We’re heading to FL in February, and it’s been fun planning mini’s warm-weather wardrobe (and imagining what micro might wear). A few of my favorite finds below:
+I finally broke and went crazy on the La Coqueta sale now that prices are up to 60% off. I had to have this gingham dress in particular, which will be coming with us to Naples.
+These are my favorite towels for mini in the summer. Super compact/lightweight so I can stow in my diaper bag on the off chance we wind up at the splash pad.
You turn 37 today and you are not happy about it, but but but —
I look at you and I see the life we have built together with all of its nasty, crooked jags and its tender, fortunate mercies. I see in your eyes the weight and joy of recent years, borne equally.
Of the many things I love about you (and there are so, so many), lately, I have found myself leaning particularly intensively on your uncanny ability to simplify things. You look at a problem and see only solutions. You do not permit yourself to wallow in the agonies of indecision or woe-is-me or why-is-this-happening for long. Instead, you assess and move swiftly toward resolution. You’re not into funny business or sleight of hand or roundabout curlicues; you are straight-forward, direct, your reasoning abilities razor sharp, your moral compass better tuned than the engine of a sports car.
I envy the simplicity with which you live your life, and I draft off of its elegance. When I come to you with a concern or an aspiration or an observation, your calm, logical energy makes me feel at once in good hands and eminently capable myself.
Thank you for cutting such a handsome shape, in this arena and across countless others.
Onward we go, full throttle.
P.S. I still feel all the jitters when I think about seeing you in Lyon when we were just babies.
P.P.S. “Half of me sees the smile wrinkles in the corners of your eyes, the graying hair, the distinguished look you’ve cultivated with age — physical reminders of the very full, though not without struggle, life we’ve lived thus far together — and the other half sees the boy in the olive green shirt that brought out the hazel of his eyes when we were just kids.” More on how much I love you here.
P.P.P.S. Some of my innermost fears about remaining interesting to you have long since been disproven, THANK GOD.
Mr. Magpie’s Birthday Loot.
We don’t always go big for holidays/birthdays — sometimes it’s a smallish affair and other times we go all out. It was a go-all-out kind of year for him. He worked hard this year — professionally and personally — and I am so proud of him. In addition to burgers at Minetta Tavern to mark the occasion, I also snagged the following gifts:
+Inspired by the TV show Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat, I bought him this fancy soy sauce (he loves sushi and I think this will bring the experience to a new level) and this high-end seaweed salt, which people go nuts over (and is featured on the show).
+While in Charlottesville for our little two-day trip, Mr. Magpie enjoyed his fair share of cocktails. He’s into old school ones like the Bijou, the Aviation, the Vieux Carre, and the Last Word. He mixes a lot of old-fashioneds at home and it dawned on me, while watching the bartenders mix drinks, that while we have a pretty elaborate set of barware utensils, Mr. Magpie does not have a proper cocktail pitcher and tends to mix his in a shaker (even when it’s a stirred cocktail). I ordered him one of these along with this highly well-reviewed “vintage cocktail” book (he already has a few in his library, but Garden & Gun raved about this particular one).
+Not truly a birthday gift, but Mr. Magpie recently cut his hair really short — “like Matt Lauer, if Matt Lauer weren’t a perv” is how I’ve been describing it. I love it on him; he looks younger and more athletic. He’d been debating it for nearly two years and then, on New Year’s Day, he announced that it was his new year’s resolution, went downtown to a barber, and cut it all off. I was so proud of him. It takes big guts for a dude to buzz his head. Anyway, I’ve now become his personal barberette (?). We bought this (again, very well-reviewed) to keep his short hair on point every two or three weeks.
+Mr. Magpie lives in his J. Brand Kane jeans. They are slim-cut but not skinny; Mr. Magpie is not a skinny jean kind of guy. They hold up ultra-well in the wash and with the hard way in which men wear all clothes. So a new pair were in order.
+Mr. Magpie’s big gift was a Canada Goose Langford coat. I should have bought him one back when we lived in the arctic midwest, but it’s been chilly in these parts, too. I don’t care if everyone and their mother owns a Canada Goose — it’s with good reason. These coats are the warmest, best-made parkas known to man. Sometimes I see him head out the door when it’s 22 degrees outside in just his Barbour coat and I think, “Oh hell no!” This solves the problem.
On my way to meet up with a friend a few weeks ago, I found myself involved in a curious kind of internal pep talk.
“Just be yourself,” I said. “Don’t fill the void with the vapid. If there’s a lull, let it hang. Stick to your guns; be yourself. You don’t need to be agreeable to be agreeable.”
As I raced off, I realized that maybe — just maybe — I had outgrown the friendship a little bit. Or that we were a mismatch for one another at this stage in our life. Or that she had changed and I had not, or vice versa, and there was a bizarre kind of gap forming in which our friendship had gone from easy-to-navigate to a bit tempestuous.
You see, I have found our conversations strained lately. Perhaps (hopefully?) not perceptibly to her, I find myself hopscotching to avoid certain topics that we do not see eye to eye on and that frankly drain me. And I’m not referring to meaty topics in which critical debate is educative; this is not a case where I only want to hear what I want to hear. Rather, I find her interests and observations so thoroughly different from my own that I find myself repeating small meaningless affirmatives in the absence of returning anything substantive: “Oh wow, that’s great. Great. Oh interesting. Hm. Oh. Interesting. Oh wow.” Vapid volley that leaves me yearning for stimulation elsewhere.
I’m not talking about a bad friendship, by the way — one that needs to be broken up or abandoned because it is too damaging. (And I have thoughts on that, too.) I’m talking about a friendship where I catch myself performing its intimacies and find myself more depleted than fulfilled.
But then I second-guessed myself. Relationships are not always breezy little jaunts. You wear your heart on your sleeve and so it is bound to get bruised and prodded and strained from time to time. You grow and change and she grows and changes and so too does your relationship, and sometimes you need to afford it the space to let it become what it becomes. Maybe we are in the midst of an evolution into a different kind of relationship, one whose meetings are fewer and further between and only of a certain sort. And that’s fine, too.
What’s more: when you care about someone, you hang in.
What do you think, magpies? Have you ever found yourself engaging in personal pep talks before meeting up with a friend? Is this healthy or non-healthy? What’s the prognosis for this friendship?
Post-Scripts: Things I Love from Amazon.
Below, thought I’d share some of my favorite recent Amazon finds, many of which I’ve featured in the past. These are RLY good finds.
+These pillows have improved sleep in our home. I used to find myself waking up to flip and fluff my pillow 2-3 times a night. These hold their shape well and do not get hot (?!?!?!?)
+Mini loves her broom/mop set, and I love that it’s not a plastic eyesore and that it’s modeling the art of cleaning up! (Also, it stores upright and therefore takes up virtually no space in our apartment. #manhattanproblems)
+I was like 23 years late to the micellar water game, but now I’m a lifelong convert. I like Bioderma’s — it’s gentle, affordable, and effective.
+An affordable, machine-washable kitchen rug. I toss it in the laundry along with dish towels every few days. (Around the same time I put my sponge through the dishwasher.)
+This was a must-have solution for the tangle of cords at my bedside: one for the monitor, one for the Kindle charger, one for the lamp, one for the iPhone charger, and — recently — one for the humidifier. (People are very polarized by humidifiers, I have come to learn, but I love mine and think it has helped in these dry winter months, and especially as I’ve gotten over the hump of a nasty cold.) I like the cube power strip because it has such a tiny footprint, is easy to access, and is a little less unsightly than a traditional strip, but I will say I wish it had a little more heft to it, as it will tip over unless I have positioned it carefully, which irks me.
