"I wake at 7am so that I can get my daughters on their school bus by 7.30. I could go back to bed, but I read the newspaper and start the day. Living close to Central Park is the best reason for owning a dog.

I go walking with Rosie, my cavalier King Charles. Breakfast is small — usually a piece of fruit. Then I have an entire pot of really hot water that has turned a little brown — even my friends who like weak coffee can't believe what I drink.

I'm very quick at getting ready. I adore skin-care products and make-up but I'm very unfaithful. I'm a woman with a short attention span who needs constant stimulation. Doesn't that sound just like a diva? This week, I'm using Crème de la Mer for my skin, and products from Scott Barnes, the make-up artist who was responsible for J.Lo's glow. His trio of pink geisha-inspired blushers make my day. I have my hair cut by Vartan Vartali and coloured by Michael Stinchcomb, who's a fan and travels all round the world looking after me. And twice a year I go clothes-shopping. My wardrobe has become very streamlined. I buy from a handful of designers — Gianfranco Ferré, Issey Miyake and Yohji Yamamoto.

On a rehearsal day I'll walk to the Met [Metropolitan Opera House]. We start at 9.30am. But if I'm learning a new role, I might work at home with a pianist, or by myself. I live in a pre-war building with thick walls. So far, the neighbours haven't complained. But when I'm in the preparation stage, I rarely sing full voice. If it's a performance day, I nap during the afternoon. And I try to stay off the phone and keep drinking water. Even a little bit of dehydration is bad for the throat.

My parents were both music teachers, and I've lived a life with a soundtrack.

As a child, I was a bookworm. Reading allowed me to develop my imagination, which goes a very long way when you're acting a role. The worst aspect about singing — which is something I love — is almost always having to do it somewhere else. Recital tours and travelling to concert halls and opera houses away from home is the real downside.

I feel that I've managed to achieve a balance between work and family, and it is wonderful to be able to choose to stay home with my children. But without help from my manager, I'm very susceptible to pressure. I still find saying no almost impossible. Though not when it comes to food. Opera singers tend to have a certain body type — it comes with the voice. So I don't eat carbohydrates or sugar. Lunch is salad or soup, my current craze. Elizabeth, my baby-sitter, buys the groceries, mostly online. I love cookbooks but I don't ever cook. If I have a day off, I'd rather go biking in the park with Amelia and Sage. At holiday times, I share them with their father, so being together is even more precious.

I know what I will be doing five years ahead, so my idea of luxury is having time that isn't scheduled. Time to listen to jazz — a real hobby of mine. Whereas I can't listen to opera in a leisurely way — it takes my full attention. I don't think my talent was particularly obvious for a while, but for however long it's going to last, those long years of work and frustration give me such joy now. By nature I'm predisposed to happiness, but I'm probably the happiest I've ever been.

I prefer to eat about an hour and a half before I have to sing. It's always something simple — chicken or fish, with a salad. My only dressing-room requests are water and herbal tea. It takes me half an hour to put on my wig, make-up and costume. Then I have to vocalise and study the score. I still get nerves, but it's more like a feeling of wonderful anticipation, knowing I'm going to share something thrilling with the audience.

A great theatrical experience on stage can be extremely cathartic. As I'm a person who prefers to avoid conflict, slipping into a character when I go out on stage enables me to open up. I can experience a host of different emotions that are not a part of my own life.

The first time I ever met Placido Domingo, in 1994, I stepped into a rehearsal for the confrontation scene in Otello — Carol Vaness had pulled out after injuring her back. As the role was new to me, I'd been begging for rehearsal time. Suddenly I heard "Renée, you're on," and there I was, on stage with Placido. His acting was so terrifying in its intensity, I thought he really was going to strangle me an act in advance. It left my legs shaking so hard, I needed help to leave the stage. When it was all over, he shook my hand and said brightly, as if greeting a new neighbour: "Hello, I'm Placido Domingo. It's a pleasure to meet you."

In New York the post-performance bouquets can be a bit overwhelming. I can't have gardenias or lilies, as I'm sensitive to strong scents. When the curtain comes down, I have to quickly get into shape for greeting everyone backstage. Nobody wants to see you in pin curls and stage make-up. It ruins the illusion. In 20 minutes I'm ready to sign autographs. Afterwards I love being with friends, but I don't want dinner. Maybe just a plate of cheese. I take my flowers home and look in on the girls. Fortunately, sleeping is a talent of mine. For the most part, it takes me less than a minute to fall asleep."