God save the queen sized bed

L to R: Sam, Georgia, Ken

Holy smokes, it's February already. Only 38 days till my half-birthday. The half's a big deal when you can tack it onto six whole years. At seven, I can join the run club at the YMCA. Look out, world!

Ken here -- ready to provide semi-entertaining updates from the Corrigan Conrad abode. We survived January in Minnesota. January is dark. January is cold. January is incessantly gray sky. With 31 short days: January is possibly the longest 31 days of winter. January isn't Christmas anymore, Toto. We survived. With movie nights, game nights, basement dance parties, Nerf gun wars (complete with safety glasses) and purple balloon volleyball games in the living room, we survived January in Minnesota. And that is all. The first days of February have shown us bright blue skies, a few-12-inches of new snow, and precious extra minutes of daylight in the five o'clock hour. Life. Is. Good.

L to R: Sam, Ken

Recently, Dad figured out a way to suspend our queen sized bed some inches from the garage rafters outside. Grandpa Corrigan would say that he "jerry-rigged" the mattress, frame and box spring to accommodate garage space. Dad will say that he engineered a sweet pulley system with bike storage rigs, good strong rope and a bit of human-powered re-bar. Regardless of how it's described, Mom's favorite mattress hovers securely in mid-air, wrapped in plastic, hung for an indefinite period of kid-raising time. Why the queen-sized storage plan, you ask? We converted our guest bedroom into the sweetest dorm room I've ever seen. Home to my sixteen-year-old European sister, Leonie, the room is complete with an IKEA loft, Craigslist dresser, Dad's former desk and Nanny Sarah's college-time popasan chair. We get to keep Leonie through June. I'm secretly hoping to score the room in early July. Will keep you posted.

Sledding!

Mom started this new thing. It's called Breakfast for Dinner (BfD). Typically offered on the evenings when Chef Dad needs a kitchen reprieve, BfD gives us the choice between eggs and toast, French toast, or oatmeal (the five minute cook time oatmeal -- not that one minute business). One BfD night, Mom failed to articulate the mutual agreement necessary for the meal. Thusly, I chose oatmeal, Sam chose eggs and toast; Georgia chose French toast. Realizing her failure to set clear BfD expectations, Mom semi-cheerfully launched into creating a three-dinners-for-one-course meal. All went smoothly: three burners burning, one toaster toasting. Georgia set the table. I poured the milk. Sam sang while looking out the window. At a certain point in the cooking process, Mom's demeanor changed. Let's be real. Managing three burners, one toaster, un-spreadable butter, and an empty stomach: She looked a bit stressed. I calmly hopped onto a chair next to her, put my hand on her should her and said, "Mom, are you alright?" She smiled. Said something about a kitchen novice. Whatever that is. The un-spreadable butter took the brunt of the stress; nothing that seven seconds in the microwave can't cure. All good things, as Olaf says. BfD is a new favorite for us; my oatmeal that night was  delicious.

Georgia: Age 3

A notable milestone happened this week. The Johnson & Johnson two-in-one-body-wash-and-baby-shampoo-bottle-with-the-cool-pump-for-ease-of-soap-in-hand found its way into the recycling bin. That thing has stood -- with its awesome clean-baby scent -- strong and steady, refilled and at the ready, on the bathtub ledge for the last six-and-almost-one-half years. A remarkable stint, really. I think Mom teared up. Probably just an eyeball sensitivity to the new sweet-smelling watermelon bubble gum scented stuff we picked out at the store.

L to R: Sam, Snowman, Ken

Signing off for now -- with just one request, dear reader: I'm on the prowl for some new books. I enjoy a story with a  good sense of humor, and I've recently completed a few books within the Captain Underpants series. (Forgive the crude. But there is something slightly hilarious about bodily functions.) I also dig books about friendships and new adventures. Mom tells me I read at the second grade level. Whatever that means. Any suggestions? Send 'em my way!

Until next time,
Ken

Up, up and away in a manger

Christmas Letter, 2015

Greetings!

As we climb into the holiday season, I'm struck with the notion that the year 2015 has been a worthwhile hike for members of the Corrigan Conrad household. Hikes are good, really. Builds stamina. Brings you to new places. Grants higher perspective. Leads to paths surrounded with sunshine, scenery, companionship. Yet, sometimes the path is steeper than you're ready for. The rain makes for slippy footing, and seeking a new turn takes longer than you want it to. Despite the steeper times (or perhaps because of these times), I contend that we cannot help but embark on the hike, for the human heart strives to be necessary, purpose-filled, and stretched to new limits.