+These are the best forks for mini right now. Super cheap and super durable and they actually enable her to spear her food. A lot of the other brands I’ve tried (Skip Hop, etc) just act like spoons.
+I have a stash of different Scout bags in different shapes and sizes and find they come in endless handy — whether tossed into a suitcase to serve as a makeshift tote for carrying things to the pool or stowing laundry or toys, as a slightly nicer way of toting snacks/food to a gathering, as a temporary receptacle for things to donate/take down to the storage unit/organize for storage.
+My favorite water bottle for mini. Ultra-durable, super cute patterns, do not spill, and hold a lot of water. Great for taking out with us on adventures around the city.
+I blanch to think how many bumps and tumbles this has prevented in mini’s life.
+The easiest way to lure mini into her bath when she’s not having any of it. Me: “Do you want to put color in the water?” Her: [Pause. Then dropping of toys and padding of feet.] SHE LOVES THEM. I let her pick out two tablets each bath time and it’s magic for her. My only question: why God why did they make a yellow color, so that bathwater looks like urine?!
+If I sing their praises one more time, y’all might kill me, but these keep every drawer and medicine cabinet shelf in our home immaculate.
+As every mom knows, these are the best shoes for summertime in the city. Mini can wear them in splashpads and puddles and look just as chic with them in a little dress.
+My bar is never without fun cocktail napkins. Currently loving these, a nod to magpies 🙂
+Cannot rave enough about this ultra-lightweight, fluid sunscreen. When it arrived, I was shocked at how small the bottle was, but a little bit lasts a long time AND WORKS. It glides on underneath makeup and never leaves a residue.
+Gifted Mr. Magpie a set of these produce bags in his stocking and love them. Much better for storing produce than in those non-breathable plastic bags you get at the grocery and better for the environment. Can be tossed in the laundry! I really like how they keep our produce drawer tidy and easy to navigate. “I want an apple — just look for the bag with the red cord.” Genius!
+We use this mat all the time in our house. A great stress reliever and solid at working out knots/aching bones.
+Just discovered that Windex comes in wipe form and and and they make me SO HAPPY. We have mirrored side tables in our bedroom and I’m constantly telling myself “go get the windex and clean them down!” and then getting distracted. Now I keep these in my bedside table and wipe them down the minute I think of it. It’s a great day to be alive, people.
+Still learning from this experience (even over a month out — it was an interesting test in humility to get used to wearing the scar without a steri-strip on it) and leaning into prayer lately.
Shop Le Post.
By: Jen Shoop
My Latest Snag: The Hatch Maternity Dress.
I have never ordered any maternity clothing from Hatch, though it’s been abuzz for a long time. I always presumed it was for tall, willowy types who could pull off the voluminous slouch of the label’s styling. But when this Sylvie dress (seen above, worn by the founder of Hatch) went on sale just in time for our vacation next month, I jumped on it. And now I’m down a dark hole and also have this and these in my cart, figuring I’ll get decent use out of warmer weather maternity clothing given that I’m delivering in late May and will need to wear pregnancy clothes for the month or so following. (And the genius of this label is that most of their pieces work while nursing, too!) I also love this maxi dress in the bisque color — it may be the only full-price article of maternity clothing I buy this go around. P.S. — If you’re also expecting/have just recent delivered, two other solid sources for maternity-wear: ASOS for inexpensive, trendy pieces when you’re desperate to get out of leggings and long striped tees (my uniform) — love this — and Shop Buru, which specializes in selecting clothes that are nursing friendly (you can sort all of their pieces by “easy access” for just this reason). I love this marigold number.
You’re Sooooo Popular: Le Stepstool.
The most popular items on le blog this week:
+This ultra chic stepstool. My bestie put hers in her shower because she doesn’t have anywhere to rest her leg while shaving. I bought mine to help mini access the toilet. But there are literally countless ways to use this stylish stepstool, which is such a step up — ehhhh?! get it?!? — in a kitchen or pantry for easier access to tall items, in a closet, at bedside when recovery from a c-section…
+An affordable scallop-trim blouse to wear with everything. These are the kinds of basics I can get behind: a straight-forward white button down, but with a little interest at the trim.
+My secret organizational weapon when traveling. Planning on ordering another set for baby boy in a different colorway. Will be so convenient to have a green set for him and a pink set for mini to make their belongings easy to find.
After finishing this meaty, worthwhile, and thoroughly depressing novel, I returned to Nine Perfect Strangers by the author of Big Little Lies. I enjoyed the first 70% or so of the book — especially the segments written in Frances’ voice, which I took to be a semi-autobiographical casting of the author herself — but the ending of the book is…a train wreck. I had written previously that Moriarty is one of the few “chick lit” writers who operates in a different stratosphere when it comes to the substance and craft of her work. The ending of this book proved me sadly wrong. I find that most good writers do more showing than telling, but the final third of her book is more or less a poorly written list of happenings designed to hastily tie up loose ends, with no art or passably interesting writing to be found. It is as though she handed off the book to her eighteen year old niece and told her to “finish things up neatly.” Ahh! I found myself speed reading to get to the finish-line, as I was around 80% through and determined to finish it in a thirty minute stretch before bed the other week.
Do you ever speed read?
My grandmother was trained as a speed reader; she actually took a class on the topic. And there’s a well-visited article that purports to teach you how to “read 300% faster in just 20 minutes.” I can imagine it might be useful if you are reading for trade or academia and don’t need to be particularly well-versed in the minutaie of an article but want to speak appreciably well about its thrust.
But most of the time, I return to the old-guard rejoinder I used to issue to my students, back when I was a teaching assistant: “Good readers are slow readers.” Because it’s true. The linked article above talks about “regression” (consciously re-reading portions of a book) and “back-skipping” (returning to a previous spot because you’ve lost your concentration in the intervening paragraphs) as though they are bad things, but I always extolled the virtues of these happenings to my students: when you are reading slowly and deliberately, you are attending to every nuance in the book. You are a more active agent in the construction of meaning. (And you tend to make better-situated observations.)
That said, there are times and places that call for speed-reading — i.e., when you are 3/4ths of the way through a book and it just feels wrong not to finish it in its entirety. But I realized the other day that I’ve developed an informal rubric around deciding whether or not I will put a book down: if I’m leaning towards speed-reading within the first fourth of the book, I’m going to cut bait.
What about you?
#Shopaholic: Les Travel Cups.
+How adorable are these for some sort of outdoor festivity involving hot beverages — for coffee at a a breakfast before a fundraising walk/run, for mulled wine at a potluck with the neighbors, for hot tea for all the parents at a kid’s soccer match?
Three random shopping agenda items to discuss aujourd’hui:
Un. My sisters are throwing me a “sprinkle” for micro in a few months and I am so excited. I am itching to pull the trigger on this Emilia Wickstead dress, which, I have on good authority having seen it on a celebrity bump or two, is pregnancy-friendly owing to the elasticized waist situation. The genius is that it can also be worn with panache post-pregnancy, as evidenced by the snap of none other than HRH LSD above. My only hang-up is that the shower will be in late March and that I will therefore be really pushing the boundaries on what’s acceptable season-wise. But…! I love! I’m torn between this print and this one. Alternately, I have long had my eye on this Lisa Marie Fernandez tiered beauty (<<now on sale!) as the perfect Charlotte York-esque maternity dress, but again — seasonality is a bit of an issue. I may buy this inexpensive dress as a back-up and fancy it up with some statement shoes and my pearl headband?…
Deux. My chic girlfriend Jen came over for a playdate with her precious baby the other day and she was wearing these incredible fur-trim boots. I immediately assumed they were Stuart Weitzman and complimented her on them. “Oh these? They were like $40.” (My eyes bulged out of my head. Sorry to blow your spot, Jen.) Turns out they are these beauties and they are currently on sale for $39! What! (They look way more expensive than that!) I am also loving these See x Chloes and these gray fur ones by Sam Edelman. If you like the look but not the “clunk” so much, check out these refined ones (on super sale) by Kate Spade. I like them with skinny jeans and a chunky knit like this, this, or this.
Trois. Sorry to beat you over the head with this, but I am in LOVE with this Pam Munson tote in the pink!
Post Scripts.
+ I cannot overstate how flattering this particular cut of dress is (it makes me feel like a long, lean goddess) — and the dress is now marked WAY down. Love the print!
Like everyone else on the planet, and at the urgent suggestion of my friend Mackenzie, who came over for dinner with her smart and kind husband two weeks ago and informed me that everything in my apartment appeared to “spark joy” (YES!), I’ve been watching the new Netflix series on cleaning and organization expert Marie Kondo. The editing/production of the show is horrible in my opinion — they repeat segments too often and don’t show enough of Marie Kondo in action. (And she is ELECTRIC! I love her! What a doll!) I also can’t figure why they tend to only show lessons 1 and 4 without featuring (even in a montage-type view) 2, 3, and 5? Or why they don’t say at the outset: “In this episode, we’re focusing mainly on lessons 1 and 4.” (But then why do they focus on 1 and 4 in all of the episodes?) It’s confusing to me. The redundancy of the show is bizarrely irritating to me, especially when House Hunters and Queer Eye are pretty much the same show over and over with mild differences and yet I can watch dozens of those without batting an eye.
But.
Quibbles aside, of course I enjoy the show. Marie is a gem, and I’ve picked up more than my fair share of tips, including (importantly) her observation that including children in the folding of laundry and the tidying of the home is important. She notes that her children get excited about the prospect of cleaning because she gets excited about it. How true this is; when I make a big deal of something in front of mini, her little face lights up and she makes this funny little Santa-like chortle: “ho ho ho ho ho ho he he he he he.” And I do like organizing. And I do spend a monstrous portion of my day tidying. In the first episode, a mother illustrates just how difficult it is to get the basics of housekeeping done with two little ones at her heels. And I hear that. I am finding it especially difficult to quickly tidy the kitchen and dining room table after meals because mini always wants to play with me then, and she has this heartbreaking way of following me into the kitchen, taking my hand, and telling me: “Come.” Then she marches over to the play area and tells me, “Sit.” And sometimes she pats the sofa or the stool with emphasis to ensure I know what she means. And then she wants to “cook” for me (usually coffee, noodles, or oatmeal, which she curiously calls “oat-note”), or lean on my legs idly until she figures out what interests her, or hurl a book at my foot. And it is hard not to say, “Well, the dishes can wait.”
But I am also one of those type A people for whom dishes-in-the-sink is something akin to leaving-the-front-door-wide-open-with-the-keys-in-it. I just feel exposed, incomplete without standing up and closing the door (er, cleaning those dishes). And so I am thinking now I might start bringing mini in to “clean the dishes” with me, whether just with a small bowl of water and a little soap and sponge for her, or something like this.
Another thing that stood out to me while watching this show is just how many marital/domestic disputes and grievances take shape over the topics of laundry, organization, and cleaning at home. These have always seemed like such frivolous things to argue about, but but but — this show makes me realize how tied they are to so much else in our lives: to our ways of thinking, to our emotional wellbeing, to our relationships. How we organize (or don’t organize) our homes and what we surround ourselves with shape our experiences of life. And so often these things are afterthoughts — “oh, I’ll just shove this here for now” or “eh, that closet can wait” and “we’ll just let the dishes soak.” In and of themselves, these decisions or non-decisions seem trivial, but they are linked, and deeply, to who we are and what we feel about ourselves and our lives. Wow! These are not topics to be taken lightly after all.
I encourage you to watch this show with your significant other — it’s brought up many juicy conversation points between Mr. Magpie and I.
It’s also made me realize we are in pretty good shape: everything has it’s home in our house, and we really hung onto very little that we did not need when we downsized from our Chicago home to our New York one. I have been fairly ruthless in shedding the surplus in the months intervening. There are truly only three areas of my home that this show has made me determined to get sorted:
Our utility/pantry closet. It’s trying to do too much. I need to bring some of the excess bowls/serving wear and paperwork we keep on the very top shelf of this closet down and evaluate whether we truly need any of the dishes (as they’ve not been touched since we’ve moved here) and whether we can shred the majority of the paper — which is probably the case, as I have absolutely no clue what’s in there right now. I’m determined to keep only what I need for the current year and then shred at year end from here on out. (I keep those current-year documents in a Bigso box at my desk.) Then I am buying one of these for the inside of the closet door and turning this shelving rack (<< strongly recommend this brand; super sturdy and durable for the price!; I also use their shelf risers in nearly every cabinet in our kitchen!) sideways so that it’s against the right wall as you enter (it’s a deep closet) and items are easier to find. Otherwise, I find myself digging through a handful of coats and pushing brooms out of my face to get to the back. Things I’ve done right in there so far: organized all spices into identical spice jars and labeled the lids with a labelmaker, then sorted them into three white bins labeled: A-G, H-Z, and OVERFLOW. I keep our flours and sugars in these and these. (I strongly prefer the Progressive brand products to the OXO ones and would buy all Progressive if I could do it again — I find that the “pop” tops on the OXOs do not actually offer an airtight seal.) Finally, I keep certain bulkier spices (like bay leaves and peppercorns) in these.
Mini’s closet and dresser. These will soon need to be a shared space for two children, so I’ve taken the first step of sorting through all of the overflow clothes that I’d been putting in decorative bins, donating what I don’t want (I feel I can now be a bit pickier with what I keep since we have a boy on the way, though who knows if we have a third) and storing what I do in these Ziploc space bags, organized by size. I intend to buy an inexpensive shelving unit for the back of mini’s closet (probably this) and will use the bottom-most cubbies for overflow diapers and wipes and then the two top sets of cubbies for bulkier clothes (sweaters, coats) and linens (crib sheets, towels, changing pad covers, swaddles). If I can swing it, I might add this closet rod (reviews!!!) to double the amount I can hang if it won’t interfere with the shelving (need to measure again), as baby clothes are so itty bitty! I also already took out some of the miscellaneous lotions and ointments I had cluttering our top dresser drawer and affixed this to the wall right next to the changing table to house them all. This has freed up more space for diaper storage (will soon need two sizes on hand depending on how quickly mini’s toilet training goes) and socks. (P.S., I use these to organize her diaper/sock drawer efficiently.)
Our medicine cabinets. These are actually pretty tidy in general but I realized they weren’t optimized for ease of access. I had grouped things together more or less by size, which was the wrong way to think of things. I started by taking everything out of both of our medicine cabinets and ordered a ton of these and these. Then I sorted things into “use daily,” “use weekly,” “use monthly,” and “use sporadically.” This meant I was able to group my contacts and skincare and dental hygiene products together and then place them on lower shelves in our master bath. I graduated up to the top by placing things used weekly — face masks, lip scrubs, etc — on the tallest shelf. Then anything I use monthly or sporadically I placed in the guest bathroom medicine cabinet, organized loosely by category (pain medication, overflow/back-up contact solution and toothpaste, etc). Finally, I had a huge bin under my sink of overflow cosmetic and trial size skincare products that I use only rarely. I created a big bag of unopened trial-size products and gave them all to my nanny. Then I organized the rest by function (i.e., travel haircare, travel skincare, excess makeup palettes only used sparingly, etc) into these inexpensive and CLEAR (!) cosmetic bags, which means things will be much, much easier to find from here on out.
Whew. That’s a lot. The only remaining area for me to grapple with is our closet and dresser. They’re organized and doing the best they can, but the fact is we just have too many clothes for our apartment. And I mean it when I say that I am ruthless about donating things that no longer “spark joy.” I am hoping that when we move this upcoming fall, we’ll find ourselves in a space with more closets in the master bedroom…
Any other tips/observations/tricks?!
Post-Scripts.
+I have previously shared my other favorite home organization tips and products here and here, in case this post is up your alley.
+I have no insight into the quality of this brand, but I LOVE THE STYLING OF THIS AFFORDABLE BOOT. The color, the suede, the shaft length, the heel height. Perfect.
+Ordered this preemptively for mini to wear to micro’s Baptism. #thinkingahead. (Great sale going on there right now — also contemplating this for micro.)
Shop Le Post.
Shop Le Post Script.
By: Jen Shoop
We are heading to Florida in a few weeks and it’s given me occasion to imagine a dream wardrobe. My top wishlist item is this rosebud print one-piece after seeing it on the gorgeous Lindsi Lane (pictured above with her chicly dressed bump!). How sweet?!
That suit is in my cart, but the only thing I’ve actually bought for the occasion is this heavily-discounted Hatch maternity dress. I’m planning on pairing it with my Aquazzura x De Gournay slides and figure that I’ll also get heavy use out of it post-delivery this summer, as it’s blissfully nursing-friendly and also cut in such a way that it should work after pregnancy.
Beyond that, I’ll be pulling out my SZ Blockprints caftans (#pregnantmomstyle — also love the similar look/feel of this Dodo Bar Or dress) and I am heavily leaning towards finally ordering a pair of metallic Birkenstocks. I’m like two seasons late to this game, but I cannot banish the vision of that chic pea in Sag Harbor wearing her SZ Blockprint caftan and Birks with a loose topknot and looking like the chicest person on the planet. And I’m in a wild frame of fashion mind these days — just, why not?! Live a little! (Hence my decision to run with the oversized headband trend, which I’m certain I will look back upon in 2026 with chagrin.) I also might need to break in my gift to my future self post-delivery (<<I got them in this cool blue color, but they are on sale in other colors here!).
I also think my Marysia one-piece will work with my bump. I own it in black, but how darling is it in this blush pink? I’ll wear my black version with a big straw hat — this was just marked down to $10 (!!!!) so I may just have it shipped directly to my parents’ home in FL.
I am dying to snag one of these Pamela Munson totes with the pink grosgrain trim for the occasion. I love the dimensions and the color.
I’ll probably wear Essie’s Pre-Show Jitters for the trip on both my hands and feet. I love this color; it’s white with just enough pink in it and delightfully opaque.
+I’ll do a post on what I want to bring for mini soon, but am itching to buy her this in the strawberry print, a new pair of Igor jellies, and already placed an order for one of these! (I’ll also need to buy a basic set of water wings to put inside — how cute is this in the flamingo print on its own though, without the cover?!)
+I mentioned this fleetingly the other day, but I am now obsessed with the brand Wee Ones hairbows. You can find a lot of them on Amazon Prime and they come in the sweetest colors, like this!
+Whenever I write about travel, I think about this.
Shop the Post-Script.
By: Jen Shoop
First: I wish I were the ultra-chic Charlotte Groeneveld (shown above), a strong reminder as to why my predominantly jeans-oriented wardrobe is feeling immature these days. Post-pregnancy, I’m branching out to wear things like these culottes (<<70% off!) she’s wearing above, which I wish I could wear for February 14th.
Second: holidays are SO much fun with mini around. They require some planning, so I’m sharing my top picks here, a month out. We’ll start with Valentine’s Day outfits/goodies for US, and then add some amazing scores for your minis. (I know many of you are chomping at the bit for the day where I include picks for boys, too — but I’m not there yet…)
Valentine’s Day Gifts and Outfits.
Links and alternates (often less expensive) below the collage — or you can click each image to access the product page!
+Heart-print blouse (LOVE and on serious sale!). Alice + Olivia has a similar style in dress form on sale here.
+Chantecaille lip veil. I’ve read good things about this lipstick formula and am enamored with the line’s big-hearted (very chic!) foundress.
+I’m all about these headbands right now. I own this exact style and LOVE it. The color, the style.
+I consider myself a gummy afficionado. These look divine. I might wrap up little parcels for my gal pals.
+Latte mug. I love you A LATTE. HA. I don’t usually give gifts to anyone (outside of baked goods) on Valentine’s Day, but if you do — this might be sweet for a mother/mother-in-law. Or just for yourself.
+Common Projects sneakers. Someone recently wrote and asked for “sophisticated, non-distressed grown-up sneakers.” These are your ticket!
P.S. If you are a man looking for a Valentine’s Day gift idea for your woman and are still confused/lost after reading through the above, personally, I would love to receive this bag, this cult-following cleanser, and pretty much anything on this gift list. For a bigger ticket Valentine’s Day: anything here, this top-handle bag in the pink, or one of these pls and thank you.
Valentine’s Day Gifts and Outfits for Minis.
+Pink picnic basket. Such a cute way to hand out/collect Valentine’s — and then repurpose for summer picnics.
+You can’t really tell from this pic, but these are special Valentine’s Day edition Go Go Squeez pouches. So if you’re feeling virtuous, consider doling these out in lieu of treats/candies and make every other mama’s heart swell.
4.5 stars. Excellent but dreary reading. I cannot — cannot — get over the fact that this book was authored by a twenty-three year old in 1940 — the book is profoundly modern and shockingly sophisticated. I feel that my awareness of these colophonic details shaped my appreciation of the novel considerably, and I tend to be more of a close reading type (i.e., I tend to give more weight to the internal workings of a book rather than to its historical context when grappling with a text). But even if we are to set the details of its authorship and publication aside, the book is rich and trying and determinedly itself.
The book read like an Edward Hopper painting: individuals in isolation against a barren landscape, the vague presence of macro-economic and social forces looming never far from the foreground. Characters in Hopper paintings are often kept forcibly apart from one another, separated by jarring angles and the clever use of chiaroscuro: a woman standing outside of a theatre in a pool of light while all else is dim on the inside; a man at the corner of an angular bar at night, segregated from the barkeep by the counter on the one hand and segregated from us voyeurs by the pane of glass and stretch of street between us.
McCullers paints with a similar brush: characters are desperately orphaned, isolated from one another. They are crying out for connection, but cannot be heard or understood — or are silenced or spoken over. Even those who come together in peaceable conversation are futile in their attempts to effectively share an understanding. There are two vignettes that establish this theme with particular concision:
First, the visiting of Mr. Singer by the various characters in the book as they seek comfort and companionship while battling their own aspirations and demons. At one point, McCullers writes: “…The rich though that [Mr. Singer] was rich and the poor considered him a poor man like themselves. And as there was no way to disprove these rumors they grew marvelous and very real. Each man described the mute as he wished him to be.”
