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Avoid baby shower registry hell [Giveaway]

catherinemryan

When I was pregnant, I checked a pregnancy web site weekly, mostly to find out what fruit Peeper was. TheBump.com also had tips and to-dos that expecting mamas should keep in mind. Never having been pregnant before, it was helpful to have someone tell me to, say, interview pediatricians and buy life insurance.

The reminder to register for baby shower gifts, then, was a needed if unwelcome kick in the maternity pants.

I  had no idea what to add to my online registry. (I ended up using MyRegistry.com so I wouldn’t be limited to one or two stores, by the way.)  Sure, I figured I should ask for bibs and bottles, but what kind? How many? And what is a layette?

Online articles with a checklist of registry items were only moderately helpful. I don’t like shopping, so the idea of wandering through Baby Hell Babies R Us with a scanner gun sounded like torture. A friend who had recently given birth offered tips, but I would have loved a way to compare products and test brands out before asking friends and family to buy gifts for me and the growing bun.

In a few weekends, there will be just such an event for parents-to-be and already-parents such as myself: The Northwest’s Biggest Baby Shower, Saturday May 31 from 10 am – 5 pm in Portland’s Left Bank Annex. The mondo event is a way to poke around, check out eco-friendly baby products, learn about services for after Tiny arrives (like postpartum doulas, which I’d never heard of when I was preggers), get mini-spa treatments (yes, please) and leave with a bag chock full o’ samples.

Man, I love samples.

Personally, I think the expert speakers lined up are worth a visit in and of themselves. There are workshops on baby wearing, post-birth physical recovery, babyproofing and—here’s the cherry on top—baby sleep.

Seriously, someone will tell you how to help your cute-but-squalling baby sleep better. And you don’t even have to read a book.

The folks over at the NW’s Biggest Baby Shower have given me 10 sets of couples passes to give away here. Peeper and I are going, and we’d love to see you! (I’ll be the blond circling the booths giving away freebies; Peeper will be the even blonder baby grabbing at anything remotely shiny or crinkly.)

Simply click the link below, follow directions to multiply your chances of having your name drawn, and you could be joining me and about a bajillion other parents at the NW’s Biggest Baby Shower.

I’ll be choosing 10 winners on Friday and you’ll hear from me on Saturday if you win. There are some options you can do once a day, so check back throughout the week.

Let me know if you are going—I’d love to meet you in person! (I’ll also have some materials at the blogger booth—stop by and say hello!) See you there!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

I received a free pass to the NW’s Biggest Baby Shower. All opinions on this blog are entirely my own. I tell it like it is.

Baby footprint crafts [tutorial]

catherinemryan

I’m a big fan of craft projects in general, and I’d seen all those adorable baby footprint pins—butterflies, suns, flowers, you name it—but I had a rough time the last time I’d tried to make something cute with my kid’s feet.

I was an exhausted new mom with grand ideas of making gifts for all Peeper’s relatives. I had bought a big carton of plaster of paris, disposable bowls and straws. I set everything up. I had planned it perfectly: Peeper was as well rested as she’d get, so I was ready.

The result was a disaster. We got plaster all over the kitchen and mashed circles that looked more like a relief map than a Christmas decoration. Peeper was dunked in the bath immediately, and the extended Ryan Gregory clan got nothing under the tree from us. (Wah-wahhhhh.)

For Mother’s Day, a friend helped me recover from my fear of baby print crafts. The results were adorable—cute enough to make in triplicate. (One for each grandma and one for me, of course!) Instructions below

Ten Thousand Hour Mama

I’m going to scan one and make a greeting card of it, too.

These would make a great gift anytime. If you make one, take a picture and send a link. I’d love to see it! And comment below if you have any pointers on getting foot- or handprints. (I belatedly saw this link with tips.) As you can see, I have a bit to learn on that front.

Baby footprint tulip art 

Ten Thousand Hour Mama baby footprint art1. Squeeze red acrylic paint onto a plate and spread it out a bit. Dunk your baby’s foot in the paint and stamp it once or twice on a piece of cardboard to get rid of excess paint.