To paths both slippy and sunshine-y, here are just a few highlights of our hike this year:

School-time: We kicked off the 2015-2016 school year in style this fall. Ken marched right into full-day-every day Kindergarten. With 13 fellow classmates, he tells us that his favorite parts of school are lunch time, recess, and hearing the bell ring. His self-introduction to new friends is: “I’m Ken, and I’m into Lego’s and reading. Who are you?” Sam followed suit for the school year, proudly entering half-day-every-day pre-school. He’s discovering a new love for de-coder puzzles and reading at about the same pace as brother Ken. He recently asked Nanny Sarah how plants are built and grow. When Sarah gave him the 101 on DNA and photosynthesis, he tracked right along with the explanation and proceeded to re-teach the lesson at

the dinner table that night. No-school-yet-Georgia enjoys her one-on-one time at home with Nanny Sarah. They’ve found their groove – occasional play dates, a weekly science class at the YMCA, and library story time whenever and wherever it’s found around the metro. Georgia’s doll Joy accompanies her at all times, and when it’s time to curl up with a good book together, Georgia tells me (and Joy) that she’ll do the “reading,” – we can turn the pages.

Work-time: Due in a large part to the best Extension-of-Us-A-Member-of-Our-Family-Super-Care-Giver-Household-Manager-Nanny-Sarah, Adam and I link arms on our hike and bring home the bacon in our own ways. Adam’s entering his third year at United Health Care, and still enjoying the boss, the team, the business. And, after eight years at Target Corp, I watched the

company hike through three rounds of layoffs and a corporate restructure. I made the cut, but after a few phone calls with a few recruiters, I traded my Target red and khaki for some Optum orange. What does this mean, you ask? Optum and United Healthcare are two parts of the same company, United Health Group. While Adam works to “help people live healthier lives,” I work to “make the healthcare system better for everyone.” We’re learning more about the healthcare industry than we ever thought we would, enjoying a commute together to-and-from work. Change is good. And while being new to an organization presents its own steepness, the refreshed outlook and the job security lets us continue our hike with a skip in our step and a few dreams in our pockets. 

Celebration-time: We rang in summer and fall this year with valuable celebrations. Summer found us on a few different lakes with family and friends. Ken Sam and Georgia launched into their love for swimming and boating. Ken even took his first back-of-the-boat tube ride. This, coupled with campfires and s’mores in Wisconsin, made for some priceless memories. Three birthdays, two friend weddings and one anniversary later, it’s slightly amazing to think that Ken is age six already, Sam five, Georgia three, and Adam and I have been married for seven years. Time flies when the hike stays interesting. We’re surrounded regularly with snippets such as: “Hey Sam, how fast can you say Kit-Kat?” And, “Dad, we built three snowmen today – and used ice-frickels for the noses!” Or, “Hey, Mom,” (with toy-stethoscope in hand), “Want me to take your heart?” Morsels like these keep the celebratory spirit of our hike alive and well.

Austria-time: (Not Australia. Austria.) In the spirit of cheerful giving, we welcomed 16-year-old Leonie into our home this November. She gives us a glimpse of life-at-sixteen, shows Ken, Sam and Georgia that the world is bigger than the United States, and introduces all of us to wonderful new German words like Sachertorte. (It’s a Christmas cake!) Leonie will be with us through June next year, and we couldn’t be more excited to continue swapping stories, experiences and traditions through 2016.

Father-time: On a slipperier note, Adam’s father passed away this December. He put in quite the hike, and we are all better people because we knew him and loved him. An example to all fathers everywhere: Grandpa Ken lived with an open mind and an accepting heart. As our hike continues, it’s my hope that we stay brave enough to model his love, and strong enough to carry his legacy. Grandpa Ken: While we trust that you’re happily re-united with your bride and enjoying sips of an eternal whiskey old-fashioned, we miss you. You are deeply loved and forever a part of us.

As our hike continues, prost (cheers!) to you and your family this blessed Christmas season. We wish you a hike with heart-stretching happenings – and a 2016 that is abundantly joyful.

Happy holidays!

Adam, Molly, Ken, Sam, Georgia, and Leonie

Lunar eclipse of the heart

First day of school!