Second, when an ailing Mr. Copeland and an enflamed Jake Blount discuss politics, they seem to share similar perspectives and yet Blount talks loudly over Mr. Copeland, drowning him out and re-directing the conversation until they wind up in a shouting match. Though Blount’s politics are difficult to understand (and occasionally contradictory) owing to his habit of rambling about his thoughts while drunk, stringing together various religious and political credo, it seems that the two characters share a similar outlook on the fundamental equality of all humans — and yet their conversation comes to blows.
All in, the book foregrounds a Hobbesian worldview: life is nasty, brutish, and short, and much of it is spent howling into the dark in the futile hopes that someone might hear us. (Is there any more haunting vision of this theme than of Willie laying with his feet tied up in that cold room, punished for a vague wrongdoing?)
I, as you probably can guess, have a drastically different outlook on life and therefore felt a kind of uneasy cognitive dissonance with its premise. I found myself aching for the book to end for this reason, even though I appreciated and marveled at its craftsmanship and occasionally shocking eloquence with words. (You will probably see me trot out “inchoate” in the coming weeks.) Still, there were moments in the book that struck me as so deeply true as to knock the wind out of me. The scenes of Mick in particular resonated with me — even small, quiet moments, as when she is climbing down from the top of a roof early in the novel and describing her gradual descent and her nervous reaction to it, or when we see her angling for companionship from her brother in the hopes of distracting herself from the disturbance of her waking thoughts. (Yet another vision of the book’s predominant motif: Mick whispering urgently into the night in the hopes of provoking a response from her sleeping brother.) The drawing of Mick was so well-done, so true to life, that I re-read portions of it with the kind of hungry attention to detail a horologist might exhibit in examining the way a watch is put together.
Reading Questions.
+Did knowing the details of the book’s authorship shape your reading of the book? How and why? If this book had been authored by a 60-year-old man in 2010, how would it have changed your interpretation (if at all)?
+What did you make of the title of the book, drawn from a poem by William Sharp: “but my heart is a lonely hunter that hunts / on a lonely hill”?
+Why do you think McCullers chose to follow the stories of five different characters so carefully (Mick Kelly, Jake Blount, Mr. Singer, Biff Brannon, Benedict Copeland)?
+How did you interpret the relationship between those five characters especially with regards to their shared bond with Mr. Singer?
+The book makes much of sound, silence, music (think specifically of Mick and Willie), muteness, deafness, etc. What’s going on with the emphasis on the auditory?
+Racial relations play heavily into all of the plotlines in the book. How did you interpret the book’s central themes of isolation and alienation within this social context?
+How did you understand the relationship between Antonapoulos and Singer?
+How did the book’s setting (a small, Southern town) impact your reading of the book and its happenings?
Magpie February Book Club Pick: Sherman Alexie’s “The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian.”
OK. This is a candidate for one of the most random book club picks to date, but bear with me.
I had been debating whether or not it was problematic that we have only ever read female authors in this book club, and, provoked by one of the reading questions I crafted above, I came to the determination that we should expand our repertoire to include gentlemen authors as well. Earlier in this post, I asked the possibly ludicrous question as to how the details of last month’s book’s publication shaped our interpretation of the novel — and how we might have understood it differently had it been written by a man today. The provocation led me to ponder the gender politics we have been spooling yet not fully articulating in our discussions of these books.
And so I thought it might be time to read a book by a male author — and one who comes highly praised and whose novel has been on my radar since it was first published in 2009. I have read shamefully little about American Indian culture despite its indigenousness to the country in which I live, and I am hooked by the narrative premise of this book, which is told from the perspective of a young boy. I won’t say he’s an unreliable narrator, but that as I was tearing through the first few pages of the book, I felt myself reading on two very different planes: first, with empathy for the boy’s understanding of the world and second, with a more knowing, situated “I am an adult and can read between the lines here” kind of head bob–an intriguing and complex setup for a novel and for its readership. I’m also already fascinated by the use of comic book-type sketching throughout. A lot to unpack in just the sheer construction of the book.
So that’s our next pick! Let’s aim to finish by February 25th.
+I need some new sunglasses. I wore these to the exclusion of all other pairs I own for nearly two years and then they snapped in two the other week. I’m intrigued by the dramatic cateye that’s been all over the place — these and these are fantastic.
+I have a problem with Lele Sadoughi’s headbands: I want them all. I think I need this denim style for spring. (P.S. — The pearl one I own is available again for pre-order here.)
+Currently in my cart as a treat to myself once I hit month 8 or 9 of this pregnancy and the weather begins to turn. Don’t these look fantastically comfortable? (And LE PRIX!)
+I recently uncovered a travel size version of Tatcha’s The Deep Cleanse exfoliating cleanser, which I must have purchased before a trip at some point over the last year. I’ve been using it while waiting for my Tata Harper to arrive in the mail and I have to say I think it’s a pretty solid dupe/replacement and at a much better price.
+Have I lived in NY for too long or is this like a really really good deal? I normally pay $4-ish for a pack of 4 Go Go Squeez applesauces; occasionally they’re marked down to $3. Here’s a pack of 20 for $10? YAS. Ordered. May order another box and pass these out as “Valentine’s” to all of mini’s little friends…
I went for my annual eye exam with my glasses in the saddest state of disrepair. Mini had messed with them to the point that they never quite laid flush against my face and were always a tad askew, on a mild diagonal across my nose bridge. I shrugged it off for the past few months as I only ever wear my glasses just before bed, while watching TV, and first thing in the morning, but — I was ecstatic to finally trade them in for a new pair. I had the most delightful exam and shopping experience at Eye Q Optometrists on the UWS and I had to gush in case there are local women seeking a new eye gal! The staff there are INCREDIBLE — extremely warm and welcoming, knowledgable, and thorough. I left and told Mr. Magpie it was one of the best shopping experiences I’ve had in the past decade, and I shop…a lot. Anyway, can’t say enough good things (and this is in no way sponsored — just trying to provide credit where credit is due). At any rate. I had intended to get my prescription and hightail it to the nearest Warby Parker, but then found myself highly distracted by the unique, under-the-radar labels Eye Q carried, mainly local and independent frames crafters. The sales gal was super patient and helpful as I tried on about 15 different frames, and we together whittled down the array of options to this chic pair from Salt Optics in the fossil grey. It was so unexpected; I was intending to buy a pair of tortoise shell beauties but these looked SO good on, complemented my coloring, and fit my face so beautifully. (This sales lady also nudged me to try a couple of shapes I wouldn’t have otherwise and I loved them all! Amazing taste!) Anyway, I am genuinely ecstatic about my new glasses and I can’t wait to pick them up next week.
My mother is an even-keeled lady, but you do not want to be in her warpath after neglecting to respond to an email or return a phone call. To her, it’s incomprehensible and inexcusably rude that someone would read an email and decide to not address it promptly — even if only to acknowledge it and buy time until a more complete response can be issued.
I am much the same way, to the point that I find it difficult to focus on more important tasks when I have an inbox of emails waiting me. At a minimum, I need to organize and archive and tag the emails — but I usually try to respond to things as they come in unless they require more extensive thought/writing. (And you can bet I never leave an email from my mom unanswered.)
