Throughout the month, I’ve collected little vignettes of Peeper being Peeper. I wrote them down as they happened, not wanting to forget the ordinary yet remarkable moments that make up our days.
I just read over them, and it struck me that most of them revolve around Peeper talking.
As she turns 22 months, she continues to bowl me over with her gift of gab. Whether she’s telling us what she remembers the zoo animals doing at our last visit, repeating nonsense words to herself or telling me she loves me, her mouth is motoring nearly all day.
She wakes up talking. “Change your diaper. Lots of pees in there!” she’ll say as I pull open the blinds.
And after I put her in the crib at night, we hear snippets of toddler monologue through the monitor.
I’m glad I wrote down these interactions—they’re the silly little things I’ll want to tell her about when she’s older. I thought I’d share them on the blog, too. Here, then, is a glimpse listen into Peeper’s world. Read more →
It seems a little late for a Thanksgiving post, but a) I was feeling under the weather over the holiday and didn’t much feel like writing, and b) gratitude doesn’t have an expiration date.
Thanksgiving is one of my favorite days of the year because it’s the perfect time to reflect on the everyday blessings that are easy to take for granted in our busy lives. My family takes turn around the dinner table to say what we’re grateful for (usually while wearing a paper napkin on our head—a weird, inexplicable Ryan tradition).
Allow me, then, to pretend I’m wearing a napkin-hat and share a few things I marveled at over the holiday weekend. How—I mean how?—did I get so lucky? I am thankful for:
These photos were taken at Dorris Ranch, one of my favorite places on earth.Peeper loved the tractor!
These goofballs. There is absolutely no one else I’d rather spend my days with.
Family. Half my siblings live on the opposite end of the country and spent Thanksgiving with friends at a cabin in upstate New York, but my younger sister and her hubby braved the holiday traffic from Seattle to stay with my parents.
I didn’t see my relatives often when I grew up, so I especially value the time Peeper gets to spend with her grandparents, aunties, uncles and cousins. Plus, she’s always learning something from Auntie Amy—this time it was the best puddle-stomping techniques.
Grandpa Shempy joins Peeper for craft time.
Abundance. We have more than enough to meet our needs. Our plates are full, our homes warm, our needs met. We have medical care. We are safe. Our water is clean.
Beyond basic necessities, we are surrounded by those who love us. We also have the opportunity to love others. Is there anything better than that?
Growth. Now that I’m a mama, I get to see the world through Peeper’s eyes. She finds joy in everything—sprinting around her grandparents’ house, feeding Grandpa Shempy’s fish, picking up sticks, hugging Finn and chasing bubbles, to name a few. I, then, get to delight in the these things even more because of her toddler enthusiasm.
The world can feel depressing and cold, especially if you spend much time listening to the news. We could all use more wonder.
I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving, too! What are you grateful for?
Not too long ago, my family was in town visiting. We went to nearby Cook Park, where Peeper stared at someone blowing bubbles. While she and my dad watched, Peeper learned the word and repeated it the rest of the afternoon.
“Buh-buh,” she said, walking around the playground. “Buh-buh, buh-buh.”
Later that night, my dad told me that the last thing my Grandma Ryan—his mom—did before she died was sing. She was lying back in bed and before her last breath left her, she sang the old Don Ho hit “Tiny Bubbles.” She had a gorgeous songbird’s voice, though I have no memory of it.
A few weeks later, we joined my parents in Central Oregon for a few days. My dad brought an industrial-sized bottle of bubbles he’d made a special trip to the store to buy.
We stood among the ponderosa pines and watched as Peeper was mesmerized by the bubbles Grandpa Shempy blew for her. They surrounded us, Peeper rushed to touch them and they floated away on the dry air. Then Grandpa Shempy dipped the wand, took a breath and let fly another cloud of bubbles.
“More, more,” she signed whenever he paused. “Buh-buh!”
My Grandma Ryan died decades before Peeper was born, but I like to think that had they ever met, she would have crooned lullabies and classics and Christmas songs and jingles and silly made-up verses to her great-granddaughter in her lilting soprano, the memory of which still brings tears to my dad’s eyes.
Tiny bubbles
In the wine
Make me happy
Make me feel fine
Tiny bubbles
Make me warm all over
With a feeling that I’m gonna
Love you till the end of time
Throughout the month, I’ve collected little vignettes of Peeper being Peeper. I wrote them down as they happened, not wanting to forget the ordinary yet remarkable moments that make up our days.