I know ... I'm overdue for any sort of update on summer, much less any sort of musings about fall. I know. Forgive me dear reader. I have much on my mind. Much on my mind. And sometimes, the way to work through the mind-much-ness is to simply stay present -- to be where your feet are -- until the time is right for reflection. Ah, it's nice to be back in the blog seat.

Molly here. (Yes, Ken's more light-hearted stories will make a thundering return -- soon.) A writing professor once advised to always write what's on your mind. Because if you're thinking of and feeling something authentically, often, your story will write itself. And so, I offer you, dear reader, a story of authentic thoughts. Grab an adult beverage, a comfy chair, and watch as this story writes (rights?) itself.

A Sam note

Almost five-year-old-Sam is practicing his penmanship. His R's are crooked; his S's backward. His word love is lopsided, and the dot of his exclamation point consistently bleeds into the bottom part of the exclamation stick. I'm regularly greeted with hand-crafted notes and pictures -- some taped right to the closet door, others propped up against anything that stands still. Messages of care, curiosity and unabashed love shout from his pages, and I can't help but smile. "I love you too, Sam," I say. "To the moon and back. Thank you for your great note!" He grins, proud of himself.

And I can't help but think: Wouldn't it be so easy if love were as simple as Sam's V and inverted 3? If love were as straightforward as the rush of his embrace and the ease of his smile? When we're young, we hear "I love you," and we readily love back. As a christian, we hear, "...the greatest of these is love," and "...love the Lord your God with all your heart." We hear this, we see this, we learn this, and we think, OK -- I got this. Here we go. Loving.

Sam: Age 4

And it is good. We learn how to love and be loved. We feel love as bright, strong, full and pure as the moon. To the moon and back.

We grow up. We discover. We experience. Things happen. And for one reason or another, love doesn't feel as bright, strong, pure as the moon. In fact, to the moon and back is far too long of a journey, and there's a shadow to our moon that makes loving really ... hard. We try, to readily love back,  but quite frankly, someone or something has let us down. A broken friendship. An unexpected death. An admired leader admitting alcoholism. A job offer unexpectedly withdrawn. An abusive, controlling ex-husband refusing to move on. A mentor admitting an affair. A mass layoff event. We're angry, disappointed. We want to believe in more. Our moon is eclipsed; our spirit feels dark. It's difficult to love.

Lunar Eclipse

What once was easy and pure and strong is suddenly not, and we're looking for a new way to  love. A new way to feel our fullness. I contend that as a kid, we love by learning to love back. And as we grow up, we love by learning to forgive. Not that profound, really -- and sounding downright church-y, I know. And it's hard. Who wants to forgive? Forgiveness involves relaxing one's emotion, letting the offender off the hook, and in some cases letting go of what once was, and may still be, of value to you. Forgiveness is especially difficult when an apology doesn't exist. I'll take the simplicity of Sam's love instead, thank you very much.

Mom and Sam

And yet, realization strikes. If I don't let go of my resentment, or invest my energy in learning to forgive, then I'll be anchored to an endless cycle of restlessness and cynicism. Who wants to be that crabby? That disconnected? That dark? Not I. And so, I look for examples, role models, good forgivers. And I think to myself, how best do I authentically emulate this forgiveness? What mantras or techniques may help me to let go, to open my heart, to out-run my lunar eclipse? Let me start today. Because life is not meant for shadowed living.

And so, dear reader, here's to the journey of loving and being loved. Here's to the hard work of forgiving and being forgiven. Let us always remember that life is not for shadowed living, and that what connects us all is strong, simple, bright and pure. Here's to loving to the moon and back.

Until next time,
Molly

Jump for joy juice

Ken (5) Sam (4) Georgia (3)

We're jumping to the tune of summer these days -- amid really green grass, thunderstorms, neighborhood friends, and four new trees in our backyard. Ken here -- to report that life is a-okay. (An aside: I love summer. Days are longer, sun is sunnier, birds are bird-ier. I do think this month is the reason most people decide to stay living in Minnesota.)

Georgia scored herself a birthday last week. She's three big ones --

Georgia: Cake batter!

although, when you ask her, she'll tell you that she's five. She positively owned that chocolate batter in the mixing bowl, and when it came time to choose her cupcake, she (wisely) selected the one with the most rainbow sprinkles. Promptly after unwrapping a yarn-haired, ever-smiling rag doll, she embraced its cotton-filled person and aptly named it Joy. Happy birthday, Georgia!