2. Holding the canvas steady (or better yet, getting someone else to hold it still), lower your baby’s foot onto the canvas. Roll it a bit back and forth to ensure you stamp the whole foot.

3. Repeat the process with the other foot, stamping them with the heels and balls of the feet touching and even overlapping a bit. Let the stamps dry.

4. Squeeze out some green acrylic paint. Put some on a brush and dip the brush in water. (This will give a pretty watercolor effect.) Paint a stem and leaf.

5. Swoon.

6. Sign the masterpiece on behalf of your little one. I wrote Peeper’s name and “Mother’s Day May 2014” on the side of the canvas.

Every day should be Mother’s Day

catherinemryan

Yes, I know that Mother’s Day has come and gone, but moms continue their hard work on the 364 days they don’t get cards and brunch and flowers—so why shouldn’t I write about an amazing mom I know? 

My dearest E,

I know this isn’t your favorite holiday, but I have some things to say, so suck it up!

You are a wonderful mother. That said, this whole parenting thing is effin’ hard. Thank you for not trying to hide that from me. Your transparency has made the transition into motherhood feel less difficult. Ok, maybe not that much less difficult, but at the very least, your letting me see you struggle makes me feel less alone when all I want to do is get in my car, drive away and never look back.

(I don’t feel like that very often these days, but I have felt like that. And when I did, I called you.)

I appreciate your advice. I appreciate that you wait for me to ask for your advice. I appreciate that you couch your advice in terms of what worked for you or what you read or what you wish you’d done differently instead of telling me what I should do or what will work for us.

I appreciate your support. I feel stronger as a person and mother because you are on my side.

I appreciate your willingness to listen anytime. You don’t remind me that I’ve rehashed the same issue a dozen times already. You let me vent even though you’re in the car driving with the family and they all have to listen to me on speakerphone. Have I mentioned lately that you’re one of the best listeners I know?

You will make a scoffing noise at this (STOP THAT RIGHT NOW), but I’ll say it anyway. You are the perfect mother for N. Not the Perfect Mother (and I probably wouldn’t want to be friends with you if you were—how boring) but the best-matched mama for your strong, fierce, lovable, sweet, hilarious, huggable, opinionated, determined, smart little one. I learn how to be a better mother by watching you two.

I am so thrilled for our girls to grow up together. I have a feeling that they’ll come to love each other as much as we love each other. And if the shenanigans we got into together are any measure, the two of them will have A LOT of fun together. (And perhaps cause us an ulcer or two.)

Enough mush.

Ok, maybe just a little more.

I love you! Happy Mother’s Day.

The girls' first kiss
The girls’ first kiss

Is there a mom you know who deserves a compliment, hug or mimosa today? Let her know! Share below, too!

Happy Mother’s Day to the one who loved me first

catherinemryan

Dear Mom,

The last ten months would have been unimaginably harder without you.

You came to the hospital an hour or two after Peeper was born. Your grin didn’t even fit on your face when you met your granddaughter, your first-ever and only grandbaby.

Even amidst your new grandma duties, though, you remained my mom: You brought me a smoothie and asked the nurses questions about my recovery.

Ten Thousand Hour Mama

About a month later, I called you. You thought the phone had gone dead because I didn’t speak at first. There was nothing wrong with the cell reception; I just couldn’t talk because I was crying so hard.

I had been to the lactation clinic earlier that day and everything had gone terribly wrong. My evening looked like this: Two hands were occupied operating the breast pump; one foot rocked a screaming Peeper in her bassinet; the other foot pet Finn and tried to keep him from biting an infected hot spot. And the noise—between her crying and the whomp whomp of the pump, the noise was overwhelming. Peeper wailed and wanted to be picked up but I couldn’t hold her and work that torture device machine at the same time.

So I called you.

That night, you came to my rescue. You left within minutes of my call and drove the two hours to Portland (though much less for you, I’m sure, as you zoomed up I-5). You fed me, held your granddaughter while I pumped, walked Finn and didn’t say anything when I escaped to the shower to cry.

