We were married in August — in the thick, hazy humidity of sump-like D.C., against the torpid buzz of cicadas and the breezeless but verdant landscape of the city’s Northwest quadrant. I remember descending the stone steps from the cool of my parents’ foyer to the black town car, my bridesmaids around me and the click of the camera whirring, and looking out at the immobile trees and stock-still grass in the lot across from my parents’ home, the sunbeams filtering through the umbrage of branches mottled and hazy and cloudy with moisture.
Against all odds, I love that stagnant August heat, probably or perhaps only because it is saturated with memories of summer spent in the backyard of my childhood home, all bare feet and too-short bangs and hand-me-down polo shirts and cricketsong and popsicle juice dripping down my arm and fireflies and the click-on-click-off of the air conditioner in that ancient stone house.
So I hardly mind the summers up here in New York, which present a similar weather profile, although here there is also the fetid stench of trash baking in bags on curbs and the throngs of tourists and the strange push and pull of not wanting to waste away in the apartment but also craving its air conditioning.
All of this to say: when I think of summer, I dream of a very specific wardrobe, one that it is all about breathable fabrics and loose shapes and below I am sharing what I’d like to add to beat the heavy heat of summer.
It’s 2:47 A.M. and micro’s urgent cries from his bassinet at my bedside hurtle me, inelegantly, from a deep sleep that feels agonizingly painful to shake off. I take a few seconds to gather myself, though the increasing ferocity and volume of micro’s cries force me from supine to upright in under a minute. I quickly arrange my necessities — my phone, the remotes, my canteen of water, and an oat granola bar, as I’m routinely ravenously hungry from breastfeeding at this hour — at my side, remove my bathrobe and micro’s swaddle (a desperate ploy to maintain wakefulness on both of our parts so that we can feed and return to sleep as quickly as possible), and settle in to nurse my boy.
This feed is a doozy. The one around 11 P.M. — even if I’ve drifted off before it — and the one at 6 A.M. are manageable. But the 3 A.M. feed is not for the faint of heart — at least not going on four weeks of interrupted sleep. I usually try not to wake Mr. Magpie during these feeds, but I had mentioned, off-handedly, that I might need to rouse him some nights for company, as I have several times fallen entirely asleep while feeding micro and woken with a bad crick in my neck an hour later, or with a half-finished bottle dripping into my lap, or to a wailing, half-fed baby looking for milk. Even with the TV on, I tumble into sleep with something like hunger, as if my body is grasping desperately to pull its mantle over my shoulders and my eyelids have turned leaden.
Without further prompting, Mr. Magpie heard me clambering around at 3 A.M. the following night and leapt out of bed with a sprightliness unseemly for the hour. I could have been hallucinating, but I think he might have danced while snapping his fingers as he walked around the foot of the bed to grab my canteen to refill it with water and prep the bottle for micro. When he got back into bed, he sat up next to me and dove suddenly into conversation about a competitor of ours from back when we owned a technology business, peppering his observations with humor that left us laughing out loud. It was an odd conversation for 3 A.M. made even odder by the fact that we were deliriously chuckling to ourselves, and as I studied his profile against the glare of “Very Cavallari” on the T.V., I thought — my oh my how time has changed us.
There was a time when we would not even leave to “go out” for the evening until 11 P.M. Nowadays, we applaud ourselves if we’re awake past 9:30 P.M. and we’re deeply thrilled with ourselves if we’re out of the apartment at such a “late” hour.
There was a time when serious, thoughtful conversations tended to take place during the intimacy of dinner hour, over a languid glass of wine — or perhaps after a meal, into the unfurling of an Arlington night sky dotted through with the blare of cicadas and the occasional roar of a car up Larrimore Street — not squeezed in anywhere it might fit over the course of the day and invariably interrupted by the needs of our children.
There was a time when 1 or 2 or 3 A.M. meant a late night slice of pizza on the way home, or the dwindling of a dance party in the living room of my apartment on R Street in Georgetown, or that time we slow-danced on the roof of an apartment building on Wisconsin Avenue right across the street from the National Cathedral, its ancient spires oddly befitting of the wild romance of the evening, or the quiet taxi ride back from wherever we’d been, windows down, the streets of D.C. whizzing by — all placid save for the flash of street lights and the blare of neon signs. Not sitting up in bed, fighting the urge to sleep, as we elbow our way through this hazy blur as parents to two young children.
I have been thinking a lot about us lately. About the many permutations of us there have been. About how obscenely fortunate I am that we have evolved in different ways and into different versions of ourselves that continue, improbably, to complement one another despite the fact that we fell in love when I was only eighteen years old and knew nothing about anything save for the fact that this man was a good man and I would do well to build a life with him.
