Welcome to the world, Kiwi!

Baby Kiwi is born! Ten Thousand Hour MamaWe are beyond thrilled that our sweet, darling Kiwi has joined us!

Maxine Elizabeth Griffin Gregory was born Sunday, July 19, though it took us until minutes before discharge before settling on her name.

“Kiwi is a beautiful name!” the pediatrician on the floor reassured us. “You could always stick with Kiwi.”

I spent most of my labor at home, using HypnoBirthing breathing techniques, baking cookies (but leaving plenty of raw dough to eat after delivery!) and trying to sleep. My mom arrived to watch Peeper at the perfect time—just when I knew we needed to head to the hospital. We were a few minutes away from Labor and Delivery when they told us they were on divert, so we turned around and drove across town to another one.

Thank goodness we went on a Sunday and there was no traffic, because Kiwi was born an hour later.

Meeting the new baby - Ten Thousand Hour MamaShe and I are both healthy, and we were fortunate to avoid complications and interventions. We have been spending the last few days getting to know each other as a new family of four!

Peeper is very excited to be a big sister. She wants to help with diaper changes, watch Kiwi breastfeed and bring toys—though she’s having a hard time sharing some things (e.g. Mom’s lap and the Moses basket, of all things).

Thank you for all your support, encouragement and kind words over the last 40 weeks. I feel so very lucky to bring Kiwi into a world where love, compassion, empathy and love are the rule.

Mama baby skin to skin

Big Sister is ready to bond with the baby

Peeper is so excited about welcoming the new baby. It is beyond precious to see her bond with the baby while I’m still pregnant.

Big sister has already begun to bond with the baby. Welcoming a new baby to the family: Big sibling edition. Ten Thousand Hour Mama

“Want to open that baby!” Peeper will say, lifting up my shirt or, more awkwardly, my dress.

She puts her hands on my round bump and leans in close, her nose almost touching my belly button.

And she smiles.

Peeper has already begun to bond with the baby. She asks to see her, brings her toys, asks me to sing her little sister a song, puts the spout of her sippy cup on my belly and gives her hugs. Sometimes she’ll shyly wave.

Some mornings when I lift Peeper out of the crib, her first request is, “Wanna see the baby.” She’ll stand in her jammies with her halo of curls mussed every which way and place her hands on my bump. Her dimples are never as precious as when she shares a smile with her unborn sister. Their bond is already strong. Read more

Ups, downs and change: Our weekend recap

Swimming in the Clackamas RiverWhen I worked at College Possible Portland, a nonprofit that helped low-income high schoolers get into and graduate from college, we often ended the week reviewing the ups, downs and what we’d change. Allow me to steal the format for today’s blog!

Ups

Swimming in the Clackamas River
Peeper isn’t hitting me; she’s getting the baby wet!

Swimming It’s still blazing-hot hereabouts, so we went swimming in the Clackamas River at Milo McIver State Park (yes, still one of our favorite places to be!). Peeper is her happiest in water, and I’m carrying a 38-week-old furnace, so splashing in the river was pretty much the best.

Peeper’s birthday party We didn’t throw a party for Peeper’s first birthday and I knew I wanted to do a little something this year. I considered canceling it (see the downs below) but am so glad I didn’t. Peeper and her friends had a wonderful time painting and playing in the water, and we got to properly break in our newly fenced front yard! More about the party in a later post.

Seeing family Much of my side of the family came in for Peeper’s birthday party, and I’m always grateful when the Ryans are around! After the party we watched the U.S. women’s soccer team beat Japan (in style!), eat pizza and play video games. As we drove away from my brother’s house, I was overwhelmed with the wish that we’d all live near each other permanently. My brother recently moved to Portland, so that leaves only two more siblings to get down here!

This up was a little bittersweet, though, because Eric’s parents were meant to have arrived this weekend, too. They had to delay their trip out to deal with some health stuff (good thoughts/prayers/internet love to my mother-in-law much appreciated!), which is important and necessary, but we still missed them. In fact we re-sang Happy Birthday to Peeper so we could record it and send it to them! Peeper didn’t mind. 😉

Downs

Cornhole
Uncle Sean asks for Peeper’s help to win Cornhole at a 4th of July BBQ.

Fireworks Ah, the holiday my noise-phobic toddler and high-anxiety dog love the most! Happy 4th of July! Call me a grump, but I hoped every single boom was the last. We will not be spending Independence Day in town next year. You can find us running away to the mountains somewhere fireworks are illegal.