Ten Thousand Hour Mama

Things have gotten so. much. easier. since those grueling months, yet you are still an integral part of our lives. You take care of Peeper every week so I can write and help provide for my family.

When you crack open the door upon your arrival and call out, “Hellooooooo,” Peeper sucks in her breath and flaps her arms—her signal for excitement. Her happiness to play with you doesn’t abate as you read books, go for walks, sing, stack blocks and—of course—take selfies.

[vimeo 94674691 w=500 h=888]

I Love You Edie Mae from Catherine Ryan Gregory on Vimeo.

The time you spend together helps me on a practical level—I’m able to head to the library and write for several solid hours at a time, which could never happen if I were at home. But it benefits me in a non-utilitarian way, too.

It makes me feel so good that Peeper is loved by more than just me and Eric. You and her grandpa adore her, and as she grows up, that unconditional love will make her feel secure and safe.

Ten Thousand Hour Mama

I felt that support from you as my mother, and it is a priceless gift that you’re giving to Peeper.

You may have loved me first, but I love you still.

Happy Mother’s Day.

Ten Thousand Hour Mama

10 months

catherinemryan

As Peeper grinned at me from the top of the stairs, it hit me: I have a 10-month-old daredevil on my hands.

As she gets older, her personality shows itself more and more. That personality is turning out to be bold.

My fearless Peeper races to the top of a flight of stairs with no sign of caution or hesitation. In fact, she barely needed me as a spotter as she zipped up 15 stairs, even though she’d only tried it once before. And each time I brought her back to the ground level at my parents’ house, she’d turn around and crawl right back.

Ten Thousand Hour Mama
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Drawing blood and drawing strength

catherinemryan

I always look forward to Peeper’s pediatrician check-ups, especially when—like at her 9-month appointment—they don’t involve shots. So a few weeks ago when we headed to the doctor, I was excited.

The check-up went great: Peeper even waved to her doctor. As we were about to leave, the pediatrician looked at one of the routine forms we’d filled out. She paused.

“You have antique furniture?”

Antique might be overstating it, but we do have a few old-ish pieces among the IKEA tables, bookshelves and such.

After asking us a few more questions, the doctor recommended we test Peeper’s blood for lead.

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Yes we can

catherinemryan

Clink, clink, clink. Beer bottle, Pepsi can, Budweiser. Men and women dropped them into the heavy duty garbage bag I held out in front of me. Clink, clink. To my young ears, the noise of aluminum and glass falling into the Hefty sack was the music of money.

Growing up, my dad and I collected cans and bottles then returned them for the 5-cent deposit. I stood outside the gates at University of Oregon Duck football games as fans filed in; I scoured bleachers for left behind “empties”; I hopped out of my dad’s Dodge Caravan at stop signs to snag “nickels” discarded by the side of the road.

Collecting bottles and cans was like a treasure hunt. I trained my elementary school-aged eyes to scan tall grass for the glint of aluminum as we drove along. We celebrated when we found a stash of malt liquor cans on a walk along the river. We never knew when opportunity would present itself, so we went about our errands together as if a cache of cans—just waiting to be transformed into cash—might be waiting for us anywhere if only we were ready.

It was a grand adventure.

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Don’t call my baby a toddler

catherinemryan

“When does a baby become a toddler?”

Some mama friends and I were wrapping up an evening out. We were lingering over our wine or brownies (or, in my case, both) while we waited to pay the check. And I asked this question, which had been on my mind lately.

Peeper pulls herself up with a little leverage from the futon, book shelves, the dresser, the fridge, practically anything. And she cruises along the furniture to get to a book or the remote control when it’s beyond her reach. She also loves “walking” while holding our hands—she can step all the way down the hallway in mere seconds. Kid is fast.

Then last week, she stood up on her own. She was climbing on Eric when she propped herself up and then let go of him altogether. She stood like that for a good long while, at least in baby time, before lowering herself back down.

It may be months before she consistently stands and then walks—the milestone that marks the transition between baby and toddler, so say my mom friends.

But I’m so not ready to have a toddler. Or rather, I’m not ready to not have a baby.

Ten Thousand Hour Mama

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