Mom and I are biking together as of late. She on her low cross-bar-basket-sporting-blue-streak, and I on my super-awesome-kid-bike-with-no-training-wheels. We pedal along at a whopping 5 mph and typically cover about four miles with each ride. I'm getting better at the hills; now I simply need a way to go faster.

Sam and G: Finding bugs

Sam's leading the charge on the bug hunts this summer. Spiders don't frighten him the same way they do me [insert high-pitched scream here], and Sam has a knack for finding caterpillars. At first we tried to keep the caterpillars in a bug-friendly mason jar, but after three attempts at storing these furry friends for easy viewing and conversation -- alas -- none survived. Instead, we discovered a local nature center: one that houses all sorts of bugs for our temporary capture-and-chat-pleasure. Totally. Awesome.

Catching bugs

Occasionally, we'll score an evening movie night with Mom and Dad. One rainy week in June, Mom allowed each of us to choose one movie-to-borrow from the library. (Sweet!) I chose Sleeping Beauty. Georgia chose 101 Dalmatians. Sam chose a documentary on birds.

Dad's home-brew season is in full swing. His slightly upgraded brewing equipment is wheeled to the center of the backyard for each 4-6 hour brew session. After it sits for a select number of weeks to properly ferment, the barley pop is kegged at the basement bar (dubbed Conrad's Tavern), and ready for consumption. Currently on tap: A light-hopped session ale, and a summer saison. Yum. (Says Mom), and come on over! (says I).

Dress up!

As the moments are rarely dull around here, Mom asked me to share a few memorable dialogues.

Georgia: Mom, Mom, Mom.
Mom: What, Georgia?
Georgia: I put my nightmare in my PJ drawer.
Mom: Your nightmare? Did you have a bad dream?
Georgia: No, I put my nightmare in my PJ drawer.
Mom: Oh, yes. Your nightgown. That's a smart place for it.

Dad: Yes,when ice gets warm, it turns to water.
Ken: I know. And when water gets warm, it turns to air.
Dad: Um, you're right.
Ken: And that means the whole world is wet.

Georgia & Joy

Georgia: (At the close of meal-time prayer) Scoop in!
Sam: Do you mean dig in?
Georgia: Yep! Scoop in!

Ken: (with Georgia) Mom, mom, mom. I'm good at catching!
Mom: Really? What are you catching?
Ken: I'm catching Joy!

Godspeed, dear reader! And may you also find yourself good at catching joy as we jump into these early days of summer. Until next time --
Ken

Staying a-float up in the air

Ken: Growing sunflowers

Greetings, my fine readers!

Ken here -- assuming my proper penning post as the eldest cherub of the Corrigan Conrad household. I'm feeling like a bit of a shirker in my blog duties, for the pace of this springtime has been one unmatched in recent years. That is to say, we're not overly busy. We're simply working through more than a few transitions as of late. And transitions, I'm told, can leave a body up in the air: lifted a few inches of the ground, searching for the swiftest way to rid the mind and heart of the beat of the unknown, the rhythm of a holding pattern and wait-and-see circumstance.

Bikes!

Allow me to share a few of the more interesting transitions as of late. Some have raced themselves to resolution, others are still floating those precious inches, looking for a landing one step at a time.

The bike: I acquired a pedal bike from the Easter Bunny. Dad acquiesced to the need for training wheels while I learned the finer points of actually pedaling while balancing on a bike. (For, when a guy grows up on a Strider bike, this concept of balance-while-pedal can be a trifle overwhelming.) I'm proud to say that I shed those training wheels faster than a winter coat in July, and the ride's never been more fun.

The book:I can read! The narration is a bit choppy, varies in volume, and sometimes trips over those tricky silent letters, but bit by bit, I'm the master of my own adventure, flipping from page one to page last with ease and confidence. Some favorites: Go Dog, Go, The B Book, Hop on Pop and The Berenstain Bears Tell the Truth. Any other recommendations for me, dear reader? Wait and see: I plan to be a regular at the local library this summer.

L to R: Sam, Ken, Georgia

The nanny: Bria hung with us for 21 weeks and 6 days -- just missing our average nanny tenure of 22 weeks. We just like her. We're transitioning now to new-nanny-Sarah, who seems to fit the bill nicely. Note: The common denominator in almost all nannies hired by mom and dad these last two years: They're rock stars. I know this because -- after a few months on board -- each of the rock stars falls in love with us and then lands smack dab at the start of a dream job. Do you know anyone in search of a dream job? Send them my way! I'll teach 'em how to be my nanny, after-which, all of said nanny's career aspirations will begin falling into place.