No sleep Ironically, Peeper slept a few hours through the fireworks and woke up shortly they were finished—and wouldn’t go back to sleep. It was horrible. She hasn’t had a night like that in… oh, a year and a half? We finally left her to cry herself to sleep and she passed out around 5:30, a half-hour before I’d set my alarm to prepare for her party.

Eating struggles I should apologize to all my friends who have to hear the latest tale about how Peeper just doesn’t eat. Not that she’s picky in a I’ll-only-eat-chicken-nuggets kind of way, but in the sense she’s completely uninterested in food. It was worse than usual on Saturday, which led to my redefinition of a meal on Sunday because hey, at least Ritz peanut butter sandwiches and ice cream are calories!

Change

Here’s where I mess up the format. I wouldn’t change anything (except maybe the fact I got 2 hours of sleep on Saturday). Every experience, both good and bad, shapes me as a person and a mother. I learn from some of it (leaving town on the 4th!) and revel in the rest (treasuring the memory of Peeper “getting the baby wet” in the river).

How about you? How was your holiday weekend?

For the love of Mexican music

Peeper has found a new passion.

We were out to dinner in Seattle (at Mama’s in Belltown) this week, and Peeper was teetering on the edge of Meltdown Canyon. She had been going to sleep much later and skipping naps altogether in our few days out of town, and I was beginning to think that a sit-down dinner in a restaurant was simply asking too much. But we’d already ordered, so we made a go of it.

That’s when the music started.

Toddler Mexican ballad music
The musicians even let Peeper strum the guitar; this is her clapping and strumming along.

Read more

Father’s Day: 10 reasons why my husband is an amazing dad

Toddler and dad blow dandelion father's dayAbout a month ago, I tooted my own horn spoke the truth about how I am a really, really good mother. Well, the same goes for Eric, my forever person and father to our wonderful Peeper and Kiwi.

I know him well enough to be fairly certain that he’ll feel all embarrassed by this post (just as he was extremely awkward when I shared with the world that he’d been awarded the educator of the week—something especially noteworthy, I think, because he teaches special ed and this is his first year as full-time teacher. Heck yeah, I’m proud!). But he can just deal, because I’m going to sing his praises anyway!

Dad hugging newborn dad carrying baby hazelnut orchard Eugene Oregon Dorris ParkDad baby Timbers soccer game PortlandTen ways Eric is a wonderful father barely scratches the surface, but these reasons give a glimpse into how lucky our family is to have him. I couldn’t ask for a better partner in the crazy and rewarding whirlwind of parenthood.

Happy Father’s Day, my love. Read more

A (very unconventional) baby shower for #2

When my sisters emailed me about the need to start planning a baby shower for Kiwi, I told them no. “People don’t throw a shower for second babies,” I told them.

The idea of registering for things we didn’t need, playing games and opening a mountain of presents in front of guests—read, the usual baby shower—didn’t appeal.

Undeterred, my sisters convinced me by proposing a thoroughly unconventional baby shower (or sprinkle, as some folks call the more minimal baby showers).

Pirate Putt-Putt Baby Shower Black light putt putt baby shower Read more

Happy campers: Camping with kids

Happy campers family camping toddler tent

S’mores, winding down around the camp fire and more stars in the sky I’d ever seen: Camping while I was a kid became one of my favorite family activities. We were (nudge, nudge) happy campers!

With the Memorial Day weekend just hours away, I’ve been thinking about those experiences in the great outdoors and planning a few for our family this summer. With Kiwi due in July, we’ll likely be keeping our ambitions modest, but still—our tent and hobo pie makers are calling me.

I wrote a guide to family camping in this month’s Metro Parent (see it here in a link or PDF!) with suggestions of the Northwest’s best yurts, car camping sites and backpacking trips. I also gathered great advice from family camping experts on how to make outdoorsy trips fun for the whole crew.

My favorite tip, from Bonnie Henderson, author of Best Hikes with Kids: Oregon:

“Hiking with kids is all about having them have an experience outside, so it’s not about how far you go or the destination. When you go with the kid agenda, it’s about just being outside and having fun.”

I wanted to soak up all the advice, considering our own first family camping trip had its share of ups and downs.

In preparation for this year’s camping season, do you have any tips for family camping? Please share!

A mother’s gratitude to the ugliness of boxing

If your Facebook feed is anything like mine, updates about the Mayweather-Pacquiao fight flooded your feed over the weekend.

Even though my dad was an amateur boxer before he became a college professor (and has the artfully rearranged nose to prove it), I have zero interest in boxing. I may go so far to say it disgusts me. Lovers of boxing have many reasons for defending the sport, and I won’t get into a tit for tat argument about its merits here. Suffice to say I’m not a fan.

