrilles for a casual weekend adventure or with heels for a night out or leather sandals for Church.
+These in the heart print are another good option for Valentine’s Day if you’re running behind but still want some themed jams for the occasion. (More picks here.)
…could go on for a long while. Resort wear is my favorite!!!
Q: What are your favorite boy names that you didn’t use?
A: All family names — we have so many good ones in our families, including last and middle names, which I would probably have used as a first name: Abell, Shepherdson, O’Callaghan, Powell, Smith. There were also a lot of Charleses and Thomases and I love both of those — so sturdy and elegant. My grandfather was a first-generation immigrant from Finland and his name was Aser — I always thought it was the coolest, though I did worry people would assume I meant it like “acer” rather than the traditional Finnish name it was.
Q: Do you and Mr. Magpie have a five-year or ten-year plan?
A: Not formally written down anywhere, but we often talk in broad brush strokes about where we’d like to be professionally and lifestyle-wise — usually three years out from where we are. Three years feels close enough that goals are actionable, but far enough out that there’s time to be strategic.
Q: I’m looking for a better way to store scarves/accessories. Do you have any tips or have you seen any systems that might help?
A: I keep my silk scarves folded in squares, wrapped in tissue, laid flat in boxes. This seems to be the recommendation from Hermes, who I trust on all things silk scarf. A pretty lacquer box like this (or this set for less) would be a lovely way to stow them! I especially like the latter, less expensive set; you could use the bottom one to stow your scarves and the top one to stow chunky jewelry or gloves or something else. If you’re talking non-silk scarves, this looks handy for keeping things accessible and organized.
Q: Trying to find a chandelier or pendant for my two year old son’s room — mostly blue and white. Help!
A: I hear you — it feels like there are a lot more options for girl nurseries (ahem, have always loved this). A couple of lighting options I like:
SOMETHING WOVEN/WICKER LIKE THIS (LOOK FOR LESS WITH THIS) OR THIS
See below for some professionally designed rooms featuring styles similar to the ones above:
(DRUM STYLE)
(PENTAGON PRISM STYLE)
(MODERN SPUTNIK STYLE)
(WOVEN/WICKER STYLE)
Finally, can’t find a pictures of them in a nursery, but I love this and think it could work for a boy’s room and have also long loved these unusually-shaped/textured lights. I’ve seen them used in kitchens over counters but think this could work well in a small boy’s nursery.
Q: Any favorite mother-daughter items for you and mini?
A: I find myself doing very little direct matching — her first summer, I bought us matching Lilly Pulitzer dresses and I couldn’t decide if it was cute or insane — ha! — so I’ve pumped the breaks on that a little. Maybe it was because I was still easing into owning my own motherhood? She does own this inexpensive dupe of my Lele Sadoughi headband and sometimes I can convince her to wear it when I’m wearing mine, and I also will fairly regularly buy matching pajamas with her (I own these and these in my size and she has them in hers, for example). I tend to coordinate our outfits instead. Sometimes it drives Mr. Magpie crazy when he realizes I’ve lowkey managed to hustle us out the door in head-to-toe coordinated blue and white outfits…Von Trapp Family?
That said, I have been eyeing this Lali dress (comes in a coordinating style for a little one) for the beach this summer…
Q: Spring break outfits that are nursing-friendly please!
A: Cannot rave about the Sleeper Brigitte dress enough (currently marked way down to $104 — run, don’t walk; also available in a midi-length, which I own, for full price here). So chic and comfortable and a dream for breast-feeding. Several of the styles I listed above in response to the first question would also work — this could pull down, and this has buttons. I also love this breezy cover-up, which could go over a one-piece and be amenable to nursing without a problem. If you’re not a dress gal, white jeans and Ralph oxfords always look put-together and classic (and the oxfords are convenient for nursing).
Q: Tips and tricks to look put together daily and feel good? I had my baby a year ago and still feel frumpy and ugly.
A: AHHH! I wanted to cry when I read this. You are not frumpy and ugly! You just had a baby!!! You deserve a lot of grace during this enormous transition. That said, a few thoughts…
1 // Carve out time to blow out your hair. I was so put off by this thought that I didn’t really consistently deal with my hair until January of this year. HA! But now I’m totally on board and I have to say — it makes me feel a million times more polished and on-my-game. I feel like even my clothes and makeup look better with really nicely done hair. And I am obsessed with my new Revlon one-step dryer/volumizing tool to achieve it. I let my hair air dry for 30 minutes and then it takes maybe 5-6 minutes to get a salon-quality blowout. Full review here and more of my favorite hair products here.
