motherhood

Swimming in the kitchen

catherinemryan

The other day I came home to find a swimming pool inflated in my kitchen.

I had been writing at the library and my mom was watching Peeper. When I got back, my munchkin was splashing in a kiddie pool indoors. She was loving it, of course.

I would never have thought to blow up the pool inside and let Peeper go at it, but that’s just what Grandma did—and continues to do. She’s set up the pool a few other times and even bought one for her house for when Peeper visits the grandparents.

I want our home to be a place where spontaneity is the rule, where an unexpected adventure can crop up on the most mundane afternoon, where fun trumps conventionality. The environment can have unintended benefits too. My kitchen floor, for example, has never been cleaner.

Peeper the water weasel

catherinemryan

Yesterday Peeper graduated from her first swim class.

Ok, maybe “graduated” is too fancy a word. But her first swimming lessons ended, and she got a certificate, so that counts, right?

Peeper squeals and bucks her whole body in excitement when we put on her swim diaper and when we walk up to the local Y. She knows what’s going on.

Her joy overflows the minute she sticks her toes in the water. She must remember the version of “If You’re Happy and You Know It” that we sing in class—the part that says “If you’re happy and you know it splash your hands”—because she slaps water from the beginning of class to the end.

“She’s like one of those wind up toys,” her teacher told me the last day of class. “You know, the ones that you wind up, set in the water and watch as they swim away?”

Yep, that’s her.

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Six awkward (and sometimes gross) mom moves

catherinemryan

Once upon a time, before Peeper was even a gleam in my eye, my husband and I visited his brother’s family in Michigan. He and his wife had just had a boy, their first child, and I was thrilled to meet my first nephew.

The ensuing days were like a crash course introduction to what motherhood actually looks like. Much of the trip is now a blur—it was about eight years ago, after all—but I distinctly remember my sister-in-law scraping out a bit of wax from her son’s ear.

Ewww, I thought. I’ll never do that.

HA!

I have, indeed, pulled that mom move, along with many others that are sometimes weird and occasionally gross. Here’s a list of just a few of the weird things only moms understand. Read more →

Perchance to dream

catherinemryan

The other day, I witnessed a minor miracle. Peeper took a long afternoon nap.

The nap in question was so long, in fact, that I had to wake her. It was 5 o’clock and I didn’t want to completely throw off her bedtime.

I snuck into her room. She was out cold. Instead of throwing open the blinds, though, I sat down next to the crib and rested my forehead on the slats. I sat quietly and watched her sleep.

She was lying on her stomach with her rump stuck in the air. One cheek was smooshed on the mattress. Her eyelids fluttered and her lips pursed. She was dreaming.

Ten Thousand Hour Mama

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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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Don’t follow this advice

catherinemryan

Worst baby advice // new parents // kids // Ten Thousand Hour Mama

It’s almost a cliché that once you become a parent, everyone—friends, family, randos on the playground—are suddenly an expert at how to raise your child. Sometimes the advice is helpful; sometimes it’s ridiculous; most of the time it’s confusing. (And sometimes it’s obnoxious enough to inspire a rant by yours truly and make me swear off online parenting advice altogether, like this.) But the worst parenting advice seems to find us all, new parents and veterans alike.

Every so often, a mother-to-be or new mama asks me for advice. I could say a lot about getting help with breastfeeding (if you choose to go that route), finding support in other mothers, bringing spare onesies when you fly and plenty of other tips. But what I usually say instead goes something like this:

You are the expert on your baby. You carried her for 40 weeks; you know her better than anyone else in the world. Do what you feel is right and ignore the other advice. Be confident that you will make the best choices for your baby and your family.

I’m grateful to the people who told me something similar. They gave me the support and confidence to follow my own parenting path (one that my husband and I walk together, of course).

Ten Thousand Hour Mama

Here is the worst parenting advice I’m glad I ignored.

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