I was grateful for one thing amid the hype about zillion-dollar purses and winning streaks, though: The hugely anticipated match made many of us confront the ugliness of domestic abuse and the glorification of violence.

Floyd Mayweather, I learned through links that friends posted on Facebook, is a convicted domestic abuser (pleading guilty to a misdemeanor in order to avoid felony charges). The most chilling article I read included an image of his then-10-year-old son’s description of Merryweather beating his wife—and taking away all the phones in the house so no one could call the police. You’d be hard-pressed to find someone who would call Mayweather a decent human being—at least with a straight face.

Yet I am not surprised. The man has a garage full of Ferraris thanks to his skill at beating opponents unconscious. What’s more, entire arenas fill to watch—and cheer—as he unleashes his every violent impulse. Is it any wonder he beats women—bashing their heads into car doors or pummeling them while his children watch?

Of course not every boxer is a beast. My dad is just one example, as is Manny Pacquiau, who in his spare time (ha!) is a semi-professional basketball player, singer, actor and member of the Philippine House of Representatives. Proponents will say boxing teaches restraint, skill and determination. But at its core, boxing glorifies and encourages violence.

I thought a lot about what this means for my almost-two-year-old daughter and her sister growing inside me. To start, we will not be contributing to the madness that surrounds matches like the one Mayweather won on Saturday night (even if Eric likes to watch them, and even if we had the spare money to throw down hundreds of dollars to watch it). I want no part in contributing to the payout of a man like Mayweather, even indirectly. That’s the easy step.

I will also read and contribute to conversations about domestic violence and abuse. Stigma and fear envelop victims—and protect perpetrators, which only ensures the violence will continue; outsiders’ silence makes us complicit.

I cannot bear to think of my daughter becoming entangled in an abusive relationship. I am not so naïve to think that any amount of advocacy and education could entirely wipe out the scourge of domestic abuse, but awareness and discussion like that which accompanied Saturday’s match helps.

I will do my best to raise daughters who are advocates for themselves. I will do my best to teach them that no one has the right to belittle, manipulate or harm them in any way.

I will also do my best to instill fairness, kindness and empathy as core values. No one—including girls and women—should abuse their power over another, especially a loved one.

And I will hug my daughter extra-tight. I will welcome our second child into the world with as much love as is possible—and then some, because somehow having a baby exponentially expands your capacity to love. I will raise these children the best I can and work every single day to ensure them a bright future—one without fear of people like Mayweather.

National Domestic Violence 24/7 Hotline

National Coalition Against Domestic Violence

Goose eggs and gratitude

It’s been a hard week ’round these parts.

It started one day with Peeper throwing up at breakfast. She must have caught the GI bug that’s going around lately. I didn’t feel great, either, but powered through and managed to get some work done.

The next day, while she and Nana were at the grocery store, she bumped into a wire rack at the end of one of the aisles. The whole thing crashed down on her, and she ended up with two big goose eggs—and a trip to the doctor.

She’s fine, thank goodness, despite the bruises and bumps.

doctor's office Ten Thousand Hour MamWe then had a few nice days where we both felt fine, so we spent the weekend hiking, throwing sand in the Willamette River and enjoying the sun.

Milo McIver State Park hike toddlerThen a few nights ago I became violently ill. I was sick all night and still can’t eat or hardly drink anything—a condition that’s especially rough when you’re pregnant.

Throughout it all, though, I can focus on what I’m grateful for. Read more

Cookie Painting: No-frosting sugar cookies

Sugar cookies no frosting decorations

A few times a year when I was growing up, my mom would break out the cookie cutters and we’d decorate sugar cookies. But we never had icing bags or tubs of frosting—no, no, no. Instead, we were the only family I knew that specialized in no-frosting sugar cookies. How did we do it? (And how did the kids not complain about the lack of the crazy-sugary icing?) Two words: Painting cookies.

Yessssss.

Painting cookies always seemed like a big event. We’d sort through the mountain of semi-misshapen airplanes, giraffes, gingerbread men and stars, picking out the ones for my mom to use. (There was never any question whether we’d select the Mystery Cookie Cutter, which looked kind of like California and kind of like a stretched-out stocking, of course.) She would lay out the raw dough on cookie sheets, and we kids would go at ’em.

Fluorescent sprinkles, those silver balls that I’m pretty sure were supposed to be inedible, and red hots—which everyone liked to use but no one except my older sister liked to actually eat—were all fair game. And under it all was painting cookies, a Ryan family technique that involves just egg wash and food coloring for no-frosting sugar cookies. They were delicious and fun to make.

We’d sweep up silver balls and wipe up sprinkles for weeks to come, but the mess was always worth the fun. (Isn’t it always?) Read more