2 // Lipstick! Lipstick works wonders. Try a bright and cheery pink (or red, if you dare) to distract from tired eyes and dull skin. I love this in the baby color — it’s a bright, flattering peony pink and it glides on like lip balm — and Nars Roman Holiday when I want to feel super feminine (it comes out paler on the lip).
3 // Work out a daily uniform that feels both comfortable and exciting to wear. This varies for me over the course of a year. Right now, I’m leaning heavy into Kule tees, black high-rise skinnies, and GG sneaks, and I always feel “together” wearing this uniform even though it takes zero time to coordinate. In seasons past, I’ve worn lots of RL oxfords with dark-wash skinnies or white jeans with chunky sweaters.
4 // Buy yourself a new pair of shoes. Fun, splashy flats absolutely transformed the final trimesters of both pregnancies for me, because no matter how I felt (especially when wearing the same two or three outfits for an infinity days in a row), I could look down and see those fun shoes and they always fit. The same applies for uninspired patches of non-pregnant life. Shoes I am currently lusting after: these needlepointed beauties, these camo Rothys, these Ganni boots, these Chanel flats.
Q: How did you switch from bottle to straw cups? Having an impossible time here.
A: Oh yes – I remember that period! I swear by these Nuk “soft spout” sippy cups. They worked for us and have worked for countless other moms I know. The spout is similar enough to a bottle that it’s kind of like a sippy cup with training wheels — but once mini got used to the Nuk, I found it was easy to swap in almost any other style (including straw styles) without her flinching. That said, she’s always favored the Nuk (possibly because of the fun character designs on the side) and we only recently started presenting her with proper drinking tumblers. Our pediatrician was laissez-faire about when to transition from bottles to sippy cups to proper cups, so we were too, and I never stressed much about it. Give yourself time! It will happen with consistent prodding 🙂
Q: Any advice for time management? Both with and without kids — as an entrepreneur?
A: Sit down, clearly identify your priorities, and list them somewhere accessible, whether that’s a post-it stuck to your computer, a whiteboard, a note on your laptop. Then ruthlessly automate, offload, or otherwise dispose of as much as you can to make space for the stuff that matters. This was tough for me as an entrepreneur with a zero inbox mentality — I found it challenging to get to the meaty, strategic work before noon (despite the fact that I have always been my freshest and most creative in the morning) because I was always distracted with pesky emails and housekeeping matters that were easy to tick off but ridiculously time-consuming. Ultimately, I had to get up early and tackle those small things before my “day” properly began and then literally carve out “maker time” by blocking it out on my calendar, i.e., from 9-11 AM: DO NOT DISTURB. FINISH SLIDE DECK. But over time (and by using this email hygiene tip), I have gotten better both in business and in my personal life with orienting my time around my priorities. I am learning to say no with a little less guilt.
Perhaps the harder part of this equation is priority-setting. Mr. Magpie is fantastic on this front — he is one of those people who can play checkers and chess at the same time and so he seems to have an intuitive grasp on what matters now and why, and what can wait until next quarter, our next round of funding, etc. If you are an entrepreneur in the tech start-up space, my only word of advice is to focus on building a workable minimum viable product to the exclusion of all else. It is really easy get swept up with what I call “the window dressing” of the start-up world, especially with marketing and social media and brand playing such big roles nowadays. But my personal experience was that if you can get a small cohort of passionate early adopters to use and like your product, then you can take that small success and fundraise around it. The likelihood that you will see insane adoption at an early stage through viral marketing of some sort is basically one out of a million. I think most funders would rather see impressive stats on use/stickiness among a specific (small) audience than an impressive number of downloads, which is essentially a vanity metric that means nothing. ACK. I could go on and on here, but the point is this: figure out what really, really matters and continue to return to that rubric any time you’re presented with an opportunity or contemplating a task. Will attending this networking event get me closer to releasing the MVP of my product? No? OK, pass. Mr. Magpie was always exceptionally disciplined on this front, and would often actually walk over to a white board and go down our “top three priorities” to see if a particular ask/activity aligned with any of them. If not, he’d drop it like a bad habit.
I am just now realizing that I have started doing the same thing on an informal basis with my new year’s resolutions. If I am thinking about doing something, I’ll contemplate it within the context of my goals and give a nod if it fits.
Q: Best places to get kids clothes that are basics, but a little jazzed up for 2T?
A: I like a lot of the cute but non-fussy picks here — mini wears a lot of these every weekday at school! I also regularly check out Janie and Jack for things like cute leggings, Zara for their knitwear (great sweaters at reasonable prices, like this), Ralph Lauren for polos/sweaters, H&M for layering tees and socks especially, Bellabliss for printed pants, and Gap for jeans.
Q: Sources for wedding readings??
A: I would think back to favorite books from childhood (might be worth re-skimming a few for great passages if none spring to mind readily) and favorite songs from your life together. I’ll never forget when my Dad read part of an Alan Jackson song (“Living on Love”) to my mother at the reception after their vow renewal — it was so surprising coming from him (an opera-loving lawyer!) but the words were beautiful and fresh.
We did not write our vows but if I had, I would probably have gone back through some of my favorite books in search of key passages that felt relevant to relationships, and then would also have reflected on some of the songs on the mixed CDs Mr. Magpie used to make for me. One of the songs was a cover of the Duprees’ “You Belong to Me” — I think it might have been by Carla Bruni? Super sweet…
A: I love all things Dixie Design — this or this are precious. I have also ordered several items from Kate Chambers and love her style. This could be customized for an Easter affair, or even this!
It turns out mini was battling the flu, and I caught it from her. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so sick — or, at least not for such a protracted period of time. I’m more accustomed to the three-day cold, where day two is wretched but you muscle it out. This flu is a nasty business and it seems to have nine lives. I’ve gone from an intense sore throat (to the point that it felt my throat was entirely constricted) and congestion to aches, chills, and sweats, to an upset stomach to a brutal cough — and the persistent headache that has accompanied it all is nothing short of demonic.
On the upside, I have not worn anything but moisturizer for the past five days (not even mascara — that shows you how sick I really am; I don’t think I’ve not worn mascara since I was maybe fourteen) and my skin has enjoyed the break. Similarly, my body has enjoyed an unplanned and unwilled detox: no wine and…well, basically no food, either, save for a scarce couple of spoonfuls of pasta or nibbles of toast and one truly random but delicious tuna fish sandwich from Daily Provisions which sounds like the absolute worst thing you’d want to eat while nauseous and overall unwell, but it was the only thing I wanted yesterday afternoon?
Possibly worse than feeling sick myself: observing my equally sick daughter who, thankfully, has now boomeranged back into health now that the flu has run its full seven-day course on her tiny little body, to the point that she has no qualms telling me to “go away” when I tuck in for a midday snuggle. The callousness of a toddler — it knows no depths. But there was a day or two where our ailments overlapped and though I was too foggy with headache and fever to truly appreciate it, I won’t soon forget the afternoon we spent in my bed, napping through our illnesses together, her feet pressed against my leg, her ruddy cheeks and dark lashes so angelic on the pillow next to mine.
Poor Mr. Magpie. It is a lot to run this house, but especially with multiple sick patients on a weekend with no help and no breaks in sight. He had a flukey bad Saturday full of irritating mixups and unfortunate incidents, including a full quart of oil spilling over onto our stovetop and kitchen floor, which — once cleaned (and if you’ve ever cleaned oil, you know what an incredible pain that process is) — spilled over again, missing ingredients for the dinner he’d generously planned for us, hour-long tantrums, a disgusting encounter on the subway while mini was in tow, and the like. At the end of the day, I implored him to sit and do something for himself: “What would make you happy?” I asked. “Well first,” he said, “Never get sick again. I need you too much.”
It is a gift to be needed. It has been exceedingly difficult to lay in the other room and feel physically unable to help — or, worse, to attempt to help but find myself radiating with exertion or febrile to the point of unable to hold my son.
At any rate, we are I think on the mend…? Below, a complete random smattering of things…
A FEW OF YOU SAW MY MONORAMMED TISSUE COVER ON INSASTORY AND ASKED AFTER IT — I BOUGHT IT HERE
HAVE BEEN LOOKING FOR NEW LAYERING TEES — TASTEMAKER JULIA AMORY SUGGESTED THESE AND I FOLLOWED SUIT
If you’ve been reading this blog for awhile, you will know that I have long been a devotee of Shiseido’s facial cotton and have used it for some time now, but I just reordered and thought I’d mention it here in case you’d missed my earlier posts about it. IT IS AMAZING! So much softer and gentler on skin, and much thicker and more absorbent, too. A small but noticeable upgrade to your skincare routine. I use it to remove makeup with Bioderma micellar water.
I have been laid up in bed, sick as a dog (I caught what Emory had), for the last two days and I have been more or less incapable of a full thought during that time, so I thought I’d cast out for some input: what are your favorite short stories? I love the form of short fiction — it puts pressure on writers to give shape to something in such a compressed amount of space — and I enjoy the experience of reading something to completion in one sitting. I’d like to read more of it. What do you think of the medium? What are your favorites?
This book started very strong, took some questionable twists and turns, and left me feeling intellectually challenged and emotionally shortchanged.
Let’s start with this: there is no question that Cusk is brilliant. Some of her achievements from a technique standpoint are nothing short of astounding — especially in her presentation of the narrator, a cool and removed and detached presence about whom, at the end of the day, we know very little. Hers is a kind of anti-narrator who seems to elicit and absorb the stories of all those around her (quite literally, when teaching a writing seminar, but also more informally, in her social relationships and happenstance encounters with strangers) and yet who seems reluctant or unwilling or unable to share her own. After all, at the book’s end, we know she has children but know very little about them or her relationship or devotion to them, we know she is divorced but know very little of the details, and we know she is a professor but know little beyond that except what we might piece together from he seemingly fast and loose academic technique during a seminar (which is, incidentally, volubly critiqued by one of its students — but even then, we know very little about how she received that criticism). At the end of the novel, I found myself reflecting on omission, suppression, silence: what’s said versus not in a novel, and by whom. It’s hard not to transfer this conversation into a gender studies realm, though there was not quite enough meat on the bone for me to form a complete thought there, as there seem to be many wounded birds in this novel, male and female alike.
Most of the novel reads placid, almost deadpan, in its delivery, but I had a creeping sense of doom as she alighted the boat with her “neighbor” and he accelerated recklessly and without warning. When he started playing with his pocket knife!? I was certain we were in for a sudden change-in-tack and steeled myself for violence. Nothing ensued, but it seemed to me deeply implicative of the kind of sudden eruptions of violence people endure — how even in spite of a very controlled, suppressive narrator, we can occasionally be shocked by the cruelty and inhumanity of a change in events. This is echoed later when another character talks about being assaulted and then being unable to control aspects of her life in the aftermath (specifically, eating — to me, a proxy for communications of other sorts). And so again I was left thinking about voice/silence, violence/intimacy, control/abandon. These all seem to be off a cloth for her.
At times, the book felt like an academic exercise — especially in the middle bits, where she is teaching her class and we swing from random story to random story and suddenly are wondering who is saying what and it all feels a bit like Russian nesting dolls, or a house of mirrors. Here we are, reading a fictional story within a fictional story by a fictional character being described by another fictional character. It’s an elaborate and showy gesture toward the destabilization of narrative that leaves you scrambling: what is a story? what is a narrator? what is a plot line? do we care, or why do we?
These kinds of interrogations exhaust and rankle. It feels like Roland Barthes, who famously said: “The author is dead!”, all over again and ehhh. I read for intellectual stimulation but more often than not want to have my cake and eat it, too — I want to enjoy the experience as much as I want to learn from it. So, the bits that were heavy-handed in their dismantling of narrative conventions left me short-tempered.
On the whole, though, I think this was an impressive book. Fresh and different — I’ve never read anything quite like it, especially in its presentation of the narrator — and Cusk is exceptionally elegant with language (sometimes overwrought, but I tend to favor a flourish anyhow).
I would give this book a four out of five stars.
What did you think? (Claire, will be waiting with bated breath for your input in particular.)
Post-Scripts.
+Currently reading The Essex Serpent by Sarah Perry. My SIL recommended it to me as “a modern Gothic” which — know I have written about a million times — is one of my absolute favorite “genres” or “modes” of writing.
+I shared this in my review post earlier this week, but I am taking a break from Neutrogena’s Hydro Boost because I think it is causing me to break out (others have reported the same reaction — sigh). I was originally going to go back to Belif’s Aquabomb BUT am instead going to try another highly-recommended French pharmacy moisturizer (thanks to many Magpies who suggested this brand!): Avene.
+As I mentioned in my apartment progress update earlier this week, we’ve officially become adults: we now own house plants. I’ve been on the hunt for chic indoor planters. Why does it feel like the vast majority of them are midcentury modern?! I’m eyeing this, this, or this.
+While looking for stylish indoor planters, I did come across this outdoor planter which reminded me of the ones we had in our old Chicago house. Sad!
+Own and love this marble-and-wood cheeseboard. Such a pretty way to display snacks — even when it’s not a cheese/meat plate! Dips with a scattering of crudite and crackers, or rows of diced fruit look just as elegant. It weighs a ton — you’ve been warned.