There is a lot of static in my life right now — a lot of movement, a lot of change, a lot of chaos. But somehow sitting up at 3 A.M. with Mr. Magpie, enjoying his companionship, and thinking about just how far we’ve come together simplified things. It was as if I’d been scanning the radio for days, listening to the static crackle, searching for the familiar shape of sound, and had finally tuned into a crystal clear station. This man is a good man and I would do well to build a life with him. I am convinced that this is the through-line, the very center of the story of my life. For others, it might be the search for family, or matrescence, or vocation of one kind or another — but, as I told him weepily a few days after we got home from the hospital, I have loved building a home and a family and a life with him, and I have loved wandering through career changes and the purchase and sale of a home and the many complexities of adulthood at his side, but the main thing is — him. He is core and all else is peripheral, whether we are in our early 20s, streaming out of a bar on the Corner at UVA or in our mid-30s, feeding babies and laughing about some insider business trash talk from a phase in our professional lives that already feels as though it belongs to somebody else, so distant are its concerns from the fabric of my current life. The nature of a 3 A.M. party together may have changed, but nothing about the shape of our relationship and its centricity to my narrative has morphed.
How is this possible, I wonder? “The past is foreign country; they do things differently there,” wrote L.P. Hartley. How lucky I am that we continue to find our present in the same latitude and longitude, sitting right alongside one another.
+For Father’s Day, I ordered Mr. Magpie the COOLEST clothes from a new-to-me label, Todd Snyder. They are beautifully made and super versatile in my opinion — some menswear labels skew a bit too hipster for his classic/preppy style, but these pieces feel super adaptable. I bought him a pair of these pants in the rose color, these shorts, and this long-sleeved tee in the olive color, which looks amazing with his hazel eyes. Though the t-shirts are pricey, the pants and shorts feel reasonable.
+I also bought him a pair of these Patagonia “baggies” shorts in the spiced coral color, which are really more of a neon orange and give me major retro lifeguard vibes (love the shorter length!). I thought they would be perfect dad gear for mornings in the Hamptons, whether we’re playing in the backyard sprinklers or walking on the beach, and for weekends spent at the Central Park splash pads.
+I briefly considered buying him a pair of splurge-y Vilbrequin swim trunks, beloved by jetsetters who frequent Saint Tropez, especially since they make coordinating pairs for children, but knew he’d balk at the extravagance.
+A few of you have asked whether Mr. Magpie might write a post on cooking/cooking gear — I’m trying to convince him! — but in the meantime, you can absorb a lot of his genius obliquely through this roundup of our (…his) favorite cookbooks and this rundown of the best kitchen gear. Some additional thoughts on meal planning here.
+Speaking of micro, there are some great children’s sales right now, including at Maisonette (love these and these for micro and this swimsuit for mini), Jacadi (these! and of course any of their Liberty prints), and La Coqueta (this, this, and this are in my cart).
+I did end up ordering the coordinating FOJ Roller Rabbit jams for mini and micro. SO CUTE. There’s still time to order yours — Saks offers free fast shipping.
+These would be so cute for a backyard festivity. More backyard decor here.
By: Jen Shoop
As you may have gathered from yesterday’s post, attending to two children necessitates the cultivation of profound multitasking skills. (Can you feed one child with a bottle while buttoning the dress of another? Deter a toddler from jumping precariously close to the edge of the bed while pumping and shushing an infant? Etc.) I’m still figuring out how to pre-empt certain situations from brewing, and I know I’ll get there — it took me months to figure out how to walk our ebullient, strong Airedale while pushing a stroller through Central Park, but, I’ve learned, it’s all about a short leash and a sixth sense about what will attract her attention. (Also, a brisk — borderline breakneck — pace and occasional pep talks to myself.) I know I’ll come across similar strategies in the realm of child supervision. For those in similar shoes, a couple of things that have helped me to date as I navigate these foreign waters, and I’ll start first with things that have been helpful for the babes, and then move on to multi-tasking beauty and style finds:
+A door lock for our bedroom door. I want mini to feel welcome and invited to participate in the care of micro, and so I always invite her into the bed while I am nursing or snuggling micro. But. There is a time and place for everything and we were finding that she would often rush into our bedroom to check on her brother and inadvertently wake him up, or fling pillows all around our bedroom, or smear peanut butter and jelly fingers on my just-washed-and-ironed bedding. This enables us to prevent her from entering the room when we want her out by us. It’s inexpensive but smartly designed and less obtrusive than some of the other styles. (Still, an eyesore to be sure — but. Tradeoffs.) There’s even a “decoy” button that she routinely attempts to press, but she has not yet figured out how to unlock it — and I don’t think she will, as it takes substantial dexterity.
+A pacifier for micro. Mini used a Wubbanub for a short string of weeks and then tired of it. I’ve noticed that micro likes to nurse himself to sleep / use me to soothe instead of feed, a habit I want to nip in the bud before it takes too deep root. (How did I come to this conclusion? Because he’ll latch for a minute or two and then fall asleep and stay asleep. Or if he’s fussy for one reason or another he’ll want to go on the breast, and then he’ll calm down and doze — even if it’s just a few minutes after finishing a feeding session.) I’m testing out the pacifier and I have to say it has really helped with keeping him docile and asleep for longer stretches of time. I know pacifiers are polarizing among a lot of moms, but — every child is different and micro really craves the sucking motion, and I was finding that his “sleeping” cycles were always interrupted by fussy sessions where he’d either want to nurse for comfort or be rocked/held, and neither of those solutions were sustainable unless I wanted to be attached to him 24 hours of the day, so here we are. He’s liked the Wubbanub like his sister, and I also have this style with this pacifier clip in my diaper bag.