The other day, a friend of mine mentioned that she, like me, has set an intention to be more present this year. As a part of that, she said that she was determined not to feel guilty about letting certain things fall through the cracks. “Email, for example. If I don’t get to an email, oh well! Who cares? It’s not going to stop the world. If it’s important enough, they’ll call or re-ping me. Right?”
Hm. I saw where she was going and I nodded in agreement. I could see how “turning down the volume” on the significance of her inbox would create more time and space for her to live in the moment. Maybe we don’t need to hear a PING every single time a new email comes in after all. I once read that many successful CEOs and business leaders only check their emails three times a day: once in the morning, once at noon, and once before leaving for the day. The notion is that emails should not dictate the direction of our days, and that they are often more of a distraction than anything else; most of our time should be spent interacting with colleagues in the workplace or doing actual work.
But. But. But.
My mom’s voice was in my ear. If someone is taking the time to email you, you should return the courtesy. And I’m not talking about marketing emails or subscriptions or vague group emails with no clear “ask.” I’m talking about notes from friends and family members, inquiries from colleagues, even personally-directed sales pitches. (This latter category is especially difficult for me to come to terms with. I receive a ton of these via this blog — people trying to sell me products, services, and partnerships or asking me to feature their products and services. The former business owner in me says: “Just take the time to write a ‘No thank you.’ I learned the hard way that a quick no is far better than a slow maybe when it comes to sales — I don’t want to be clogging someone’s pipeline by virtue of unresponsiveness.” And the bitter former business owner in me says: “The number of non-answers I received when I was starting out is just the way of the world. And sometimes I don’t have the time or inclination to explain why featuring a male golf shirt or crafting beads is not the right fit for this blog. They should know their market better!”)
At any rate, I came to ponder the lines between making space for yourself — going easy on yourself, doing what you need to do in order to live your most fulfilled and focused life — and common courtesy. How do we weigh these things? While I am empathetic to and supportive of my friend, I find myself gravitating more towards my mother’s camp. Especially after I came to the relatively recent resolution to JUST PICK UP THE PHONE when it rings. I would hate to leave someone high and dry, or perplexed and confused by my irresponsiveness. In a recent Goop podcast, an expert in lying and speech patterns made the point that one of the cruelest things you can do to another human is “ghost” on them because humans are excellent at imagining. We are story-tellers by nature; we are hard-wired to not let things lie unresolved. We conjure extreme explanations when faced with silence. “She must be mad,” or “He probably read it and rolled his eyes,” or “He must think he’s above responding to this,” or “I must not matter to her,” or — in the world of online dating — “he must think I’m ugly,” or “she must have thought I was boring,” or “he must be sooo superficial” or “I am not enough.” I am guilty of filling in such blanks when an email goes unanswered myself. How can we not?
And so I think that if I get to the point where email is too much of an intrusion in my life, I will set up an auto-response or otherwise make it known that I check my emails very sparingly and that if something urgent needs to be addressed, a phone call or text is preferred.
What do you think? Am I too uptight on this front? Where do you draw the line?
#Shopaholic: Le Gingham Sandal.
+These sandals are SO adorable (and so heavily discounted).
+I’ve been hearing a lot about the idea of double cleansing your face at night — using two cleansers (or the same one, twice in a row) to truly scrub every last trace of the day off. I am in a long-term, committed relationship with my Tata Harper regenerating cleanser but am thinking of trying the double cleansing approach myself with a second product. I am super intrigued by the reviews of Indie Lee’s cleanser but feel as though it wouldn’t be exfoliating enough on its own. So maybe I’ll use it after my Tata, or Eve Lom’s cult-following face wash, which I’ve known about for maybe five years.
When I was expecting mini, one of my closest girlfriends asked: “Do you just love being pregnant? I’ve always thought you would.”
I had to think about that for a minute. I felt grateful and awestruck and elated and knew that I would gladly bear the discomforts pregnancy presented a million times over, but — I couldn’t say I loved being pregnant. I was anxious for the time to pass. I was nervous something would go wrong. I was terrified by the unknown — labor, a c-section, a baby, a new identity, a seismic shift in the life I’d always known! I didn’t like the feeling of being out of control of my body. Every twinge and twang sent me into spirals of concern. I (wisely) avoided googling each and every symptom, but (not so wisely) let my imagination get away from me and would toss and turn into the wee hours of the night, wondering if that ache was something more nefarious than I surmised. I remember complaining to Mr. Magpie that time was moving in reverse. “I’m ready for her,” I would say to anyone and everyone who would ask how I was feeling by around week eighteen or nineteen; it was hard for me to kill the time. It felt like I was sitting in a waiting room for — well, yes. Ten months.
This pregnancy is different. I often forget I’m expecting — mercifully so, though I would do well to remember that I should go easier on my self physically. (I have been scolded multiple times for picking up my two year old daughter too much.) I have less time and energy to fret over the aches and pains that seem to come and go daily, and most days (and weeks) fly by. I am instead preoccupied by the wants and needs and affections and curiosities of a very active almost-two-year-old, and I haven’t had much time to philosophize over what changes our son will introduce to our lives. This may be for the worse; I am sure I am in for a wild wake-up call, and on occasion I feel badly that I am not giving this pregnancy the attention I afforded mini’s. But mainly I am relieved by the blessing of distraction. I am startled when I discover I am no longer x weeks along — I am now y weeks along! That much closer to the finish line. That much closer to holding my son.
With mini, the wait was endless because I did not know what to expect and did not have the diversion of a toddler. With micro, time is flying but I still long to be at the finish line because I know what’s coming and it is a good, good thing. I am eager for the newborn phase. A friend who gave birth more recently looked at me sideways when I said so: “um, I think you’re forgetting what it’s like.” HA! Maybe. God must erase the tough parts from our memories to ensure there are younger siblings to be had. But at the same time, I stood firm in my excitement, comforted by two observations: first, I have friends who have long said they disliked the newborn phase — but I have never felt that way. I have always thought of it as exhausting, bleary bliss — even when in its throes. Second, I did not mind the sleeplessness as much as other moms I know did; I knew it was temporary, had been sufficiently forewarned, and have never been one of those people who “needs eight hours of sleep.” (Well, I probably do need them, but have observed that I fare OK on a more limited sleep schedule than others.) Also, my mom has no patience for “I’m tired” whining sessions, having been through five infancies: the handful of times I mentioned I was exhausted, she gave me a kind of shrugging “welp, this is motherhood” answer. Her ruthlessness on this point has probably steeled me.
Finally, I feel like I’ll be able to enjoy the newborn phase even more than I did the first go around. With mini, everything was new and mildly terrifying — what was that noise she made? She spit up — OMG OMG what do I do!?Is she choking on my breastmilk?! This time around, I anticipate fewer flares of panic and a better sense of perspective. A friend of mine wrote a note along with a gift she gave mini not long after she was born: “Enjoy the newborn snuggles; they vanish quickly.” I remember thinking that was an odd thing to say — newborns don’t snuggle, exactly? I thought. I imagined holding an older baby who might cling onto me as a more satisfying embrace. But now I get it. Newborns are tiny immobile lumps that just want to be held and cuddled. They burrow into your chest. They snooze on you. They don’t squirm out of your grasp. They don’t shriek “NO!” when you try to kiss them. They don’t sprint across the room after removing a soiled diaper, laughing maniacally. They just lay on you and smell like heaven and make you weep with sentimental joy.
In short, I cannot wait for my son to be here. I occasionally lay in bed and feel him move and think: “Ohh but what I wouldn’t give to have you outside already, in my arms.” I want to see him, put my arms around him, smooth his perfect skin under my thumb.