Ken & Sam: Swimming

The pool: I'm so proud of Sam. In six short weeks, he's transitioned from a primal fear of water to a regular tadpole. We've been hanging out at the YMCA one night per week in order to improve our aquatic skill, and I do believe we're both fully ready for the water holes of Minnesota this summer. Bring on the sunscreen and the life jackets! We're ready.

Georgia: Age 2

The toilet: The sibling pride extends to my kid sister. Gone are the days of diaper bags and wet wipes, for it's Georgia's grim determination that's transitioned her from the blue potty chair to the porcelain god of body waste. Georgia's the only almost-three-year-old who thinks she's five, and if you tell her she's too little to do what Sam and I are doing, you'd better duck. Far be it for Georgia to be left behind. Buckle up. She's a woman who knows what she wants.

The place-of-employment:These are turbulent times at Mom's place place of employment, and while Mom's still gainfully employed there, she says that it's by far one of the most intriguing experiences in her professional career. While the pundits claim the company's transformation will set a new pace for this almost-international retailer, the current transition leaves those still employed feeling a bit up in the air, wondering just what's around the next corner, and attempting to land one step at a time. 

Sam: Finding caterpillars

And...the season:One full day of school remains, then we'll launch into three glorious months of schedule-free days full of outdoor extravaganzas like picnics in the park, dips in the local pool, and regular searches for caterpillars, lightening bugs and mosquito spray. We'll fill our evenings with new-found bike paths and chocolate dipped ice cream cones; perhaps an outdoor movie or two. Mom says we might even try camping this summer.

Until next time, dear reader, may this note find you working through your own transitions with a skip in your step and a prayer in your heart. And if you're feeling a bit up in the air, a-floating through your own holding pattern, know that you're not alone. What challenges you changes you, and change is the stuff of life. Keep growing, keep going, and know that you'll land on your feet, one step at a time.
 -- Ken

Fast-forward, march!

(L to R: Ken 5,
Georgia 2
Sam 4)

“Mom-mom-mom.” My name has become three syllables. “Mom-mom-mom, did you know? Did you know that the calendar says March?” And, as he stomps rhythmically in place, “Mom-mom-mom, did you know that this is a march, too? Look, I’m marching, and it’s March! Isn’t that cool?”

In all of his four years, Sam continues to march to the beat of his own drum, and regularly makes connections that keep me smiling to myself. Yes, we’re marching – marching through 2015 with eyes wide open: striving to keep the balance of time, health and fun. (Anyone else meet a late March deadline for both their new year’s resolutions and their taxes?) Not pulling any punches here – the last three months have been a healthy challenge. Nothing wrong with a good, healthy challenge. (As long as there’s ice cream.)

Here’s a smattering of lessons learned:

• Lesson one: Nannies can quit with two-day’s notice, pending a decision of a nanny’s fiance to

  

  Sam, Ken, Georgia &
  Class Pet, Fluffy

  move out-of-state.
• Lesson two: Head lice is contagious. The Lice Lady is your friend.
• Lesson three: The faithfully departed are with us always. I miss my mother-in-law. She always said, “Time marches on, and people grow up. And that’s okay.” But watching my husband and sisters and brothers-in-law prepare their childhood home for sale, and care for my father-in-law is not easy on the heart.
• Lesson four: Your place of employment is not a loyal relationship. Always build your network. And update your resume.
• Lesson five: Waiting in the license renewal line at the DMV on a Saturday is more fun when you bring your three toddlers and the class pet, Fluffy (stuffed).
• Lesson six: Spring arrives early, sometimes.
• Lesson seven: A few good friends, a loyal spouse, three hilarious children, and quality ice-cream (Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia or Haagen Daz Dulce de Leche, please) is all that’s needed to make you know that life is good – and it’s best to soldier on -- keep marching.

L to R: Sam, Ken, Georgia

And so, we soldier on -- my hubby, three cherubs and me -- marching forward, heads high, ready for

 what's just around the bend. And in our quest to keep the balance of time, health and fun, we declare our blessings, attempt to slow the pace of each day, and keep each other from taking life all too seriously. For, as any good soldier knows, it's the healthy challenges that make life worth living. Best to keep the wind at your back, an angel on your shoulder, and a swift sense of humor at the ready.

And so, loyal reader, as you march around the next corner, here are a few toddler sayings to keep you ever-light-of heart. 

