Father Son and Holy Spirit of the Season

The word: I'm feeling particularly Christian today. The baptism festivities included thirty-six relatives, 11 to-be-baptized babies, seven containers of left-over pulled pork, two pans of hashbrown-n-egg bake, some oil, some water, a candle and one Catholic church. What a ceremony! Special thanks to both of my grandmas for the party preparations and to all of you Corrigan/Conrads who made the trek to Minnesota for my baptism weekend!

It's been about six weeks since my last entry; apologies for the dry spell. The weeks have been a blur of fast fun and friendly happenings. We spent a week or so at Grandma Corrigan's house for Thanksgiving. I met all eight of my cousins; we even posed together for a few grandkid pics. December finds us finishing house projects, preparing for Christmas, shoveling the driveway and other sundries.

In other news, Mom tells me that my eyebrows and eyelashes are officially grown; last week Dad commented on the size of my melon. Apparently one's body has to grow into the size of its head. I'll keep working on it.

Mom's gearing up to go back to full-time work. Last week she re-entered corporate America for half-days. She tells me she's grateful for good co-workers, for the next-size up in suits, and for the opportunity to ease back into a work routine. Tomorrow marks her full-time return to Target. I'll miss her. Dad and I hang out; it's been so fun so far. We read books in the morning, and then I sit in my big chair and watch him do stuff. Mom comes home to a big fat smile from both of us.

I hope you readers are finding joy in your preparations for the holidays. In the words of the Deacon today (no need to remove your diaper and be dunked into a baptismal font for this one): Peace.

Until next time,

Ken

Finding my get up and Go Pack Go!

Once in a while I'll crack a smile.

Mom calls it 'finding-my-get-up-and-go.' I call it a smile. It’s elicited under special circumstance: dry diaper, full tummy, and a cheerful, semi-familiar person in my midst. (What can I say? This sweet-but-serious persona has its rewards. You should hear the reaction I get when the smile actually does appear. One wouldn’t want it to happen too often.)

In other news, Dad recently acquired a pasta roller. (Happy birthday, Dad!) It’s one that attaches right to his Kitchen Aid: pretty tight if you ask me. What precipitated this purchase of new-fangled technology, you ask? Well, Dad loves to cook. Apparently, Mom once watched Dad try to roll homemade pasta by hand.
Once.
After a whole bunch of muscle, a couple-few ounces of perspiration and a smattering of four-letter words, Mom figured once was enough.

It's seven weeks to the day since my birthing debut, I’ve decided we’re having quite the time. In addition to a plethora of fresh pasta and my newly functioning facial muscles, the week brought with it 30+ trick-or-treaters, a historic Viking/Packer football game (Dad doesn’t want to talk about that one), and the celebration of Mom and Dad’s first anniversary. All in all, life in Corrigan Conrad abode brings many reasons to smile.

Hold Your Head Up and Up Diapers

A word about tummy time: It's exhausting. The doctors encourage it daily - in order to build neck strength and the I-have-to-use-my-arms-to-crawl strength. Dad's a stickler about practicing every day. While this holding your head up business is quite the process, you should see my pipes. Huge. Dad cheers the progress; Mom hums the Rocky theme song. I wonder what they'd do if I held my head high and simultaneously burst into Argent's Hold Your Head Up. Hm ... perhaps next week.

In other news, both the Conrad and the Corrigan grandparents made their appearances this week. Grandparents rule. Grandma Conrad was on a mission to get me to smile. While it didn't quite happen, Grandpa Conrad swears that I've smiled just for him. It's our little secret. G & G Corrigan stayed for a few extra days - so fun! Grandpa Corrigan introduced me to a new burping position and a few more ounces of milk per feeding. (Ahh! So much better!) And Grandma Corrigan knows just what to say to prompt a few coos and half-smile from my sweet-but-serious self. I adore them all.

Halloween approaches, and I'm proud to sport three festive outfits for the occasion; all of them fit! Speaking of fitting and sports, I think it crucial to note that the wardrobe now includes two suites of green and gold, (Go Pack!) one Kansas State outfit and one Chicago Cubs suit. Where are my Minnesota fans? At five weeks, I find myself conditioned to cheer for out-of-state sports teams. I beg you not to blame me when, at age 21, my Minnesota sports loyalty seems suspect.

Until next time,

Ken

P.S. Nothing says ladies man better than graduating from the newborn-sized diaper.

Kenneth C. Conrad: Greetings from the Infant Seat

So I went to the doctor the other day. After two weeks of bad-slim-fast-diet-like weight fluctuation, I clocked in at seven pounds, two ounces. The nurse cheered, Dad whispered congrats, and I promptly peed all over the scale. Make that 7 pounds flat.

It’s been a fortnight since leaving the hospital, and Mom and Dad are getting the hang of this parenting thing. While it doesn’t seem like Mom enjoys the mid-night feedings, she handles herself well and even remembers to brush her teeth on a regular basis. We’re currently reading Life of Pi together. As soon as my eyes work well enough to see pictures on a page, I’m sure we’ll switch to something more Dr. Seuss-ish. Maybe. She made apple bars yesterday; the scent in the kitch was enough to make me yearn for teeth.

Dad’s a pro at the baby stuff. When I can’t sleep at night (there’s something about 3:30 a.m. that just keeps me awake), he and I cuddle on the big green chair and talk of big things: the hops growing on the trellis in the back yard, dad’s latest ideas for brewing a new-flavored beer, and the difference between classical and jazz on the piano. We chill over a bottle (of milk) every morning so that Mom can get an extra wink of sleep, and the three of us plan the rest of the day around my need for eating and sleeping. It’s really not a bad way to live.

We’ve had a slew of visitors: a bunch of Corrigans, a bunch of Conrads and a handful of neighbors and friends. Mom tells me to tell you that you’re always welcome to call or stop by. Mom and Dad love the company, and when I can keep my big stormy-blues open long enough, I thoroughly enjoy the new faces.

That’s enough of this pen-to-paper-blog business. The time has come for a new diaper and a couple-few ounces of milk. Until next time –

Ken