When I was pregnant with mini and would bemoan the slow passing of time, moms would give me a knowing look and tell me to “enjoy the quiet now.” I knew they were right, but I grimaced at the advice. No. I do not want to enjoy this. I want the baby! I am surprised to find I feel the same way now, during this pregnancy, when moms of two invariably tell me with that same knowing look: “Just enjoy the (relative) quiet now. Two is more than twice the trouble.” Again, I know they are right, but I still grimace at the advice. No. I want the baby!
I know that life is going to turn upside down in late May. I anticipate many long and exhausting days, tears of frustration, and moments where I sit in befuddled shock at the state of chaos and disaster in my apartment. But excitement gets in the way of those practical expectations and I find myself radiating with anticipation when I have the time to stop and think about my son. My son! My son! (He kicked when I wrote that.)
Onward we go…
Post-Scripts: The Beginnings of a Wardrobe for Baby Boy.
When I first announced I was pregnant, I wrote that I had only purchased two articles of clothing and that I was strong-arming myself into avoiding buying too much now. In the two weeks intervening, I have lost my reserve and started to build his layette wardrobe. I had no idea what I would be drawn to, to be honest — as I smocked bubble kind of mom? a jon jon kind of mom? a button-down-and-cords kind of mom? — but here’s where I’ve headed:
+I had really good luck in the sale section of LouLou’s Baby Boutique, where I discovered a previously unknown desire to dress my son as though he is British royalty. I stocked up on sweater-and-short sets like these and knitted rompers like these (or, from a different label, these). The deals are so good — I snagged a ton of great pieces! I was drawn to sets in blue, gray, and beige.
+I find I’m generally drawn to the aesthetic of European brands like Babidu, Foque, Jacadi, and La Coqueta — something like this, this, or this looks precious for a special occasion, with neatly parted hair.
+To my surprise, I am finding myself choosy about pieces that are smocked/monogrammed. I loved them on mini (i.e., in girl form) and have seen so many adorable boys wearing those styles but some of the designs I have found out there right now are cloyingly “Little Lord Fauntleroy-esque” to me for some reason. That said, I am drawn to shortalls/jon jons by Florence Eiseman (love these and these, both on sale) and Busy Bees Kids (love these). Thanks, C, for those recs!
+For true newborn/layette wear, it’s all about cotton jammies/coveralls. I love Kissy Kissy (this, this, and this), Livly Baby (I bought a few pairs of theirs for mini and ADORED the prints and the quality — I love this one for baby boy), and 1212. I also found a few pairs of RRR jammies in infant sizes on sale here.
+I bought one pair of swimming trunks (12M!) that coordinate with a swimsuit for mini from Sal E Pimenta’s sale section. I couldn’t not. I just hope that I estimated the sizing correctly…
+Now is a good time to stock up on basics like polo shirts, cable-knit sweaters, and rompers at Polo. They are an extra 40% off, bringing the cost of a polo shirt down to $8.40. Can you believe?! You can’t even get a knock-off polo from H&M for that price.
+I’m working on a list of what I’ll need gear-wise for baby boy — but it’s going to be fairly brief, as we saved almost everything from mini and frankly don’t have the space for anything else (though I wish I could have had one of these with mini — I know I would have used it in addition to our 4Moms rocker and our Boppy lounger back when we had three floors). I shared a couple of early thoughts here. My main priority is to find a carrier I like more than the ones I have because we are determined not to buy a double stroller (are we insane? possibly). Here’s our rationale: navigating New York with a one-baby stroller is challenging to begin with. Navigating New York with a double stroller is…impossible? They are so BIG. The Bugaboo — the one I’d want to buy — is a side-by-side double and way too wide to get through most doors in the city. I mean, it’s hard enough to get into a single door when you need to prop it open on your own with the stroller. But you’d have to somehow open TWO doors (if the store even HAS a set of double doors) to wield the Bugaboo. So that means the option is the Uppababy, which I understand people love, but is so freaking heavy! I tested one out the other day and was shocked at how hard it was to push. I also don’t care for the fact that one kid is so low to the ground in it — especially in New York, where puddles, cars, debris, etc, are everywhere. So. I think we’re going to buy the Bugaboo kickstand attachment and see how that goes. I’ve heard it’s not particularly useful since kids mini’s age will just hop off. But, I figure between the kickstand and a good carrier, we can get most places we need to go. And, if we need to, we can bring our umbrella stroller alongside our Bugaboo (of course, this means both parents would need to be present). So that brings us back to the carrier question. I am intrigued by the Solly Baby wrap, which many of you have recommended, and the Baby Bjorn mini carrier, which is designed specifically for infants/newborns. I’m going to take a field trip up to Albee Baby with a girlfriend to explore more carefully.
+Unrelated, but we have begun to toilet train mini. There are so many different approaches to this process and so many strong opinions on this topic that I’m a little scared to share our hippie strategy/non-strategy — but her goes. We have felt that mini has been giving us signals she is ready for the past month or two. She talks a lot about toilets, poop, etc., and is very interested in accompanying me to the bathroom, pulling off toilet paper, and flushing. She also will tell us before/during/after she is relieving herself and express a desire to be changed. So my first step was putting this on top of our toilet and having her sit on it, fully clothed. She loves it (“beee-uh” she says, pointing out the bear on the top) and beams with pride every time/sprints over to let Mr. Magpie know. Now we routinely find her bringing her stuffed animals and dolls to sit on the toilet and “poop.” The next step has been putting her on with no pants whenever she asks for it. She’s not yet been successful in completing things there, but she’s beginning to connect the need to go with running to the toilet. So there are lots of “dry runs” in the truest sense of the words. I am trying to make it super low-pressure. If she asks, we go. If not, we don’t talk about it. I have M&Ms saved in a little mason jar for when things go right. Now my biggest debate is what to do about diapers, which are a big pain to take off/put back on while she’s standing up and waiting to mount the toilet. I think I might order some pull-ups for this transition. It feels way too early to put her in underwear at this point. Maybe we’ll graduate to those when she’s had a few successful attempts? I have my eyes on these (cute prints!) and these (a classic – I think I owned a variation on these, too, growing up – – that rosette brings back nostalgia!). OK. That was way too much on toileting. But there we are.
P.S. If you can stomach it, now is a good time to snag Christmas jammies for next year. Lots are on sale!
P.P.P.S. A few of you have asked whether I will be bringing back my two-post Thursdays, where the second post is focused on mini. For the time being, I am going to be mixing in motherhood/children posts with my regular content rather than writing separate posts on a designated day of the week. I hope this isn’t too confusing/disappointing (let me know if it is) — I might aim to bring back “two post Thursdays” at some point but am trying to spend more time incubating each post before I publish, and feel that motherhood is increasingly seeping into a lot of my longform content anyway. It’s harder to isolate!
P.P.P.P.S. (This is getting ridiculous.) Thank you for all of your feedback on the carousel of products in yesterday’s post! I am so excited that it yielded such a warm reception. I usually write my posts well in advance of publication so you probably won’t see carousels until midway through next week — but THANK YOU for the feedback and know that they are coming!!! (Didn’t want you to think I was dropping that feature!)
By: Jen Shoop
“You may not see it today or tomorrow,
but you will look back in
a few years and be absolutely
perplexed and awed
by how every little thing
added up and brought
you somewhere wonderful — or
where you always wanted to be.
You will be grateful that things didn’t
work out the way you once wanted them to.”
