Twinkle twinkle little star of wonder, star of night

 We celebrated Halloween in style. Sam turned one. Dad made cake. We donned a couple of pretty sweet Seuss costumes, and by house number three, it clicked. I push the bell, mumble and smile, and watch the sweet goodness of artificial flavors pile into my candy bucket. Seriously. Life gets no sweeter.
Apologies for the temporary blog hiatus. Mom's cookin' another bun, and her bedtime over the last few months has matched my own. That's right, readers: July 2012 promises baby number three. While Sam and I really have no idea what that means (nor do we comprehend the potential for a massive overhaul of our daily routines), Mom and Dad seem to know what they're doing. I'll go with it.

December's been interesting. I'll remain fairly nonchalant in reporting that my urinary victory (see previous blog post) has been short-lived.  I battled a cold in November, and some random stomach virus through the first week of December. I mean, a guy can only focus on so many bodily happenings at once. My New Year's resolution: undies by February. I'll keep you posted.
On a more positive note, I hung out with Mary Kate, Nora and Greta a few times this month. I'll keep this cousin thing, I tell you what. Those girls know how to host a play date. One afternoon, we hung out with the hair accessories, and Nora immediately equipped me with a hair tie that read HOTTIE. I sported this esteem-booster around my wrist for a solid three weeks. I'm just sayin'.

Thanksgiving and Christmas! Who knew? We hung in Omaha for Turkey Day weekend - so great to see Grandma and Grandpa Corrigan, a bunch of aunts and uncles and almost all of my 16 cousins on that side. Grandma, your food ranks supreme; I had a blast with all of your books and toys! We shopped for a Christmas tree on the coldest day in December. (Actually, after five minutes, Mom brought us back to the trusty family Buick whilst Dad finished the tree-choosing task.) I opened all the doors on our Advent calendar, smiled like a hottie for our Christmas picture, and thoroughly enjoyed Christmas weekend with Grandma and Grandpa Conrad and family. Cool toys, delicious food, fun family, and a candle-lit church service with a multilingual tune of Silent Night. From Thanksgiving to Christmas, I may have found something sweeter than Halloween.
In other, non-holiday news, Sam's singing these days. His favorite song is "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star." Lately, I've taken to starting the tune, and I let him fill in the last word of each phrase. You know, I'll sing, "Twinkle, twinkle, little," and then Sam says, "star." You get the idea. I'll admit: It's cute. He's pretty alright at keeping a tune; Mom thinks he'll be the singer in the family. I'm okay with that.

We're ringing in the new year with a group of out-of-towners - can't wait to see them all. Best jet; Sam's attempting to scale the computer desk. I've promised him the next turn at this blogging business. I'm fairly confident he'll etch his thoughts shortly after the new year; for lately, he's got a lot to say. 


Peace out, and happy new year! 
Ken

Missed the mark your territory

It happened!
This morning!
I went. I really went!
Big Boy world, here we come!

I. went. potty.
More accurately, I was sitting on the pot when I peed all over the bathroom floor.

Still, the pride emanates, and the world should know.
Move over, Target-brand diapers: I'm ready for the big leagues.

Until next time,
Ken

Spares and strikes the balance

I'm feeling a trifle blue today. It may be due to the rum-and-diet-cherry-coke that I mixed for myself circa 1:30p this afternoon. (Ok, so my hubby mixed it for me.) It might be the overwhelming mach speed that seems to suddenly occupy my workday. It might even be the few days before Aunt Flo arrives for her monthly visit. In any case, I’m finding myself slightly down in the dumps.

And so, I’ll carve out some time to write. See, I think that’s the issue. Time. I want all it all. Time with my kids. Time with my husband. Time to kick ass at work. Time with my siblings. Time with my friends. Time to wax my eyebrows, get a massage, work out. Time to call my mom. Time to make (and eat) good food. Time to feel rested. Time to write. Time to read. Time to pray. Time to think. Time to dwell in a clean house. I want time.

I don’t want more time. I just want all of my time.

Sam and Ken need Halloween costumes. Where can we find blue hair dye? Sam’s birthday is Monday. Do we have any cake mix? My anniversary is Tuesday. What’s a good gift? Bills are due Friday. Do we have enough? I’m a week behind for the newsletter that’s not on deadline, but that I’ve promised my boss. The stores we’re responsible for opening are still going to open at the end of July: ready or not. My blog. My blog. My blog. I’d like to write once per week; I’m lucky if I write once per moth. I haven’t seen the pages of a favorite book in months; I haven’t worked out for longer than 30 minutes in I don’t know how long.

This feeling short on time has a direct correlation to my self-expectations. Some might say that my expectations are too high. I expect – may even demand – a certain level of performance in all elements of my life, and so, when enough time is not dedicated to that element, I feel frustrated. Inadequate. Disappointed in myself. Have you ever experienced this?

The good news is, I’m not stressed out. My husband is my teammate, and we divide and conquer the to-do lists together. I get to see my boys every night. My Saturdays are typically my own. This fall has been arguably the best Minnesota fall in years; we play outside in jeans and sweatshirts. My blog hasn’t gone anywhere: still open for entries, and since the invention of the Kindle, I can read a few pages via my cell phone.

Still, this feeling of inadequacy and self-frustration has overstayed its welcome.

I need some ideas for repair. I’ve considered winning the lottery, retiring early, giving up sleep, or all of the above. I've become an out-of-shape, pray-when-I-stay-awake-long-enough, to-do-list driven, gotta-wear-my-next-hat-now person, and it’s time for something to change.

What ideas, tips, experiences can you share that can help me strike the balance that I’m looking for?

Love, Molly

The terrible two of a kind

What happened to September? Here we are - living our life - and suddenly it's six weeks later. Oy. I'd say we've been busy, but that's a dumb excuse for not blogging. The good news is the whole fam damily seems to have shimmied into the rhythm of fall: Dad started night school twice per week, Sam and I grace the city of Bloomington for a couple of hours every Monday night, and Mom's keeping pace with the corporate world.

What's in Bloomington? So glad you asked! It's some kind of parent-kid thing. I hang out with a bunch of two and three year old cherubs; Sam camps in the day care. Mom chills with us for a bit and then she flocks with the other parents to chat about things like routines, tantrums and potty training. Lord knows why she needs help with her tantrums and potty abilities, but who am I to rock that boat? This Monday night school thing is pretty sweet. Dad gets a kid-free night to finish homework, Mom's meeting other parents, and I get to relax with new toys, fun people, and a whole room full of gym mats, slides and dodge balls  ... need I say more?

I had a birthday somewhere in there. Yep - rockin' into the twos, and Dad says that they're far from terrible. We celebrated in style: A picnic lunch at a park with cousins Greta, Nora, Mary Kate and Aunt Bridget. I'm telling you: slides, swings, cool plastic ladder things to climb, angel food cake cupcakes ... I even scored a few new friends out of the deal. Not a a bad way to ring in the start of my third year 'round here. