By: Jen Shoop

*Photo above by Sarah Elliott for St. Frank; our Tilly is wearing a Foggy Dog x St. Frank bandana and collar.

Scarcely a day goes by when I am not stopped on one of my walks with Tilly —

“What kind of dog is that?”

“Is this one of those -poos?”

“Oh my gosh, your dog is so cute!”

Our Tilly (short for Tilden, the name of the street I grew up on in Northwest D.C.) is an Airedale terrier, a breed that was once incredibly popular — President Harding had one in the White House in the 1920s — but has since lost favor and is now fairly uncommon, especially in urban areas. Airedales are ratters by breeding, and therefore handy on farms, but given the density of rats here in NYC (sick), she’s honestly right at home in this urban jungle. Oh the hundreds of times I have nearly face-planted as she’s darted after a squirrel or mouse or rat in Central Park…

A few weeks ago, my friend Christina asked if Tilly would star in a photo-shoot for a collaboration between her home decor company, St. Frank, and stylish pet product brand, Foggy Dog, and I immediately said yes. (All pictures in this post from the shoot in chichi TriBeCa by the talented Sarah Elliott.) Bribing three dogs to pose in synchrony with one another required a lot of treats, but we managed it. As we took an Uber home (dogs are not permitted on the subway unless they are service animals), I tousled Tilly’s hair and realized, with some measure of maudliness, how much she has sacrificed in the introduction of two children into our home over the past two and a half years. She is the lowest on the totem pole in our little pod at the moment, and yet she somehow completes the tribe–and on trying days, when I can wrestle her into submitting to a hug (terrier moms know what I’m saying), she makes everything better.

For the first year of mini’s life, I routinely told friends that raising an Airedale was harder than raising a child. That might sound crazy, but if you’ve ever owned a terrier puppy, you know what I mean. They are high-spirited, stubborn, mischievous, smart, and energetic. They require constant supervision and discipline. I don’t think she stopped moving for the first two years of her life, and she destroyed about half of our belongings in that span. She had a particularly naughty (and, in retrospect, hilarious) tendency to trot over to the leg of an armchair or edge of a rug, shrill-barking for our attention, and then hover over it with her mouth open, moving her head back and forth tauntingly, as if to say: “Just dare me. Just dare me! I’ll do it!” (And she usually did.)

A few months ago, during one of those hairy afternoons with two young children, as Mr. Magpie and I were navigating meltdowns, accidents, spit-up, and tantrums in an exhausted haze, I looked over and saw Mr. Magpie plunk down on the floor and wrap his arms around Tilly while both babies were screaming at the top of their lungs.

“Oh, Tilly. My one constant,” he said into her neck.

We later laughed at how far we’ve come with Tills, once the source of so much stress and destruction, and now the easiest of our “children” to manage. I ate my own words: raising children, it turns out, is infinitely harder than rearing a dog. Tilly’s now nearly four years old and though she still has the energy of a puppy (I once asked a fellow airedale owner “When do they calm down?” and she laughed and returned, archly, “Oh — you can give up on that. The answer is never.”), she’s a sturdy, predictable, and reliable companion.

I often joke that Tilly tolerates me, but Mr. Magpie is her person. She lives for Mr. Magpie. That makes two of us, Tilly. She (almost always) responds to his commands and she (almost always) leaps into his arms and presses her furry face against his for a nightly snuggle. She goes ballistic when he comes home at night, tail wagging and feet high-stepping around like a show-horse. She usually reserves that prance for her walks home from the groomer, when she positively struts. She knows she looks good. If you think I’m crazy, just the other day, a woman stopped me in the elevator up to our apartment and said, “My goodness, she thinks she looks good, doesn’t she?” She was so right. When Tilly is well-groomed, she literally springs around, paws extended dramatically, head held high, like a dressage horse.

Tilly has a huge personality and is extraordinarily bright. Even though we have literally never fed her “human food,” she routinely saunters by the dining table to observe what might be accessible to her in a casual stroll and then, the minute a back is turned, POUNCES to snag a scoop of pasta or grab a roll out of the bread basket or — as happened recently — scarf down three cupcakes in one fell swoop. She becomes agitated when she sees our suitcases out and will often refuse to eat in silent, Ghandi-like protest when she senses change afoot. (When we moved from Chicago to New York, she did not eat for four days. With this most recent move, she was also extremely finnicky, only eating a couple of kibbles out of her bowl at mealtime.)

She likes to be “comfy-cozy,” as we call it in this house, and will curl up on any stray bit of fabric she can find if all of the chairs are occupied. She is surprisingly dextrous in the sense that she will leap into an armchair and somehow methodically kick off every single cushion until there is more than enough space for herself, and then let out a satisfied “humph” as she flops on top. She will also use her paws to swipe at food left on the counter, just out of reach. And there is nothing more startling than walking into the kitchen and seeing an Airedale at the counter, on her hind legs, nearly as tall as I am, as she attempts to treat herself to a mouthful of rice or spare crusts from mini’s lunch. She gives me no notice in her pursuit of an afternoon snack, and were she wearing an apron, I might just continue on my way past her — so humanlike are her dimensions and movements.

Toys are not long for this world in her powerful jaws. She is what you might call “an aggressive chewer.” She will destroy a tennis ball in two seconds flat and then waltz around the apartment with neon yellow fluff stuck in her teeth and affixed to her muzzle. Even toys marked for “heavy chewers” do not stand a chance in her determined grip. And so she normally only has one or two possessions at a time, which, incidentally, is fine, as she seems happiest throwing scraps of her own destroyed towel to herself or — as happened recently in the move — chasing after a balled-up piece of packer’s tape, which preoccupied her for the better part of a day. Landon and I joked that it was the saddest thing we’d ever seen, like children in the Depression era chasing hoops down a street with sticks — such a pathetic excuse for a toy. That’s our Tilly: a gal of simple pleasures.

Tilly was meant for us. She is a perfect mirror and extension of our family — somewhat high-maintenance, particular, and opinionated, and yet faithful, affectionate, spirited, and — dare I say it? — stylish. In the third trimester of my pregnancy, she used to curl up at my bedside every night — something new and different from her usual routine of sleeping in a mound of pillows in the corner of our bedroom (she destroyed her dog bed and so we are excited to buy her a new one in our new apartment). I was touched to tears by her fidelity and concern — and also, as a borderline hypochondriac, mildly convinced I was sick with something undiagnosed. Why else would she be paying me so much mind when Mr. Magpie is her One and Only? She would rouse each and every time I’d get up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night (which was a lot), looking over at me with what I anthropomorphized as sisterly solicitude.

Now, I did not grow up with dogs. And owning a dog in Manhattan is a true labor of love — it is expensive (boarding her sets us back $100/night — basically, more than I used to spend per night at the Cav Inn in Charlottesville, VA), time-consuming (there are no backyards to let her “do her business in”; she must be walked at least three times a day), and often annoying (Tilly barks at every Tom, Dick, and Harry that walks by our apartment door, and there are lots of Toms, Dicks, and Harrys given all of the deliveries and service technicians and so forth). And don’t get me started about the misery of a sick dog in a small New York apartment — or rainy days, full-stop. (Try toweling off a large, shaggy, writhing dog in your galley kitchen. Hell. More often than not, we end up with wet dog smell and paw prints in our living area.) Beyond that, given the tight quarters in which Manhattanites live, owning a dog — especially a big dog like Tilly — is a true sacrifice of personal space.

And yet.

The columnist Caroline Knapp once wrote: “Before you get a dog, you can’t quite imagine what living with one might be like; afterward, you can’t imagine living any other way.”

Just so.

When I boarded her the night before a recent trip, I was overwhelmed by the emptiness of our apartment without her large, lion-like figure loping around, and her bark punctuating my afternoon, and the eternal consideration that must be afforded her snooping, prying nose and seeming omnivorousness. (“Make sure to keep that bathroom door shut or she’ll tear through the trash!” “Keep her in the bedroom if groceries are on their way up or she’ll lose her mind at the door!”) She is so woven into the fabric of my existence, without her constantly underfoot, I felt as though I was constantly forgetting something. “What…was I supposed to be doing?” I’d wonder, and then realize I was just perplexed by the shock of her absence.

We love you, Tilly. All 55 pounds of your effervescent, occasionally emotionally withholding, independent, affectionate self.

You are ours and our lives are better for you.

Post Scripts.

+The best dog toys we have found: Fluff n Tuff plush toys tend to last a surprisingly long time, and somehow this snake has outlasted every other toy she’s ever owned. Kong toys are also pretty good, especially when we used to fill them with a mix of diced apple, kibbles, and water and then place the entire thing in the freezer, “sealed” at the top with a slick of peanut butter. We’d then let her work at getting the kibble/apples out in our backyard and it would keep her preoccupied for a good hour.

+We’ve used a dog shampoo that I actually can’t stand for a long time (it came in an industrial sized bottle and we tend to send her out to be bathed and groomed now that we live in NYC, so it’s lasted forever). Its smell gives me a headache. Might swap out for a fancier style because the scent tends to linger a long time on a dog. I’m eyeing this stuff from Aesop, whose scents I absolutely LOVE, and this bottle from Kiehl’s. Malin + Goetz also makes one that is compelling!

+Tilly’s dog bowls are an older version of this set from Target, and they are perfect. I like that they keep her bowls in place (versus being nosed around the kitchen) and don’t look absolutely hideous. I had really wanted this set, but am so glad I went for the bargain version because Tilly chewed on the corner of her wooden stand as a pup and I wasn’t as annoyed as I would have been had I dropped $100 on it.

+I of course love dog toys for my children — things like this lacing toy, vintage Steiff dogs (we have a few of these), and this dog mobile, which was in mini’s room and will soon make its way into micro’s!

+Love these personalized dog collars.

+I mentioned this recently in my post on inexpensive ways to personalize your home, but Mr. Magpie and I collect dog portraits and canine decor. I love these hooks, for example. Would be a great solution for hanging Tilly’s leash.

+More on life in New York.

+We use this lead for Tilly, but I think we’re due for a new one — I like this one by Foggy Dog.

+We also need a new dog bed for Tilly. Eyeing this, this, or this.

+Cutest ornament.

+Speaking of Christmas, of course Tilly has her own personalized stocking that matches ours. We fill it with raw-hides.

+Love ceramic whippet statues flanking a front door.

+I am a sucker for dresses with dogs smocked on the front. Eyeing this for mini. (Look for less with this.) I also occasionally score epic vintage finds on Etsy along these lines — just snagged this jumper for mini. And how insane is this?! The details!

+Still looking for Halloween gear (just around the corner)? Check out this post. I also wound up ordering these “glass slippers” to complete mini’s Cinderella costume and O.M.G. THE CUTEST. These ones from the same shop would be perfect for a Dorothy costume! And these spiders are SO fun and dramatic for decorating the house.

By: Jen Shoop

OK, you all know me well.  Maybe a little too well?  But below are some fun questions that I thought I’d answer that might add a little contour or color to the portrait you have of me (maybe the one who is empathic but occasionally fussy over unimportant things?) and – would you respond to all or several of them in the comments?  I want to know you, too.

Dream dinner guests (dead or alive).  Nora Ephron, Tina Fey, Gertrude Stein, Joan Didion, my sisters, and Mr. Magpie.

Pen or Pencil.  Pen, but only if with ultra-fine tip.

Go-to cocktail order.  Tom Collins with Hendricks gin.

Go-to coffee order.  Latte with oat milk, preferably from Blue Bottle.

First thing I do in the morning.  Gauge how urgently mini/micro need me and attempt to squeeze in one or two extra minutes of sleep.

Last thing I do at night.  Say a prayer and turn on the TV sleep timer.

Favorite vegetable.  Broccoli rabe.

Least favorite vegetable.  This will ruffle some feathers: asparagus.  I tolerate it.

Favorite fruit.  Mango. 

Least favorite fruit.  Orange.  Love it in cocktails, but would never sit down and peel an orange to eat.

Favorite time of day. Morning — always streaked with promise, and usually highly conducive to creativity.

Inspired by… People who can communicate an opinion without stepping on those of others.  People who are open-minded.  People who know themselves. 

Desert island book.  Circe.  It has everything: romance, motherhood, power struggles, character development, black magic, family drama, and – it is extraordinarily beautifully written. Much of it also takes place in exile, so I might relate to that tangent were I marooned on an island.

Favorite movie.  When Harry Met Sally, Sabrina (the new one with Harrison Ford – I know that’s a hot take, but it is perfect), As Good As It Gets (best script ever), Best in Show.

Biggest bugaboo.  Rudeness of any kind.

Daily uniform.  Don’t have one!  I dress for my mood.  But!  I shared my current favorites here.

Last Amazon order.  Paint, paintbrushes, and a smock so mini can paint a Halloween pumpkin, and also these barber shears because Mr. Magpie has been using my mini Revlon scissors to trim his beard.

Superpower.  I have incredible focus.  But if we’re talking a superpower I’d like – time travel.  Not so much to go back/forth in history but so that I could pop down to D.C. to see my mom whenever I’d like to without the hassle of traveling.

Mantra.  One step at a time.  When I’m frenzied: Focus on me, not on the storm.  When I’m playing the dangerous game of comparing myself to other moms: good for you, not for me (filched from Amy Poehler).  When I’m losing patience as a mother: “power through with love” (quote from a Magpie reader). With regards to everything else, the potentially apocryphal quote attributed to Michael Jordan: “you miss 100% of the shots you don’t make.” (In other words, just do the thing. Try.)

Proudest achievement. My marriage with my husband. Achievement’s not the right word, but — it’s what I’m most proud of in this life, followed immediately after by my children. On a more tangible note, I’m deeply proud of a 20 minute “Ted-talk” I gave in front of 400 people back when I was Chief Innovation Officer at a start-up non-profit focused on improving the financial wellness of low-income youth in Chicago. I was scared to death, but I worked with a speech coach to design a killer presentation. Just two days before I was set to deliver it, I suffered a tremendous personal loss and was sick with grief. I didn’t know if I’d be able to pony up the strength to give the talk I needed to give. But I walked out on that stage and nailed it. Mr. Magpie was in the audience and had a hard time keeping it together when I saw him just after — that’s how I knew I’d done a good job.

Guilty pleasure. Weekly manicures and gummy candy.

What I wish I could tell myself ten years ago. Hang on to your hat. And also: God is good.

What I wish I could tell myself twenty years ago. Travel, explore, tinker. Have faith. Also, wear a bikini as often as possible. Your body will never look this good again.

Happy place. Aspen, Colorado.

Go-to Chinese order. Dan-dan noodles and dry pepper style chicken.

Favorite quote. Far too many. But I have been returning lately to this quote from Teddy Roosevelt after hearing an excerpt of it in the Brene Brown special a couple months back:

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”

Please, Magpies, pick one or several or all of the questions above and share your responses! I’m especially curious to hear about your mantras.

Post Scripts.

+Dream school pick-up look: this cardigan, these jeans, and these flats.

+This elegant Gucci scarf is on my wishlist for fall.

+Just bought this.

+Another great snakeskin boot option (under $200).

+It’s been a minute since I raved about my favorite joggers: these. Have been living in them at home. SO SOFT. And they have pockets — a mother’s best friend.

+Have been leaning hard into this magical tincture during this busy and exhausting time in our lives. It’s like applying an Instagram filter to your face! I’ve gotten a couple of questions about how I use this — I usually apply it on top of my tinted moisturizer to my under-eye/cheekbone area and down my nose. It brightens and softens and blurs everything.

+Perfect rehearsal dinner dress.

+Love these precious Halloween treat tags. Mini’s school does not permit sweets of any kind so my dreams of sending her in with these have been dashed. Should I just send little baggies of goldfish or pretzels!? Now I’m scared!

+Love this sweater.

+This is just the best brush. I’ve used it for myself for years and now use it for mini. It grabs all her fine little hairs and detangles like a dream. A splurge, but she’ll have it for life.

+Looking for some good Halloween books for mini. She loved Room on the Broom last year. This one? Or this one? Any suggestions?

+Love this dresser for a little boy’s room.

+The best shampoo and conditioner, in my humble opinion.

By: Jen Shoop

I’m writing this while perched on the edge of the bathtub in our new apartment because there aren’t any seats here yet — but the Internet is cruising. (#Priorities.) Mr. Magpie is at our old apartment supervising the moving-out process and I’ve been uptown with our pup, micro, and nanny and I find myself suddenly with nothing to do. It is quiet. My errands are run. And so I thought I’d sit and say hello from this purgatory, a wayfarer unloading her thoughts while in transit.

Today, we moved. Or — we are moving as I write this. I can’t quite figure out how I feel, which is strange for me and my verbose, hyper-aware-of-how-I-feel self. I can usually at least categorize my mood as “good” or “bad,” but right now I principally feel distracted–too scattered and preoccupied to take my own pulse. I guess the emotional forecast is partly cloudy skies. I have felt something like exuberance as I’ve explored our new neighborhood which, so far, I much prefer to our old one, though both are on the beautiful UWS. It’s more neighborhoody, cozy, quiet, and family-oriented up here. Fewer agony-inducing disturbances (like that time I saw a pack of teens shooting heroin while walking Tilly), more strollers. We used to live down by Columbus Circle / Lincoln Center, and there is a lot more tourist traffic and general mayhem in those parts.

My excitement about our new neighborhood froths up further whenever I enter our new apartment, as it is far brighter and more spacious, and micro will have his own nursery, and I will have enough space in our bedroom to position my writing desk. The prospect of closing a door and writing in my own room is beyond delicious to me, and I understand more keenly than ever some of the more surface-level musings in Virginia Woolf’s “A Room of One’s Own.” (I say surface-level, as her essay is more engaged with gender dynamics in The Canon than it is with Manhattan real estate problems. Ha.) I expect more of this kind of writing to ensue, though — if I may be so bold as to classify that piece as “good” — good writing can happen close to anywhere if the emotional headwinds are strong enough. After all, I wrote that particular post in between frantic sessions with Mr. Magpie, strategizing about this move, while I was still recovering from a mysterious virus and my world felt topsy-turvy.

So there is excitement. And there is also a lingering stress — will we need to make more trips back to the old apartment? What about our fridge — how and when will we transports its contents North? And there is so much to buy for the new apartment. I’ve drawn up a wishlist and am awaiting a conversation with Mr. Magpie to set a budget and prioritize. I have “a bias for action” (Mr. Magpie’s gently chiding description) and so am anxious to have everything set up and unboxed and livable.

At the same time, I found myself farklempt when I saw mini playing amongst the boxes in our old apartment, and when I hacked together her bedtime routine on the night before we moved. The movers had accidentally packed her blanket and pillow, and I have no idea how I managed to track down a spare baby blanket and pillow of micro’s that just happened to have been left unpacked and afloat in one of the closet. God was looking out for us, I suppose. “I’ll spare you a meltdown tonight,” He said. I was sad, though, that she didn’t have a normal experience on her last night in our little alcove off Central Park West, but I let that bizarre thought drift right out of my mind, too preoccupied with other concerns, like whether the packers had actually packed enough of the apartment (they had left all of the closets untouched which — yikes).

Anyhow, as I sat in the silver-gray twilight of her bedroom, her warm little body on my lap, her head resting on my chest, reading her one of her favorite books, Harry the Dirty Dog (thank you to the reader who suggested this one! An instant classic chez Mapgie! — P.S. More great bedtime books for children here), I felt a swell of nostalgia catch in my throat. How many hundreds of nights have I sat there with her in my arms, repeating the same affirmations and reading the same books and singing the same lullabies? How many mornings have I walked into her petite room to rouse her — one of my favorite moments of any day?

Oh, I am a silly-heart, and saccharine to boot, but it left me teary-eyed thinking of the many happy and exhausting days we have had in Old Louise.

The day we brought micro home from the hospital, for example. (My heart breaks writing that sentence, as he is now four months and the newborn days are behind us, and I can’t stop thumbing through pictures of him at three days and one week and eleven days and — oh please! I feel ten ways about his growing up. Relieved that we are sleeping better than before, excited for the many firsts around the corner, but damned heartbroken at the prospect of his increasing alertness and independence.)

The first time we celebrated Thanksgiving on our own in New York.

When I found out I was pregnant with Hill — in the bathroom off our master bedroom, pacing back and forth, vibrating with excitement and shock.

When my sister moved back to New York.

When we found out my other sister was engaged.

When we sold our first home.

But also the moments between the drumbeats — the silences, the nothings, the grout between the cracks — like the nitty gritty of learning to be a mother to two children, the infinite soothings of skinned knees and bumped elbows, the ritual of bathtime in that damned glass-doored bath tub where you could only ever reach half of the water at a time because the other half was barricaded off by the sliding glass door, the triumphant high-fives Mr. Magpie and I often exchange when both babies are down for the night, the evening pitter patter of mini’s feet to greet her father at the door, the constant disciplining of a large airedale who tends to bark whenever anyone is in the hallway, the folding of tiny baby clothing in anxious anticipation, the boxing of too-small baby clothing in wistful nostalgia, the uncorking of celebratory bottles of wine — and bottles of wine for no reason at all, the exchange and opening of Christmas gifts, the morning brewing of coffee, the tip-toeing around a bassinet. All of these petits riens that together feel like the densest, richest pastiche of a very full, occasionally nutty, life with young children I adore and a husband I love and a dog who only occasionally tolerates me.

We are on to better things up here, but goodbyes are hard for me, and hellos can be tricky, too. I like the lived-in-at-the-seams core, where everything feels comfortable and routine and I am mistress of my own domain. We will get there.

There is a section from the poet Antonio Machado’s “Proverbs and Canticles” on wayfaring that springs to mind at this moment of transition:

Caminante, son tus huellas

el camino y nada más

In English: “Wayfarer, the only way is your footsteps, there is no other.”

Onward we go, caminante.

Post Scripts.

+I’ll share a full post on purchases for our new apartment soon, but the items I am most excited about: this vacuum, this rug for micro’s room, and this dresser.

+We will need a large rug for mini’s room and I sought the input of my dear friend and interior designer Jen Hunter as to where to look for something practical (i.e., non-white and not-too-precious), as we are still running into accidents now and then and mini loves to streak her yogurt-y or chocolate-y fingers all over the place. She immediately suggested Albert & Dash. My challenge now is to pick a pattern that isn’t too girly, as we intend to eventually move both children into the same room and it would be lovely to pre-empt the need to redecorate mini’s room from start to finish again in another year. I’m thinking of leaning into green for her room, as the glider we have for her is a beautiful green and white seersucker and — curiously, fortuitously, the previous tenants in our apartment left a beautiful set of green plaid draperies that coordinate with a window seat cushion in her room. I’ll take that as a sign. I’m considering this, this (too much pink?), this. I also liked this green one from Lulu and Georgia, this “merchant” style from C&B, and this affordable Nuloom (probably too easy to dirty).

+I’m going to do a round-up of winter shoes for little ones soon, but I did just order these for mini in the pearl color. (Does micro need these?!)

+I ended up returning that Primary fleece and buying the Patagonia. I like Primary but find the quality can be spotty. I wasn’t impressed with the fleece. (This Patagonia is also adorable.)

+Swooning over this cardigan!

+A lot of you commented on the perfect fit of the jeans the street style chic pea is sporting in the pic here. The denim from Khaite seems to be very much in that zone.

+These loafers are actual perfection.

+Love this tie-waisted quilted bomber!

+These mocs with the bat eyes!!! So cute for Halloween! (More Halloween finds here.)

+I need help expanding mini’s palette. She used to be so adventurous, and — just like that — we’re in an infinity loop of butter noodles, chicken, peanut butter and jelly, and fruit. Help! Any recommendations on good cookbooks? Considering this one.

+RL is running a 30% off promotion now through October 14th — great time to stock up on long-sleeved polos and denim for little ones.

+Had to have these corduroy overalls for micro.

+I had similar mottled emotions the day we sold our house…

By: Jen Shoop

One question I have gotten a couple of times recently is — “Is ____ worth the price?” Today, I thought I’d share a few investments that have been “worth it.”

+My Hermes H Heure watch. I wear this close to every day, and I absolutely love it. The leather gets better with time, though the strap can always be replaced if things get really dicey, and I never knew until I bought this how lovely it is to wear a timepiece. Yes, your phone is never far from reach, but it is far more elegant to casually glance at your wrist when attempting to be discreet, and also a lot more easily accessible, no matter how many little ones you are juggling. This is the type of timeless (ha – no pun intended) piece I will hand down to my daughter — an heirloom. You can find beautiful, gently-used versions on TheRealReal at a great price, too. I did briefly consider Hermes’ “Kelly” style, but felt the H Heure was more practical. The Kelly feels a bit more like a statement piece; the H Heure is a daily workhorse. (Still, wouldn’t mind a gently-loved Kelly for Christmas…)

+My Chanel medium classic flap bag in caviar leather and gold accents. I wear this all the time. I’d strongly recommend the caviar leather instead of the smooth leather, as the latter shows wear and tear and scratching a lot more easily than the caviar (“pebbled”) leather version. I also fully intend to pass this down to mini one day.

+Chanel espadrilles. I know this is a hot take, but I have worn these heavily every season since I first purchased them in maybe 2013? They are insanely comfortable and beautifully made — how can they still be hanging on without being re-soled despite heavy use?! I wore them continuously on a trip to Spain a few years back where we walked everywhere, and they’ve held up in New York’s grit and grime, too. I just love the casual elegance they lend to an otherwise straight-forward outfit of jeans and a striped tee, or — as I often wear them — with a solid-colored shirtdress. I also own some Chanel ballet flats but have to be honest and say that I don’t feel they hold up as well to heavy use — they show their age more easily and the heels can look run down fairly quickly. Don’t get me wrong: I love them. But my espadrilles have weathered far better.

+Loeffler Randall boots — I’m into the Gia style this season because I’m old, lead a 99% pedestrian life, and constantly chase two babies around. I’ve owned three or four pairs of LR boots in varying styles and have hung onto them each for multiple seasons despite intense wear-and-tear and a lot of inclement weather (ahem, Chicago). If you can get your paws on a pair of Matildes — do it. I wish they’d bring this elegant shape back. I still own and cherish a pair in a saddle brown color, though my treasured black ones had to be laid to rest after about six straight years of wear. The Matildes work with everything from jeans to skirts, cut a sleek profile, and are comfortable owing to that slight wedge heel (though you should know LR runs narrow). These shoes are quite simply exceptionally made.

+My Hermes Orans. This is probably one of the most-asked questions I field via DM: “Are your Hermes Orans worth it?” Yes. YES. Aside from my Chanel espadrilles, I live in these all summer long. Every other sandal/shoe is kind of “a statement” to go with whatever I’m wearing on a given day. But the Orans go with everything and live under my desk so I can slip into them on my way out the door, regardless of what I’m wearing. They work with jeans, dresses, skirts, shorts, and lend an easy sophistication to any look. I adore them.

+Pearl earrings. I wear mine close to every day. They go with everything and just fit my personal style to a T.

+Hermes scarves. Timeless, beautifully made, and go with virtually any look. You can wear them in a trillion ways, but I tend to wear them sort of draped around my neck, paired with a simple blouse or tee or shirt-dress. I adore mine.

+J. Brand Photoready Stretch Denim. Just the most flattering jeans ever in the most flattering fabric known to woman. They also last forever. I have a pair I’ve worn for maybe six or seven years that I’m still hanging on to.

+DVF wrap dresses. These are so well-made and they work at every age. I’ve accrued a selection of maybe five or six over time — often when on sale at The Outnet! — and I’m so happy I did. They’re the easiest piece to pull out of the closet when you’re not sure what to wear, want to look polished but approachable, and want to feel comfortable but flattered.

You’ll note I’ve left out some other high-end items I cherish and have written about elsewhere — for example, the Goyard St. Louis Tote, my Valentino Rockstuds, a few Louis Vuitton bags, Golden Goose sneakers, etc. I dearly love all of these items and do wear them frequently (my Goyard in particular), but when I stop to think about which pieces I wear most frequently and which have held up the best to the test of time, the above list feels about right.

A few other items that get a ton of use at home but aren’t at quite the level of luxury as the pieces above — and that therefore you might consider escalating to the top of your shopping list (i.e., more affordable but heavily used):

PAM MUNSON CHARLOTTE CLUTCH

NICOLA BATHIE FLORAL EARRINGS

MZ WALLACE BACKPACK

GIGI NEW YORK POUCH (<<I SEEM TO ALWAYS FIND A NEED FOR THIS BAG, WHICH GOES WITH ME ON EVERY TRIP; I USE IT TO STOW JEWELRY EN ROUTE BUT THEN AM ALWAYS HAPPY TO HAVE A CLUTCH THAT GOES WITH EVERYTHING FOR A RANDOM DIP OUT FOR DRINKS OR A QUICK RUN DOWN TO THE HOTEL RESTAURANT)

J. CREW ANORAK IN ARMY GREEN

PACKING CUBES — SWEAR BY THESE AND THESE, WHICH MAKE PACKING A BREEZE

RALPH LAUREN OXFORDS AND POLOS

L.L. BEAN BOTE TOTES

J. CREW ELSIE SUEDE PUMPS (THE BEST THE BEST)

TKEES FLIP FLOPS (I ACTUALLY HATE FLIP FLOPS — THEY ALWAYS FEEL JUVENILE ON ME! — BUT YOU NEED A PAIR FOR PEDICURES, BEACH, ETC — AND THESE HOLD UP INCREDIBLY WELL AND LOOK NON-BULKY)

LAYERED & LONG RING (I HAD ONE MADE WITH MINI’S INITIALS AND BIRTH DATE AND I WEAR IT NEARLY EVERY DAY)

P.S. Fall staples / fall trends.

P.P.S. Working on a Magpie Mail post — send me your questions via email or direct message!

P.P.P.S. Musings on epistolarity and poetics.

By: Jen Shoop

My Latest Snag: The Everlane Sweater.

I’ve written about this a lot already, but this alpaca cardigan is my favorite acquisition for fall. I was ecstatic when Everlane sent it over — the prettiest color, the most interesting texture, and a surprisingly flattering shape (I love the trim cuffs).

P.S. More great sweaters.

You’re Sooooo Popular: The Gingham Cardigan.

Though I did a round up of the most popular items on le blog last month yesterday — below, the most popular items on the blog this past week:

+This gingham cardigan.

+This floral blouse. (Use code TULIP for 10% off.)

+This chic raincoat.

+Still get a ton of mileage out of these flats, which I own in ivory and have worn for the past four seasons.

+Leopard puffer. (I’m into it.)

+Oversized poplin top.

+A favorite $3 Amazon score.

+Adorable way to dress your front door.

#Turbothot: Are You a Purist or Pragmatist?

I’ve written about this elsewhere (probably multiple times), but the most fascinating lesson I took away from an executive MBA program I completed a few years back was that one of the most helpful pieces of information to ascertain when negotiating (and there is an art to it) is whether the person sitting across from you is a purist or a pragmatist. That is — will this person compromise on certain things? What are the unimpeachables that are not even worth touching in the conversation? If you find yourself seated alongside a pragmatist, and you are the same way, the negotiation usually unfolds beautifully. There might be back-and-forth, but both parties understand the old give-and-take and a handshake is not far in your future. If you’re grappling with a purist — well, good luck. Set your expectations at the door. Or compromise on things far afield from their core values, like who pays for the coffee.

An example from my own real life: I sit on the board of a foundation whose assets are managed and invested by hired experts. Many years ago, several of the board members decided to place a “filter” of sorts on the kinds of investments the foundation was willing to make — for example, they did not want to own stock in any company that was in any way related to the manufacture or trade of guns and arms, as they felt it antithetical to the organization’s core values. This in turn meant that massive companies like Boeing were black-balled. The filter expanded over time such that companies like Apple were excluded for their practices in manufacturing products in Asia. The pragmatists on the board were saying: “But, hey! If we invest wisely in high-performing companies, we will have more money to do more good on the causes that matter to us!” And the purists were saying: “But, no! How can we possibly in good conscience extract any money from companies that are at cross-purposes with our own ethics?!”

I’ll let you puzzle over that conundrum for a minute.

As you can imagine, it was difficult to edge our way toward a resolution on the matter.

At any rate, I have found this “sorting hat” helpful in all kinds of avenues — as a manager, as a friend, as a colleague, as an entrepreneur. It helps me navigate around potential pitfalls and understand why certain people make the decisions they do.

Which are you?

P.S. I’m definitely a pragmatist — in the kitchen, at least. Maybe it’s possible to be a purist in some realms and a pragmatic in others?

Post-Scripts: A Pretty Shower Curtain.

+This is just the prettiest shower curtain (under $50!).

+I bought a striped sweater very similar to this one last fall from Zara and wore it at least once a week. Love the boxy style. I often wore mine with waxed leggings (even while pregnant!)

+A fun, on-trend fall dress.

+Yet another great sweater that nails all of the trends — ribbed, heathered, puffed-sleeved, cropped.

+LOVE this sherpa coat.

+This velvet jumpsuit would be fun for the holidays.

+Still heart eyes over the fair isle sweaters at LSF (ON SALE!!) Would look so cute with light-wash denim (or winter whites!). And while on the subject of LSF: now would be a good time to purchase one of their summery florals and stow it away for next year, because the discount is outrageous!

+Another fun holiday score, though I envision it with black cropped skinny pants and major shoes, like these.

+These shoes for a little one…meep!

By: Jen Shoop

The most popular items on le blog last month:

THESE PEARL EARRINGS

MY FAVORITE JEANS (ON SALE HERE)

MY FAVORITE EVERYDAY PUMPS (OWN IN 4 OR 5 COLORS)

THIS PUFF-SLEEVED BLOUSE (ON SALE)

THIS CROC BAG (CHIC PEA ABOVE WEARING A VARIATION ON THIS THEME BY THE SAME DESIGNER)

TBH, if you put all of the pieces above on at the same time, it’d be a killer and classy look. CHIC.

The pieces I’m most excited to wear these days:

BLACK SKINNIES

MY EMILIA WICKSTEAD X CHARLOTTE OLYMPIA FLATS (I OWN IN A FLORAL PRINT)

MY CROPPED ALPACA CARDIGAN

MY PEARL HEADBAND

MY POLO OXFORDS (<< ON SALE HERE!)

The pieces I’m dying to add to my wardrobe this month:

THIS HEADBAND

A PAIR OF PARIS TEXAS BOOTS

A NEW PAIR OF JEANS — STILL DEBATING BETWEEN MOUSSY (THANKS TO LEANDRA) AND AGOLDE

THIS DOEN DRESS

THIS STRIPED BOW BLOUSE

Lust list items I would love to get my hands on this season — though I am guessing most of our fall budget will go towards outfitting our new apartment: this Rotate dress, one of these Ascot clutches or a Bottega Veneta pouch clutch, and a Lee Radziwill bag. (Guess I’m having bag envy.)

P.S. Puff sleeves and sweater weather.

P.P.S. The best gifts for men and the best sources for affordable stationery.

P.P.P.S. Mothers and daughters.

By: Jen Shoop

Some of the apartments we toured during our recent house hunt were perfectly nice but lacked personality. I would say that Mr. Magpie and I are pretty adaptable when it comes to home style — in fact, we always scoff when couples on House Hunters state a laundry list of “must-haves” as they seek their new homes: “a claw-foot tub,” “fine woodworking details,” “wainscoting,” etc. Our home in Chicago was fairly contemporary-looking: there was a see-through fireplace separating the dining and living areas in a modern slate gray setting, a sleek metal banister on the steps up to the second floor, and a “hidden bathroom” cleverly disguised in a wall that was paneled with various types of frosted glass (hard to describe, but it was slick), among other contemporary-looking details–but we have gravitated towards the traditional charm of pre-war buildings here in Manhattan. The main thing for us is that we want a home that doesn’t feel like a box. We want interesting details, quirky nooks and crannies, personality. Our current apartment (which we leave on Friday!) features a pass-through from the kitchen to the dining room, arched entryways, and a small built-in cut into the side of the kitchen to display serveware. Though we are very ready to leave it (we are absolutely busting at the seams), I’d be lying if I didn’t say I’m a little misty-eyed thinking of bidding adieu to old Louise. We enjoyed our first (and second) Thanksgivings alone as a family here. We sold our old home in Chicago from here. Mini learned to walk here, and sleep through the night here (joy!), and express herself in increasingly complex language here. I found out I was pregnant here — and I will never forget calling Mr. Magpie from our master bathroom while he was in between meetings at work to tell him the news.

“Lan…?!” My voice trembling and bright. He knew before I finished the sentence.

I struggled through the final uncomfortable trimester of what is likely my final pregnancy here, and muscled my way through that painful week of being overdue, and then — we brought micro home here.

So many family milestones in this itty bitty pocket of Manhattan — and the personality of this apartment has been a perfect foil to each and every one of them.

I am glad, then, that our new digs boast commensurate character, though it occurred to me when we were down on our luck and frenetically trying to line up a place to live that we could probably give any old place a personality, thanks to the careful purchase and curation of accents and curiosities that I have accrued over our nearly decade-long marriage. Below, I thought I’d share a couple of my favorite (largely inexpensive!) ways to personalize a home:

+French enamel house numbers. I bought a vintage one with patina and rusting to prove it (similar to this one) featuring the number 18 on it — Mr. Magpie’s lucky number as a former ballplayer. I worked ours into a gallery wall hanging above our sofa, but you could replace the house number on the outside of your home with one of these, or prop it up on a bookcase, or buy a bunch of them and line them up on a narrow wall, possibly to showcase a wedding date or number of personal significance. I also like these ones, though the white-on-blue is kind of classic.

+Framed handwritten recipe or note. We have a recipe scrawled in Mr. Magpie’s grandmother’s loopy script for pierogis (she was Polish) that we framed and hung with a bunch of other prints in coordinating gilt frames. You could frame a note from a loved one, a recipe, etc. I love the look of old-fashioned writing on a wall.

+Calligraphed lyrics or prayer. I used this Etsy shop to have some lyrics of personal importance calligraphed onto 11×14 paper for my sister and I. (I also love the quotes here and here, and would also consider having a prayer or Bible verse of personal meaning calligraphed.)

+If you live out of state and have hometown pride, a block print from Old Try will bring joy and personality to a gallery wall. We have the “Old Dominion” one and get so many compliments on it.

+Vintage oil-on-canvas/watercolors in a theme of personal significance. Mr. Magpie and I love dogs and have amassed quite the collection of vintage art pieces featuring canines for our gallery wall. Etsy is a treasure trove for this kind of thing — check out this cool etching or this amazing original watercolor. (Don’t be intimidated/put off by the small size on these things! You can always reframe them with a large mat around them so that they take up more space and look more modern. Alternately, mix in some bigger, less expensive pieces, like a mirror with interesting rope detailing.

+Framed article of clothing. How sweet would it be to frame a Baptismal gown or bonnet? Or maybe a handkerchief from a wedding or a loved one? Or a square from a beloved quilt? So many cool ways to personalize your space with this while repurposing something you already own and love (and just for the cost of the acrylic frame!).

+Frame a vintage map. This is another great trick for filling a big, empty wall space — maps are typically fairly inexpensive but can be enormous. Pick a location of personal significance — we have framed maps of Lyon, France (where I studied abroad and came into my own) and San Sebastian, Spain (site of our most cherished vacation ever). I found both for a song on Etsy and framed them myself. (My Lyon one is similar to this one.)

+A unique door-knocker. I recently featured this brass bee, which many of you loved. I also love this dragonfly one and this bunny one, but searching on Etsy yields all kinds of gorgeous options.

My final piece of advice — if you go to a high-end home design store (I especially love Jayson Home in Chicago and Scully & Scully here in NY) and you see a piece you adore, do a little hunting on Etsy, eBay, and Target for something similar (and less expensive) before committing to the higher price tag. For example, I loved these little horn-legged cowhide footstools at Jayson Home, but they were pricey. I found these nearly identical ones on eBay and it’s happily lived in our living room since. Later, I wanted a flokati stool for mini’s nursery but couldn’t believe that they often retailed for upwards of $400. I found a dupe on Target similar to this that was perfect (and not overly precious!) for her nursery. Use those high-end stores (and also your favorite interior design books! — I’ve gotten tons of ideas from this Nate Berkus one in particular, as he has a knack for incorporating cool curiosities into the homes of his clients — photo at top of this post is proof of his talent in this regard!) for inspiration and then hunt around to get the look for less.

P.S. Luxuries for even the smallest of homes.

P.P.S. Loving the look of these boxy yet trim cardigans this season. Everlane sent me this one (in rose) and I am OBSESSED WITH IT. And speaking of rose: I am kind of head over heels in love with this The Great sherpa coat. I love the webbing at the cuffs, the collarless style (so many sherpa coats have those huge double-breasted collars), and the color, of course.

P.P.S. These fragments I have shored against my ruins and I won’t soon forget.

By: Jen Shoop

Saks is running its Friends & Family promotion and while there are tons of great finds for me (ahem and ahem and ahem), I have been dying over the amazing price breaks on childrens’ clothing, especially on brands/styles that are rarely discounted:

SOREL SNOW BOOTS FOR MINIS (GET LOOK FOR LESS WITH THESE)

LILLY SHIFTS (BUY NOW FOR NEXT SUMMER)

ROLLER RABBIT JAMS (MINI AND MICRO WORE THIS EXACT PRINT FOR THE FOURTH THIS YEAR — BUY NOW FOR NEXT YEAR!)

GOLDEN GOOSE SNEAKS

KISSY KISSY FOOTIES (LOVE THEIR CONVERTIBLE GOWNS FOR ITTY BITTY BABIES, AND — JUST IN TIME FOR HALLOWEEN!)

SOPHIA WEBSTER SHOES

A GREAT GIFT FOR A NEW BABY (OR THIS!)

P.S. The best baby travel gear.

P.P.S. Standout affordable beauty products.

P.P.P.S. 10 things I love that I shouldn’t.

By: Jen Shoop

I’ve written somewhat extensively about my love affair with my bed. It’s one of only a handful of spaces I truly consider my own in our petite Manhattan apartment, and I take disproportionate pride in its making, straightening, and fluffing every single day–and the ironing of its linens every week. As I wrote last weekend, my ministrations in service to my bed reflect my sense that if I can’t do the small things right, the big things are all out of wack. And so when Serena & Lily offered to send me some of their beautiful pillows, I knew immediately that I’d love the opportunity to dress up my bed with something new and ultra-luxe. I have always loved Serena & Lily, whose ethos that “living well begins at home” resonates deeply with my own outlook on the relationship between a well-designed, well-kept home and a tidy, well-lived life. I chose these Leighton pillow covers in the smoke, both in the 24″ square and the 14×30″ bolster, these pillow inserts, and this alpaca throw, and am ecstatic with the results on top of my upholstered bedframe (which I bought several years ago from Serena & Lily, and which has held up beautifully). Doesn’t it look delicious?!

PSA: S&L is currently running one of their rare 20%-off-everything Friends and Family Sales with code GUESTPREP, now through October 14th, and it couldn’t come at a better time for us as we prepare to move uptown in two short days and have a need to invest in some new furniture. Below, the items I am eyeing seriously:

DIP-DYED STOOLS FOR MICRO’S NURSERY (WE’LL BE SHORT ON SPACE IN HIS TINY ROOM, SO THIS WILL BE A WELCOME ACCENT TABLE / STOOL TO PERCH ON)

LA JOLLA BASKETS FOR TOYS AND LAUNDRY

BLAKE DRESSER (PLEASE, MR. MAGPIE, CAN WE FINALLY GET RID OF YOUR OLD CEDAR DRESSER?!)

MICRO’S ROOM HAS A BATHROOM WITH — CURIOUSLY — NO MIRROR INSTALLED ABOVE THE SINK, AND I’M EYEING THIS ONE

THIS SLEEK TABLE LAMP

THESE GINGHAM CRIB SHEETS

A RUNNER LIKE THIS OR THIS THAT WON’T SHOW TOO MUCH DIRT IN THE LONG ENTRYWAY IN OUR NEW APARTMENT

DAYDREAMING ABOUT ADDING THIS CHAISE TO OUR MASTER BR FOR READING/BREASTFEEDING MICRO/WATCHING TV

THIS FUN TOILE TRAY FOR OUR LARGELY BLUE LIVING ROOM

ONE OF THESE LONG BENCHES FOR THE FOOT OF OUR BED

This post is written in partnership with Serena & Lily.

By: Jen Shoop

The Roaring Fork sluices through congregations of ghost-white Aspen trees in righteous, urgent froth. You can hear it before you can see its roiling surface: an eternally crescendo-ing exhale. And so you might walk a few paces forward and go from stargazing at the tinsel aspens, whose leaves whistle in the breeze, to the roar of that river.

That riversong entranced my father. When we spent summers in Colorado, he passed long stretches of it on the banks of the Roaring Fork, dry fly fishing.

There has been much written about the art — the near spirituality — of fly fishing. There will be nothing novel here on that front, in part because I do not count myself among its initiates. But I learned from watching the arc of my father’s cast and observing the intensity of his devotions to its craft a lot about doing things the right and good way, and also, improbably, about writing. And writing the right and good way.

My father liked to fish in the morning, before afternoon shadows interfered with his odds of success by confusing the fish into seeing phantom predators. He had a few different cast styles depending on the speed of the water and the density of foliage on the banks — a roll cast meant he could keep his line free from the entrapment of thick overhead branches, but his curve cast was a thing of beauty: a filament shimmering, suspended, in a perfect “s” over his head. The sound of the reel, the whip of the line, the soft plunk of the fly onto the water’s surface. This was rhythm: this was incantation: this was the sound of art at the hands of a master.

He’d usually spend some time observing the insects, especially the flies that occasionally laid eggs on the water’s surface, so that he could thumb through his case for a dry fly that might match.

He was so fastidious on this front that he’d usually gut the first fish he’d catch and thumb through its belly to find out what it’d been eating. Occasionally, too, he’d politely ask a fellow fishermen retreating from the riverbank: “What’re they biting?” He occasionally discarded their input, I noticed. It always seemed to me more a formality than an earnest inquiry, sort of a tip of the hat in passing. Because my father had his own mind about things, and an enquiring mind it was.

Once on the water, he thought about his positioning, his shadow, the coves and enclaves the fish might shelter themselves in, whether he should brave a few feet of the water in his green rubberized waders. And he could always see trout well before the rest of us, his eyes trained in their necromantic shape-shifting.

I learned, while watching him read the waters of the Roaring Fork, the elegant shape he cut when focused on doing something he loved. I admired his focus, his precision. The tedious selecting of flies, for example: he’d sometimes try five or six different kinds, giving each multiple dozen casts. Some days, he’d lay a catch of a dozen rainbow or brook or brown trout across a rock while engrossed in his handiwork. Other days, he’d return to the car empty-handed, but never ill tempered. He’d just come back the next day. It was more about the process than the product, though we never minded when his labors bore fruit: fresh trout, dredged in flour and egg-wash and breadcrumbs, pan-fried in butter, for dinner.

I learned, obliquely, about the art and obsession of writing watching him on the Roaring Fork. The careful selection of materials, the interaction of different ingredients and inputs, the quiet and persistent dedication to a craft. The fussing over details, the trimming of the line with those stubby little clippers attached to his vest. The fact that there were no short-cuts: just the repetitive, introspection-inviting rituals of casting a bamboo rod out into a wild river. And the solicitous tweaking of this and that–the adjustment of his cast, the application of a gel to a dry-fly to keep it afloat, for example–were all subtleties I observed and absorbed and now find myself practicing in the realm of language, where there are also no short-cuts, and where rituals matter, and where the dip or float of a particular phrase can hang on the sound of one little word — say, chelonian — I might agonize over for half a day. But mainly: where the addition or retraction of a detail can leave you with the catch of a lifetime or a soul-crushingly blank page.

And so when I am writing and I find myself in a flow, the words appearing on the screen before me before I’ve even processed them, I think of my father on the Roaring Fork, reeling in his rainbows, a look of mildly shocked glee on his face. And I am grateful to be an extension of his gesture.

Post Scripts.

+The photo at top is actually of my brother fly-fishing the Roaring Fork. I couldn’t find a good one of my father on the river, so my brother — in many ways my father’s double, and a similarly devout fisherman in his own right — will have to do.

+I’m lucky to be his child.

+If your dad/sibling/loved one is also a flyfisherman, you must know about the brand Poncho. They sent me one of their fishing shirts last winter and I gave it to my Dad. I think it is the only gift I’ve ever given him that he’s liked. And he really liked it.

+For those of us a little less outdoorsy: consider the puff sleeve. Ha. How’s that for contrast? Also consider this epic blouse (WANT) and this pearl-adorned handbag.

+I wrote recently about the sconces we are installing in our new apartment — and oh my goodness, how incredible are these?! They are too feminine for our overall living area look, but I do love them. Can you imagine them flanking a gorgeous piece of abstract art?! To die.

+I’m liking this lightweight puffer coat for cooling weather. The colors are cool — ochre maybe?!

+I’ve fallen in love with this monogrammed linen bed pocket — how genius! Tuck it under the mattress and stow your remotes there. I am forever losing mine in my sheets!

+One option we have been considering in our new apartment is giving micro mini’s crib and buying a bunk bed for mini’s room, as we intend to have them share a bedroom eventually. How brilliant is this one with the pull-out trundle?! Perfect for sleepovers and also for training mini to get used to sleeping in a big girl bed!

+This pine cone wreath with its gorgeous velveteen bow makes me so excited to decorate for fall/winter.

+How cute are these terrier dog bookends?!

+Can you tell I’m obsessed with Aspen? My own personal Mount Helicon.

+A new Tom Scheerer interior design book is out!

+Love the look of Matouk’s Lanai pique collection for mini’s “big girl” bed, maybe with some contrasting fun printed sheets.

+The sense of an ending.

By: Jen Shoop

I wrote a few weeks back about my sleeplessness at the hands of my three-month-old. I would listen, eyes and heart drooping, an envious smile on my face, as other friends announced joyously: “Yep, at nine weeks, little Joe was sleeping through the night!” Things got better for a spell, largely owing to the wisdom and tactics so many of you shared in the comments on that post, and then careened out of control during my week from hell, when the baby fell ill and my world went upside down. There was a string of nights where we were up every hour, rattled by inconsolable crying.

It was misery.

Once we emerged from that rocky time, I committed to three things that I believed would help us inch closer to a more accommodating nighttime routine, and — lo and behold — they seem to have worked. (I offer this observation tremulously, humbly, as we all know that everything is a phase and, in most things related to child-rearing, we’ll likely follow the old “two steps forward, one step back” routine.) The three things that have gotten us to a place where micro seems to be only waking once for a middle-of-the-night feed:

1 // Spacing feedings during the day. I was awful about this for far too long. My pediatrician had recommended I “stretch” him between feedings at the age of two months, and I didn’t truly get around to following through on this until the last week or two, when I hitched up my big girl panties and laid down the law: absolutely no feedings fewer than four hours apart. This has been challenging, as I tend towards the “feed on-demand” model, which feels more intuitive to me, and his nanny is just as much of a softie as I am — we’d both rather respond to his hungry cry with a feed. The last thirty minutes of a cycle is unpleasant, as he is hangry and fussy, and we must walk him up and down the hallway or weasel a pacifier into his mouth or otherwise distract him. But we have elbowed our way there and it has been getting progressively easier. Virtually the day we committed to the four-hours-apart feeding regimen, he started sleeping for longer stretches at night.

2 // Not rushing to feed at night. There have been a few nights where he has woken up crying and the old me would have assumed he was hungry and fed him. The new me — unless it’s been over four or five hours since his last feed — will now give him the pacifier and soothe him back to sleep. The first two times I succeeded in this, I was astounded. Could I have been feeding him unnecessarily all this time?! Enabling him? Of course, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows — it’s not exactly my idea of a pleasant middle-of-the-night wake-up when I wrangle a crying baby back to sleep for ten minutes or so. It’d be a lot simpler to just feed him back to sleep — quick solution! — but future me will appreciate this investment in time and patience. (And, all-in, it takes a lot less time to calm him down and put him back to bed than it would to feed him, as I am still breastfeeding and then supplementing with formula at every single feed.)

3 // Locking into a bed time. I’m generally somewhat fluid about “schedules” with my kids. We are rather philosophical about this — life happens. Sometimes they sleep longer at a given naptime or skip a nap and we factor that in to when we put them down at night. Or sometimes we have guests over and bedtime gets pushed back a little. Or sometimes I need to pick up mini while micro should be asleep but he’s awake, stimulated by what he’s seeing on the subway. Or sometimes I need to get errands done and he needs to sleep in his stroller. Or sometimes he sleeps for only twenty minutes and won’t go back down despite the fact that he usually sleeps for a solid hour or two at this time of day. Or sometimes dinner arrives late, or there’s an accident just before bed, or the dog is going ballistic and the kids can’t sleep or or or. We roll with it, accommodating these unexpected interruptions. I know most of my friends (and probably most of my readers) would not like our approach, but it works for us in the sense that it takes a lot of pressure out of parenting routines for me. I am hyper organized and if I were to commit to a time-bound schedule, I would lose my mind. I’ve tried, and they’ve left me feeling harried, perpetually behind the eight ball, and generally distracted.

That said. All things in moderation. And so we are pretty consistent with mini’s bedtime (nearly always 6:30-ish — it used to be 7:30 but then she stopped napping and bedtime had to move up), and I’m now pretty consistent with micro’s, too. He usually goes down right after his sister, around 7-ish. And when I put him down for bed, everything I do signals that it’s nighttime. Lights are out, blinds are drawn, sound machine is roaring, jammies and sleep sack zipped and tucked. We put his bassinet at my bedside at night, too, whereas during the day, it’s off in the corner of our room. This, I think, is yet another “IT’S NIGHTTIME” signal.

Related: all of the sudden, micro outgrew his swaddles, both in size (it was hard to really tuck him in — he’s too tall and big!) and in preference (all of the sudden, he’d turn irate when I’d wrap him). I started putting him into one of these, whose sleeves zip off (brilliant), and am now also in the market for a proper heavy-weight sleep sack as winter descends upon us. I have my eye on this striped sleep sack, this gingham, and also maybe one of these bamboo ones, which a few readers have raved about. (I also have a few of their solid-colored jammies in my cart to test.)

Not really related but I’ll drop it here nonetheless: one thing I think I’ve done a slightly better job of with micro is not always nursing him to sleep. It used to be so easy to put mini to sleep with her nighttime nursing session / bottle. With micro, his last meal is usually around six, and then I put him down about an hour later — around seven — which means one less habit to have to break in the future.

Oh! And a fourth thing that helped that had nothing to do with the baby: I temporarily put myself to bed at 8 p.m. every night for maybe a week. It was horrible, as I felt I had absolutely no time to be an adult. I normally cherish the two or three hours Mr. Magpie and I have to ourselves between the hours of 7 and 10 to watch something, talk, enjoy a few glasses of wine, and eat in delicious, uninterrupted silence. Instead, I’d drag myself to bed. But it did make a difference in helping me muscle through a tough, exhausted time.

At any rate, I’m rambling here. The through-line of this entire essayette should be:

I don’t know what I’m doing, really, but we somehow seemed to have turned a corner and I might as well share the factors that seemed to have contributed to our (likely temporary) success.

Having a second child has paradoxically made me more humble and less convinced that anything I have done as a parent “works.”

So here we are. Slightly more bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but still feeling our way through things.

How’s it hanging for you?

Post Scripts: New Fall Finds for Little Ones.

*I found the photo above on Pinterest, but I’m pretty sure he’s outfitted in Pepa & Co, AKA #babydressinggoalz.

THIS FLANNEL SCHOOLDRESS FOR MINI

ALSO LOVE THIS SIMILAR STYLE

THESE DACHSUND KEDS (INSLEE, I’M LOOKING AT YOU!)

THIS TEDDY COAT FOR A “BIG KID,” THIS ONE FOR A BABY, AND THIS ONE FOR A TODDLER

HITHA SWEARS BY THIS PLATE TO HELP WITH HER PICKY SON WHEN IT COMES TO DINNERTIME — I’M WILLING TO TRY EVERYTHING WITH MY NEWLY PICKY TODDLER!

THIS SHERPA VEST

THESE BABY SADDLE SHOES (ORDERING THEM FOR MICRO’S CHRISTMAS OUTFIT EARLY! — ALSO DYING OVER THESE, BUT AM CONVINCED THEY’D JUST FALL OFF HIS FEET)

THESE GOLDEN GOOSE-ESQUE SNEAKS FOR MINI

THESE RED VELVET MARY JANES FOR MINI’S HOLIDAY LOOKS

THESE FALL FLORAL JAMS

THIS PLAID HEADBAND

THESE SHERPA-LINED BOOTIES FOR MICRO

P.S. Halloween scores for little ones.

P.P.S. You are enough and some musings on matrescence.

P.P.P.S. Chic Amazon finds for children.

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