I found this quote a few months ago, took a screenshot of it, and have revisited its buoyant message on occasion in the weeks intervening. Though I feel that my life is in an upswing at the moment — as though my husband and I are birds in ascent — the feelings of failure and ambivalence that lived so close to the surface just a short year or two ago are never far from my thoughts. I wrote a bit, somberly, after Christmas about how growing up has felt like a gradual tempering of emotion. Until I was in my late 20s, I felt unbridled in every sense of the word: I could do anything, be anything, go anywhere, feel what I wanted to feel at any time, any place. Now I feel situated. Centered, maybe, if I am being generous with myself. I understand better the constraints of the real world, the unlikeliness of certain kinds of success and reward, the probability of certain kinds of disappointment and loss.
Let me speak more openly about what I mean from a professional standpoint (though I have other achingly personal griefs that I could share here, too). I am aware that, taken from a thousand foot view, Mr. Magpie and I have led highly charmed lives, and that the shuttering of the business we built together must seem like a petty gripe in the grand scheme of things.
“At least you had the privilege of starting a business; do you know how few people even have that option available to them?”
“But you turned out just fine — you now live in Manhattan and are on to other amazing projects! No harm, no foul.”
“It’s an insane blessing that you were even able to take two years to explore entrepreneurship on your own! A rarity! An indulgence!”
I tell myself these things all the time. And they are true. And poignantly so now that I better understand the inequities of the startup world and how it and the financing apparatus around it inherently bias certain categories of people and business. I know this because Mr. Magpie and I fall into a lot of those privileged categories — and still we were unable to find success as quickly as we needed to in order to sustain our company. The unvarnished truth is that it takes two things to succeed with a new business: capital and connections. The business itself can and will evolve and grow until it achieves “product-market fit” over the course of many years, and often, the final product is far afield from where the founders first planted its earliest iteration. But to buy yourself the time to get to that magical “fit,” you need deep pockets and an impressive rolodex. If you are missing or slight in either of those, it’s impossible to succeed. In our case, we did not have sufficient resources in either category. We were fortunate to have enough capital to start the business, forgo salaries by living off of savings, and raise a small pre-seed round of money. But our connections to the VC world were slight, and to the circle of “angel investors” that often take care of funding rounds under $1M, even slighter. In order to network your way into that crowd, you usually need to have attended an elite business school, invested in businesses yourself (i.e., be substantially privately wealthy), or been in some meaningful way professionally or socially connected to That Set. We had done none of those things.
On the connections side, Mr. Magpie and I had built strong relationships in our respective careers, but neither of us had lived in a specific professional field long enough to have a robust black book. If, for example, I had built a career in, say, accounting technology sales, and had worked in that domain for ten years, building countless relationships to individuals and businesses in that orbit, attending professional symposia and conferences, etc, etc, I might have had a chance to anchor my business (at least early on, in the “MVP” stage) there with “insider” information. I might have said: “I am building an HR technology specifically for sales professionals in accounting technology.” And then I might have carefully crafted my pitch and designed my product to cater to that micro-market as a kind of proof of concept. Once I’d closed enough business (we learned that around $5-10K in monthly recurring revenue would have been enough to turn heads for the type of business we had), I could then turn to my VC cronies (if I’d had them…) and sell the idea based on the traction I’d seen, extrapolating that if we’d had this kind of success in such a small corner of the market, imagine what we can do if we expanded sales to x, y, and z!
Alternately, if I had previously worked at a major, respected consumer packaged goods firm and had strong enough relationships with the right people there, I might be able to sell a small “pilot” program to my former company as the “proof of concept” and that might be enough to yield some financing.
But. Mr. Magpie and I had neither of those kinds of connections. We were well-liked in our respective professional paths but lacked a sufficiently wide or deep net in order to establish a kind of market specialty or land a “big fish” win early on.
And so. Our chances of sustaining ourselves until we had achieved product-market fit were slim before we even started. And they are even slimmer for those without the considerable advantages we had when we started out.
So when I say that closing the business flung us into a kind of situational depression, I mean to say that the experience revealed to me so many raw truths of the world that it was hard to swallow it all at once. I saw that maybe the “American Dream” is a kind of figment. I saw that hard work and clarity of purpose do not always yield reward. I saw that sometimes a straight line is not the shortest distance between two points — meaning that it makes intuitive sense that a good and honest idea will flourish, but that there are invisible constraints and machineries in motion that favor certain kinds of businesses and ideas and shun others (i.e., why there are so many home meal preparation startups?!). And maybe, too, our idea was just not that good. And so I saw a kind of creative failure in myself I’d never seen before, an artistic impotence. And I saw that a particular vision of success that Mr. Magpie and I had long clung to was unlikely for us. And I was embarrassed, and frustrated, and stressed by our financial losses, and uncertain of when or how I would ever be able to rebuild my professional career now that I’d gone “off grid” to pursue something on my own.
We felt as though we were drowning. I felt for the first time in my life lacking in direction and ambition, an alien kind of listlessness invading my personal space. (This, from a textbook Type A Gal.) I didn’t recognize myself. I remember telling Mr. Magpie: “One day we’ll look back and understand why we did this and where it took us.” And we’d both nod glumly at each other, neither truly believing it.
Yet here I am, roughly two short years after we decided to move on from our business, and though I still do not fully understand “why we did that,” I am relieved at where it has taken us. I am startled by the fact that I can grasp both the morose discoveries unveiled in our shared entrepreneurship experience and the shining optimism of the quote I shared at the outset of this post and find both to bear an equal measure of truth. Because while I am hardened by our experience starting a business, I am also “perplexed and awed by how every little thing added up and brought me somewhere wonderful.” Above all, I am grateful things didn’t work out the way I once wanted them to.
Because I am here, now, and happy.
I share this today with a twin pair of hopes. First: that I might use this post as a kind of closure on this topic, as I have agonized over it for too long. My father often tells me, in various permutations: “Never look back.” He said this after we sold our home in Chicago, and even after we more recently sold our SUV — the last remaining vestige of our life in IL and all of the dreams we pursued while there. Keep moving, Jennie.
But, second, and more importantly, I share this post with another intention: I hope that if you are drifting in the throes of disappointment or grief or frustration, you might permit yourself to see that your hardships will give way to something better, even if you can’t fully believe it right now, and even if you want to groan and roll your eyes as I did two years ago. Just open that door for a minute and let it stand before you: the possibility that in a few years, you might stand perplexed and awed at where your present has taken you.
+Love this acrylic bookcase. Mr. Magpie and I need to do an assessment of our toy/book/clothing storage solutions with micro on the way — we need to make better use of the space we have so that we can stow toys and clothes and books for two! The acrylic bookcase above caught my eye because it’s narrow and clear — and therefore won’t look too bulky or dark tucked into a corner of mini’s nursery.
+In a similar vein, it dawned on me recently that I might be able to maximize storage by adding this etagere to our master bathroom. Then I can repurpose the bins I’m currently using to hold overflow towels and toilet paper for other purposes…
+OK, this is a chic upgrade from the Qi I bought Mr. Magpie for Christmas…
+I did splurge on these velvet Miu Miu slides (on super sale! — more sizes/colors also on sale here and here). I bought them as a present for myself post-delivery in May. I figure I’ll need some fun shoes to prance (ha!) out of the hospital in. That said, I also found these for only $23 as a chic way to get the look for way less….
+Speaking of pearls: this is fun, and my beloved Lele Sadoughi pearl headband was restocked here and here!