On sharing:

• New nanny Bria: Today we're going to learn about states! And Georgia, did you know that you have your very own state?
• Ken: Um... Bria, it's not Georgia's state. It's all of our's state. In this house, we share.

On memory:

• Sam: Bria, what's your favorite vegetable?
• Bria: I told you yesterday. Do you remember?
• Sam: No.
• Ken: He's actually so smart that there isn't any more room in his head to remember.

On spooky movies:

• Georgia: The ghost movie is scoopy.
• Dad: Spooky movies are no good. Which other movie should we watch?
• Georgia: Let's watch the boom-pas.
• Dad: Right. The umpa-lumpas.

Until next time,

Molly

Happy new year to remember

Happy New Year's Eve! 

In the spirit of documenting this journey called life, Mom's posted her Christmas letter for ease of access -- and for the enjoyment of those who may not have received a paper copy.

Cheers to 2014, and happy new year!

Ken

Christmas preparation has taken an online flavor this year as we balance the not-so-demanding-yet-ever-constant-requirements of Corrigan-Conrad life. Three cheers for free shipping! I hope this message finds you relaxing amid a handful of Christmas cards – perhaps sipping your favorite adult beverage as you read along.

Five-year-old Ken started swimming lessons. Note: He doesn't love swimming. Just the lessons. This week I watched as Ken and his fellow guppy-level swimmers latched themselves to the pool wall – birds on a wire – each awaiting a rotating 20 seconds of away-from-the-wall-teacher time. Smiling and splashing all the way. Ken saw me watching him and waved wildly – “Hi, Mom!” Beaming. (An aside: When did he get so tall? And, for how much longer can I watch with unabashed adoration before he responds instead with a semi-embarrassed wave and a mumble? I digress.)

His swimming lesson report card reads proficient in all but one guppy-level activity. “Comfortable with his face in the water” – not yet proficient. I don’t blame the kid. Who really wants to hold your breath, close your eyes and listen to the world disappear as you dunk your head underwater? Not unless my feet touch the floor at all times, thank you very much.

Interestingly enough, our 2014 asked us to put our face in the water a few more times than we’d planned.  And, when your feet stop touching the floor, it really doesn't matter how deep the water is. You hold your breath, close your eyes, and learn to swim together.

Four-year-old Sam goes to preschool now. Three mornings per week of school prove to be just the right recipe for practicing his social skills, putting on his listening ears, and solidifying his love of reading, writing, drawing, singing, and talking to anyone who’s ready (or not ready) to listen. His incessant chatter and ceaseless singing keeps us ever light-of-heart. When dressing for school one morning, Sam donned his best church pants and his Beatles t-shirt. Dad, ever the proponent of allowing age-appropriate decisions (and the Beatles), gently reminded Sam that his church pants should be swapped for a school pair. “Oh, that’s right,” Sam smiled and said matter-of-factly. “These are my funeral pants.”

Learning to swim together, we said goodbye to three beloved family members this year: Adam’s mom and brother, and my grandfather. All three lived good, full lives and shaped each of us in ways for which we’ll forever be grateful. Note: Sometimes it’s your children who prove the strongest of swimmers. Ken regularly reminds us that it’s okay to be sad, but God wants us back in Heaven with him, so we’ll see them all again when we get there.

Thirty-something-year-old Adam ended his role as household manager and launched into a full-time job. Having re-entered the workforce for a full year now, he’s traded playdates and walks to the park for spreadsheets, conference calls and a corporate vocabulary. The job is treating him right.

Learning to swim together, I decided to continue working full time, and we sprang into our first-ever search for child care. Two rock-star temporary nannies and one not-quite-the-right-fit-nanny later, we’ve welcomed into our home a full-time, long-term regular Mary Poppins. Ken, Sam and Georgia adore Stacie, and the household runs in a way that makes her another member of our family.

Still on the younger side of two, Georgia is our only two year old who wants to be five. She keeps up with her brothers the best ways she knows how, talks almost as much as Sam does, and steals your heart on a regular basis. Once, while settling her in her car seat on our way to the library – me in my winter hat, tousled hair and yoga pants – Georgia put her hand on my arm, kissed my cheek and said, “Mom. You beautiful.”

And so it goes. While we may not be proficient at putting our face in the water, we’re swimming together this year to more than a few valuable lessons – so grateful for the friends and family with us along the way.

Merry Christmas to you, and may your 2015 be abundantly joyful.

Love, Molly