+It’s all about making things simple and efficient these days. So we have two bottle-making stations — one in our kitchen and one in our bedroom. For nighttime feeds, I pre-fill bottles with water and pre-apportion formula in one of these (also have one in my diaper bag) on my nightstand so I don’t even need to get out of bed. Micro is less particular about bottles/nipples than mini was, so we use a mix of these (my personal favorite because the wide “mouth” makes it easy to pour the powder formula in without spilling everywhere, and I’ve never run into a leaking issue), these, and these.
+I put together a bag of toys and activities for mini to use while sitting next to me during micro’s nursing sessions. That worked well for about two days — ha. She was really into this magnet set and these sticker sets in particular. Then she started tearing into them and scattering them all over the apartment and honestly I didn’t feel like it was a battle worth waging, attempting to enforce the fact that those were meant to be used “only while feeding baby brother.” So, now I often let her play with sending emojis to Mr. Magpie on my phone, which is endlessly entertaining to her, or offer her a snack and read to her right by her little activity table while I nurse. (It’s incredible how quickly you learn to breastfeed while doing other things / sitting in random spots.)
Meanwhile, some multi-tasking/life-simplifying items for this multi-tasking mom:
+I have been wearing a lot of Charlotte Tilbury’s Hollywood Flawless Filter. I dab it on over the top of my undereye concealer and tinted moisturizer, focusing on my under-eye areas, cheekbone, and the tip of my nose. I don’t know anything about contouring but this tends to make my face look a little brighter and more alive. (P.S. — This is in addition to my current everyday beauty routine.)
+Keeping everything in separate pouches so I can easily find what I’m looking for / transfer things quickly if I only have one child with me or no children (!! — has only happened like twice so far) with me when heading out the door. I use this for my own gear and wet/dry bags monogrammed for each child with spare diapers, changes of clothes, snacks, pacifiers, toys, etc.
+I really want to try this scalp shampoo and scrub in one. It looks promising for summer hair. In the meantime, I’ve been getting a ton of mileage out of my Lele Sadoughi headband collection. I especially love my denim one at the moment. And J.Crew has a cute dupe for under $30!
+In love with this gingham shirt — the shoulder detailing makes my heart sing! Also — nursing friendly, and would look adorable under a pair of white overalls or with some white skinnies.
+Wondering if the front of this shirt would accommodate a nursing mother…SO CUTE regardless.
+Speaking of nursing mother finds: this dress is kind of perfect. I’d wear it just as happily now as I would when I’m no longer breastfeeding. Chic and easy to wear with flats, slides, sandals, or even sneakers, appropriate for any circumstance, and just as easy to wear at age 22 as at age 82.
+Mr. Magpie gave me a beautiful Hermes scarf the day before I went into the hospital to have our son. He picked a print with personal significance and said too many kind things to me, and I still tear up when I have a minute to think back on it. A few hours later, my mother arrived in New York and gave me one of her own favorite Hermes scarves — one with peonies on it, which bears a personal kind of symbology in our mother-daughter relationship. And so I have been wearing a lot of Hermes scarves lately and I love that they can transform a ho-hum look into something extraordinary. I often throw it on over my shoulders when I’m wearing leggings and a cardigan over a nursing tank, or a simple tee-dress. I’ve written about this before, but these Tuckernuck scarves are a great buy for a lot less if you want that Hermes look without the price tag!
P.S. I promise not all posts will be on the subject of motherhood and life with two kids — but it’s all that’s on my mind right now. Bear with me!
By: Jen Shoop
There is so much to process — too much to process? — since the birth of my son nearly three weeks (!) ago, and life feels blurry and full and unwieldy and happy and overwhelming in both the good and scary ways. I have it on good authority from several mom friends that the entire first year as a mother to two is a wild ride, and that it’s difficult to get your bearings or attain any semblance of order for a long while. I’m beginning to understand what they have meant. The other morning, I woke with a splitting headache but could not find a pocket of time to grab myself Advil for over an hour. This may seem like an incredible exaggeration or eye-roll-worthy example of self-martyring, but I can assure you it was neither of those things. It was the routine and yet somehow frenzied cycle of feeding, burping, changing micro while chatting and negotiating with mini and also shepherding a dog in and out of rooms, balancing poopy diapers with a squirmy baby and the miscellaneous stickers and dollbabies that wind up in my pockets, kicking laundry into a pile on the floor, attempting to eat a bite of banana while wiping grimy yogurt-covered fingers off of micro’s bassinet and ensuring mini doesn’t hang off the edge of it as she so often does, causing it to teeter precariously to one side…!
The old dance of motherhood, in other words.
I keep thinking about the many Magpie mothers whose babies have grown up and who now tell me that they look back on these snuggly but chaotic moments of newbornhood with nothing but fondness and heartache. I therefore know — know! — I will miss this mayhem one day when life is quieter and so I am attempting to look at the entire situation with perspective and acceptance, and though I often fall short (ahem, our bed!), it grounds me to continue to return to those voices urging me to drink it all up in big, thirsty gulps. Mr. Magpie tends to be better at this than I, but — such is the way with most things between us, and I draft off of his success anyhow.
I felt unmitigated joy — glee, really — in the hours and days immediately after Hill was born. I felt better prepared for the c-section this go around and so was able to focus more of my emotional energy on him rather than the scary and unanticipated details of a c-section that I grappled with when mini was born. Recovery is not fun, but it’s been far more manageable this time, and I’ve been more distracted besides.
Caring for a newborn feels like second nature. His squawks and grunts are less anxiety-inducing, and I feel far calmer and more confident. I am disappointed I have an undersupply of milk again this time, although this discovery has made me feel less guilty about my experiencing breastfeeding mini — I had always thought my ineptitude during the first few days of attempting to nurse her had led to my chronic undersupply. Now I know that this is just how my body is built, and that supplementing with formula is a biological necessity rather than the result of an error of some kind on my part. But more on that another day. The point is that I knew what to do and was less emotional about all of the breastfeeding travails this time — and I enjoy nursing him, truly, even though feeding him often takes well north of forty-five minutes because he always needs a bottle of formula after.
But truly. Hill is heaven. I have passed many stretches of time staring at him, preening him, swooning over his every squirm. I love the way he puckers his lips and occasionally open-mouth smiles while sleeping. I love his furrowed brow. I love to brush his hair and laugh at his “little finance bro” look. I love his awkward and uncoordinated movements, the brief windows during which he is alert and confused and engaged at the cacophony of sound and smell and sight that constitutes the 1,000 square feet we call his home. (Oh, Louise.)
The more challenging part of this transition has been adapting to splitting my attention between two children. I have been more composed during these postpartum weeks than I was during the ones immediately after mini’s birth, a discovery I attribute largely to the fact that I did not take any intense painkillers after this c-section (motrin and tylenol — no narcotics) and that I was better prepared in general for this birth — but the handful of weeping sessions I’ve had have entirely centered upon my difficulty accepting the changes in my relationship with mini. Oh, my heart breaks and my eyes well up as I type this. I hear her wailing “Mamaaa” from her crib in the morning and cannot go to her because I am often mid-nursing micro, and cannot lift her from her crib anyway owing to the c-section incision anyhow. She often patters into the bedroom to say hello in the mornings, asking what I’m doing and reporting in on whatever activity she’s undertaking with Mr. Magpie. I sometimes find myself brushing tears away as she totters off, remembering how just a few weeks ago, I would stroll into her room with a cheerful “Good morning, angel!” to draw her blinds and pass her a sippy cup of milk, and we’d engage in the same handful of conversations, about the color of her sippy cup, about the Maileg mouse that had fallen on the floor overnight, or about the bee or butterfly she thought she saw in her room. (There was a stretch of two weeks where she talked incessantly about bees and butterflies in her room — she was scared of them, and we’d constantly reassure her they wouldn’t hurt her and that there weren’t any in there besides.) Now I often do not see her until she’s midway through breakfast and — as irrational as all of this sounds — it pains me, deeply, not to be caring for her in those small and motherly ways every morning. I selfishly want myself to be the first face she sees, the first hug she gets, the first conversation she has. It has been too abrupt a shift to being her part-time caretaker. She doesn’t understand why I can’t lift her to change her diaper, or place her in her crib, despite my best attempts to explain the cut on my stomach. She doesn’t get why I can’t immediately grab her hand to investigate the Lego tower she’s built because I am in the midst of soothing micro or changing his diaper or trying to shovel a bite of oatmeal in my mouth during an odd moment of calm. I find myself in a position of self-reproach when I decide to take the time to shower or make the bed instead of sitting down beside her to read to her or to compliment her drawing skills. I know that caring for myself is a part of maintaining a sense of perspective and calm, but my heart aches every night as I undertake a cruel kind of self-accounting, tallying up all the minutes I could have spent with her but chose to pass tidying or taking a minute to scroll through my emails or what have you. It has been tough. For two years, I was her world and she was mine, and now things have changed forever.
I re-read this and the rational part of me says: “Tsk, tsk. This is a brief season of life. You are doing the best you can. Millions of people have multiple children and everyone survives. You are being overly fussy, irrational. All is fine.”
Mhm.
Meanwhile, the emotive part of me weeps.
I trust that things will get easier, or more balanced, in this regard, especially once I am able to lift her again, and am a bit further out of the newborn haze and can afford to spend more one-on-one time with her. I have been able to find a few evenings where micro has been sleeping for a solid hour or two so I can just sit and read with her, or play with her Mailegs. Those stretches of time have been beautiful and reassuring.
But until the dust settles (will it settle?), I am here, both radiant with joy to have my Hill in my arms and aching with longing for my girl.
Post Scripts.
+I have been using and loving the Baby Bjorn mini. I feel like most carriers try to do too much — you can carry your child in 34 ways! and it doubles as a backpack! A car! A shopping cart! — but this one is designed straight-forwardly to enable you to carry your newborn baby. The front completely unsnaps, making it easy to get him in out, and I feel like all the clasps and straps are easy to use/adjust with one hand. Genius.
+J. Crew now carries Minnow swim. Mini already has several suits for this summer, but I want to buy her this one and coordinate with this bow.
+I still think the Bravado nursing bra is the best on the market. I know there are a lot of Coobie fans, and I do think it’s exceptionally comfortable, but I find the cups are hard to unfasten with one hand, which bothers me. I’m intrigued by these nursing bralettes from Lively. Super pretty and the neckline seems like a welcome departure from the higher neckline styles on all my other nursing bras.
+Mini just outgrew all of her shoes — and now I am finding myself needing to restock her footwear. I started by ordering her this pair of washed canvas Cientas in the pink. I like that they involve no laces or velcro! Maisonette has a few colors on sale, too. I may also buy her the t-strap style in navy (on sale!) — we had these in red last summer and they were so cute. A perfect style to wear with easy cotton dresses so she can run around easily but still look put-together. Also swooning over these for mini!
+This dress looks like the only thing I want to wear right now. Unclear whether it would work with nursing. It might? But, the bra situation is a puzzle…maybe would have been better as a maternity find.
+Speaking of dresses — I get dressed (often in many of the pieces I mentioned here) every day from head to toe, accessories included, and it makes me feel like a human. But by around 3 PM, I cannot wait to be wearing just a robe. It’s exhausting unbuttoning and rebuttoning and rearranging layers and negotiating with a nursing cover or swaddle or burp cloth. UGH. I just started pumping after daytime feeds to help with supply and it’s adding a whole extra layer of logistical complexity when it comes to dressing. I feel like I’m just constantly dressing, undressing, buttoning, unbuttoning, clasping, unclasping. AH. If it didn’t make me feel like such a schlub, I’d love to wear my uber-soft Eberjey robe 24-7 (I own it in the pink, but the black is on sale and far more practical anyway — I’ve already kind of destroyed my Eberjey one with nipple cream stains, which I did not know would happen!) Also eyeing this open-front robe, which seems like an easy solution when paired with a nursing tank and leggings for days spent at home.
+I’ve always been a fan of traditional swaddles — I tried a few of the velcro and zippered contraptions with mini and found that the velcro often woke her and that they were more complicated than helpful — but I am very intrigued by the Ollie swaddle after a few of you have recommended it. (And the reviews…!)
+Stopped into the Monica + Andy store on the UWS the other day — the CUTEST prints. Sometimes they’re a little too twee (?) or hipster (??) for my taste, but they’ve got lots of darling styles in right now. Love this.
+Unrelated to children: I love this skirt. I want to wear it with a gauzy white blouse or a simple white tank and my Hermes sandals.
+I had a lot of questions about a onesie/footie that micro was wearing the other day on Instastories — it’s Roller Rabbit’s heart print. I have several pairs by this brand for him and mini, too — the softest cotton and the cutest prints! I kind of want to buy this print for the fourth of july. A last minute splurge.
By: Jen Shoop
Currently, lusting after a ton of little white dresses (and also cream ones, AHEM, but mainly crisp, stark, summer-ready white). The stunning dress seen above is by Viktor & Rolf, but below — a few more budget-friendly and accessible styles I’m drooling over:
My Latest Snag: The $28 SZ Blockprints Caftan Dupe.
I mentioned this on Insta and in yesterday’s post, but this $28 caftan is pretty darn good. For those who have asked me — I’d say it runs true to size, maybe a little big (though aren’t all caftans by nature voluminous?), and the front plaquet runs just low enough to make it possible to breastfeed in it, though that could be because I’m short (5’0). (Unfortunately, my go-to SZ Blockprints caftans are not nursing-friendly.)
I wrote recently about making time to read, and how I’ve had to gradually overcome the powerful appeal of completion desire in order to set aside books that quagmire me. An exchange on that post with one of my loyal readers (heiii MK) left me thinking about the fact that I grapple with completion desire in other areas of my life, too — and that maybe I should figure out how to loosen the reins elsewhere.
For context, completion desire is a phrase I picked up while overseeing the design of a smartphone app intended to drive healthy financial habits among low-income teens through gamification. (This now feels like another life. More on my squiggly career path here.) Some of the game design experts with which I consulted introduced me to fascinating concepts like “leveling up,” “completion desire,” and various forms of reward and enemy design. It was startling to see how deeply game designers think about human psychology and the dynamics of risk, reward, progress — and how much these considerations revealed to me about how I tick. Accordingly, I’ve pocketed a lot of these phrases and applied them elsewhere in my life as usefully illustrative constructs. Completion desire or completion bias is one of them; HBR defined it well here:
“Human brains are wired to seek completion and the pleasure it brings — a tendency we term completion bias…finishing immediate, mundane tasks actually improves your ability to tackle tougher, important things. Your brain releases dopamine when you achieve goals. And since dopamine improves attention, memory, and motivation, even achieving a small goal can result in a positive feedback loop that makes you more motivated to work harder going forward.”
Parenting — especially the nurturing of a newborn — flies in the face of completion desire, as everyday tasks and activities are often interrupted by the wants and needs of my little ones, and interrupting a chore is often the safest, best path forward for them (and thus for us all). This has been a constant source of frustration for me, to be honest. I have found myself bizarrely obsessed by the state of our bed, for example. I compulsively make our bed every morning; it marks the official start of the day and leaving it un-made feels something like leaving my front door wide open. I’m uncomfortable — exposed? — until it’s done. But these days, I often need to wait until well after the day is underway to get it done, often because I necessarily prioritize washing my face and brushing my teeth over making the bed in the small pockets of time I find to myself. And then, once the bed is made, I am constantly re-making it throughout the day, as it’s my usual nesting spot for nursing Hill, and I’ve made it clear that Emory is always welcome to join me in the bed with her little bundle of activities while I’m doing so. This often means that she flings our pillows on the ground and musses the sheets, and it drives my Type A self crazy. And then I chastise myself for dwelling on such a ridiculous inanity. Who cares if the bed is mussed?! I’m here with my little family, figuring things out, and all is happy and healthy! The entire tumble of emotions here has made me pause and ponder how I can detach myself from my completion bias in the home.
Any other Magpies out there finding that completion bias is getting in the way? How did you overcome it?
Blast from the Past: Are You a Thought Leader or a Thought Follower?
“I listened to an otherwise unremarkable podcast the other day (#savage) in which the interviewee commented: “I am not a thought leader. But I am a very good thought follower.”
How honest and how lovely, I thought — first, to know oneself well enough to make such a pronouncement, and second, to perceive that thought followership can be a skill, too. It implies receptivity, an aptitude for listening. Open ears, a willing mind: beautiful things.
Am I thought follower or a thought leader, I wonder? Thought leader feels too grand for self-appointment, and I don’t see myself as a person of extreme conviction anyway. Yes, I have strongly held values and beliefs and opinions, but I am also impressionable and can change my mind over time. Further, I’m not the type to proselytize. (Except for when it comes to the glen plaid blazer you need RN. HA.) I’m far more comfortable moderating a conversation than I am standing on a dais.
But there is something else. I find that my way of understanding the world is by way of pastiche. My thoughts often dance around from input to input: a tidbit from a movie, an image from an Instastory, the purple-gray quiet of Central Park at night, a turn of phrase from a book, that mohair sweater on Jenny Walton during Fashion Week. I collect these breadcrumbs throughout the day and then spread them out in front of me and find the path between them.
Maybe I am neither follower nor leader, but a kind of wayfinder between the two.
What about you? Thought follower? Thought leader? Or neither?”
+Found the sweetest Paris-based Etsy shop that specializes in the most gorgeous bonnets and bloomers for little ones.
+Would love a few of these for Hill’s nursery, whenever we move.
+Currently eyeing one of these 9Seed cover-up dresses for putzing around the house — it looks sufficiently loose for a postpartum, nursing-dominated me. Should I spring for the striped one? It’s so me…
+A lovely Polo sale raging right now — extra 30% off! I am eyeing these relaxed-fit pants for Mr. Magpie. He owns nothing like them and is borderline allergic to athleisure (he actually did yardwork in polo shirts — I’m not kidding), but I think might come in handy as a father-to-two hitting up the playground circuit most weekend mornings. Also love this iconic button-down in the chili pepper red.
+Why are there so many darling children’s suits out right now?! Ahh! Love this two-piece set from Marysia. Could this be mini’s first bikini?
+Looking for some lawn toys and sprinklers for mini in the Hamptons. We must take full advantage! Any recs? Eyeing this one.
A couple of scattershot thoughts on things I have been loving in these two weeks since micro was born.
+I bought this Aesop hand cream the day before micro was born as a little treat for myself in the hospital and am obsessed! The scent and texture are heaven.
+I have been watching Schitt’s Creek, Russian Doll, and David Letterman’s My Next Guest Needs No Introduction during late-night feeds. Wonderful company, all three. Russian Doll is quirky and dark but interesting (and produced/co-written by Amy Poehler), Schitt’s Creek is hilarious, and I am finding all of the Letterman interviews fascinating — especially the one with Tina Fey. She holds her own.
+I traded in those *elegant* hospital mesh underwear for these high-waisted postpartum ones and they are so comfortable (love the elasticized lace waistband) and surprisingly non-hideous. Highly recommend for fellow c-section moms.
+I have an undersupply of milk again so I have been eating tons of oatmeal, eating these, and drinking lots of fenugreek tea. And chugging as much water as I can stand in my favorite water bottle. (The sports nozzle makes it so easy to drink with one hand and prevents spills!) I’m so glad we stocked up on these stage one Philips Avent bottles and this formula so we were prepared. This go around, we made sure to buy tons of bottles so we’d never be stuck hand-washing at the last minute.
+Having major baby bag lust over this utility tote from new-to-me label L’Uniform. Love all of the options for customization (!!) — I think I’d get the navy canvas with white trim and white monogram on the side, or maybe the natural canvas with white trim? Love.
+Though I wrote an entire post on what to wear while nursing, I kind of forgot to think about the awkward time immediately after giving birth where literally nothing fits. I’m too small for maternity clothes (and don’t want to accentuate a bump…) and too big for pre-pregnancy. Also, everything needs to be nursing-friendly. I’ve been getting a lot of wear out of this floral beauty, my Storq caftan, and my Sleeper dress. I also just ordered this $28 SZ Blockprints-lookalike after seeing a bunch of fellow bloggers post about it, as it appears to button down lower than the SZ ones, which makes them impossible to nurse in (will report back on quality and nursing access). I ordered it in the pink color as I already have a ton of blue in my closet, but I think my favorite colorway for this style is the blue on blue one. Finally, I have my eye on this gorgeous (discounted!) maxi (more of a pull-down style for nursing, which looks gloriously forgiving and would look super chic with my Newbark sandals — on serious sale!), this floaty cover-up to wear around the house, and this adorable Banjanan dress. And I’m also wondering whether this tunic-style SZ Blockprints dress has a low-enough button front to accommodate nursing…
+At night, I have been living in these nursing nightgowns, my favorite Cosabella maternity jammies (great for during pregnancy and after), and my Eberjey robe (I own it in the pale pink). I have to say that switching into my own soft robe (and, on day three, my own nursing nightgown instead of the hospital gown) at the hospital made me feel so much more human, and I was so glad I had both on hand.
+In general, I packed well for the hospital (I especially loved these individually-wrapped toning pads, which I used the first 24 hours to clean my face when it was hard to get out of the hospital bed; a plain old bar of Dove body soap, which smelled like heaven to me during my first shower; my trusty 8-hour cream, as my lips were so dry!; and this cream). My only regret: I wish I had packed more snacks for myself — the hospital food was disgusting and I ended up spending the second two nights on my own (sent Mr. Magpie back to our apartment both so he could sleep and so mini had more of a sense of continuity) and often woke up ravenously hungry. If I could do it again, I would pack saltines/crackers, some of these single serve peanut butter pouches, and some fruit (apples, bananas, etc).
+With micro in our room until we move, quarters are tight. We have this striped Gathre changing mat to use for changing at the foot of our bed and space in one of the window-sills for all of his diapering essentials. I have my eye on this to better organize this — wipes, diapers, creams, vitamin D, brush, nail scissors, etc.
+Janie + Jack has so many precious things available right now. I’m so glad it was bought out by Gap (did you see it almost went under and disappeared and Gap white knighted at the last minute?!). I have my eye on this one-piece, this kimono set, these swim trunks, this collared situation, and these saddle crib shoes. And this would be so sweet for mini on the fourth. Also — have my eye on these as a gift for friends having baby girls in the near future. So darling!
+OMG THIS SUIT. It’s splash pad season in NYC! I do usually put mini in a rashguard to keep her skin safer (and it’s so hard to get a toddler to sit still while rubbing sunscreen on her…), and I love the ones from Minnow (more styles, with free shipping!, here). Also ordering her this adorable peplum style from Amazon.
+I have been finding micro often pees through his pajamas and swaddle at night — !! — and it took me awhile to figure out that it was a combination of folding the diaper down around his umbilical cord and not having his anatomy pointed in the right direction, if you get my drift…and so I have been doing a lot of laundry and spending a lot of time evaluating the merits and demerits of various swaddles. I am absolutely in love with the scent and quality of this baby detergent and honestly have yet to find a swaddle that is better than Aden + Anais’. There are literally hundreds of swaddle brands out there, many of them cheaper than A+A, but the muslin is thicker and stretchier and all around better with the Aden + Anais classics (and I’ve probably tried half a dozen other brands). Strongly endorse A+A even though there are others out there with cuter prints. I know a lot of moms have better luck with the velcro/zip swaddle styles, but we’ve always loved plain old fabric swaddles in our home. If you’re the same way, stick with A+A.
+Drinking a glass of wine at happy hour is heaven.
Landon Hill Shoop, Jr. was born at 8:49 a.m. on Friday, May 31st. (We are calling him “Hill.”)
Even though I make a living writing, the intensity of the experience of hearing his first cries is beyond words. Beyond comprehension, beyond expression, beyond beyond beyond. But it was something like elation, heartache, relief, shock, awe–and I will never recover from it, in a good way. Life and the way I carry it in my heart has permanently changed shape.
Blessedly, I was not shaking as violently as I had been during Emory’s birth via c-section, and so I was able to hold onto Hill a few minutes after he was born, after Mr. Magpie placed his little body right up next to my face and while the doctors completed the c-section. He was quiet and squirmy and his little mouth found its way to my cheek and though he was probably rooting around for milk, or my smell–it felt like kisses. A hundred little kisses on my cheek. I cannot even think about that moment (or that stretch of moments — time seemed to warp) without weeping. Ten months of waiting, all the agony and discomfort and anxiety over his pregnancy and his birth, all the fear around the c-section — and there he was, loving on me.
A big part of the emotional enormity of that morning was Mr. Magpie — his calm, solicitous presence at my side, squeezing my hand, locking eyes with me, saying nothing but holding my entire world together while I tried my damnedest to get through the 15 minutes of tugging and pulling and odd sensations until Hill was born. When they brought Mr. Magpie into the operating room after the anaesthesiologists put in the spinal, the beep-beep-beep on my heart monitor nearly doubled in speed. “Uh oh,” laughed the doctor. But the moment was tender rather than comedic. Somehow seeing myself on the table through Mr. Magpie’s eyes, laid out and ready to give birth to our son, nearly broke my heart. I could read the anxiety and empathy and gratitude on his face, and I was so overwhelmed by the intensity of the imminent birth of our son with Mr. Magpie at my side, I felt like my heart was going to jump out of my chest. I will never forget the way I felt when he walked into that OR, or the look on his face during the procedure, or the expression of exhausted triumph and relief he wore when they wheeled us back to the recovery room. Because it was love. And there was something beautifully reaffirming about our relationship as husband and wife in that OR and in the hours and days since.
The last ten days, I have been living on heartstrings. There have been happy tears and overwhelmed tears and a few exhausted tears but mainly there have been gleeful smiles, the sweetest moments of siblinghood, and the biggest sighs of relief.
I will eventually write more about his delivery (blessedly different from and far more positive than the first c-section) and the recovery (also blessedly different from and smoother than the first) and the transition into a family of four, but for now, as I sit here with Hill laying beside me in my bed, I’m going to soak up these fleeting moments of newbornhood…
Thank you for all of your delicious words of encouragement, support, and love. xoxo
By: Jen Shoop
Chintz has been a major trend in fashion and interior design the last several years, shedding its formerly English countryside stodgy vibe for something that feels more like feminine nostalgia. I’m into it. I love in particular accessories like the slides shown above from Tabitha Simmons (on sale for 50% off!). A couple of other points of inspiration:
Tory Burch’s Home.Emilia Wickstead. (A variation on this dress is currently on sale.)Lee Radziwill’s Former Apartment.LoveShackFancy — dress on sale here!Rita Konig. Love how she mixes chintz wallpaper with D. Porthault’s iconic coeurs bedding.Hanna Seabrook’s home, using Lee Jofa’s Althea chintz. Get a throw pillow in the fabric here.
A quick FYI — you can score an extra 25% off all sale items at Shopbop with code SCORE19 starting now! A few items I’ve been eyeing that are in my basket…
P.P.S. Some great new arrivals at J. Crew today. I ordered this…because, y’know, blockprints.
By: Jen Shoop
Four stars. In the forw0rd to these notebooks from a trip Didion took to the South in the summer of 1970, Nathaniel Rich writes: “Didion’s notes, which surpass in elegance and clarity the finished prose of most other writers, are a fascinating record of this time. But they are also something more unsettling. Readers today will recognize, with some dismay and even horror, how much is familiar in these long-lost American portraits.” I agree heartily with the first observation: even in draft, scattershot, off-the-cuff observational mode, Didion’s writing is more piquant, evocative, and well-put than prose to which the rest of us dreamily aspire. Behold the precision and breadth of such impressions as: “In New Orleans, the wilderness is sensed as very near, not the redemptive wilderness of the western imagination but something rank and old and malevolent, the idea of wilderness not as an escape from civilization and its discontents but as a mortal threat to a community precarious and colonial in its deepest aspect.” The quality of her discernment is unparalleled in any other writer I have to date encountered.
But the second bit I grappled with. Didion notes early on that she has long held certain conceptions and constructions of the South whose origins are dubious — snippets of memories, impressions gleaned from pop culture. And so she travels south to “find out, as usual, what was making the picture in my mind” (a phrase I underlined and returned to with fresh marveling at least six times). I admire her mission: she travels directly to the root to observe and unpack and, if appropriate, unseat her presumptions. However, I felt frequently throughout the journals and also as I sat back and mused over the context for their publication now, in 2018, of all years, that I was being tugged towards certain anti-Southern biases. “How bizarre and backwards,” was the subtext (at its most genteel)–a difficult one to dispute given the range of vignettes Didion presents, ones showcasing dark and despicable racist traditions to sickening gender slurs. The book in this sense seemed to have an agenda: to remind its readers of the recalcitrant backwardness of the South. Didion at one point writes: “The isolation of these people from the currents of American life in 1970 was startling and bewildering to behold. All their information was fifth-hand, and mythicized in the handing down.” Rich’s foreword states outright what its publication intimates on this front: “Not much has changed.”
I idle over this not so much from a “is this true or not?” vantage but from a “what are we achieving by burrowing into such regionalisms”? Constructing some kind of coastal elite — the enlightened liberati of the West Coast versus the retrogressive dullards of the South? Where do such distinctions land us?
But then — it is not for Didion to propose solutions and so perhaps my concerns are misplaced. She is a keen observationalist and journalist, an incisive observer of the times. But I will admit to wondering at the rifts that are deepened in the publication and reading of this book.
Perhaps this was the book’s intent, though: to put in front of us the stark topography of social, economic, and political difference between regions in this country.
For our July Magpie book club pick: I am going rogue. We’re reading a YA novel: Nicola Yoon’s The Sun Is Also a Star. This book won substantial praise (and several prestigious awards) and, as I mentioned in a recent post, my sister — whose literary tastes normally run higher brow than my own — admitted that it is on her reading list this summer, too. The premise:
“Natasha: I’m a girl who believes in science and facts. Not fate. Not destiny. Or dreams that will never come true. I’m definitely not the kind of girl who meets a cute boy on a crowded New York City street and falls in love with him. Not when my family is twelve hours away from being deported to Jamaica. Falling in love with him won’t be my story.
Daniel: I’ve always been the good son, the good student, living up to my parents’ high expectations. Never the poet. Or the dreamer. But when I see her, I forget about all that. Something about Natasha makes me think that fate has something much more extraordinary in store—for both of us.
The Universe: Every moment in our lives has brought us to this single moment. A million futures lie before us. Which one will come true?”
I feel this will be substantive fodder for conversation. And go.
+A friend gave me one of these house-brand baby towels from Nordstrom and I have to say it was the thickest, most absorbent baby towel I used for mini — I always reached for it over every other brand I tried (including PBK!)
+Adore the back of this dress, and that brown linen color is so unexpected!
I feature a lot of pricy picks but in all honesty split my purchases between bargain finds and investments. Below, twelve incredibly stylish finds for under $120:
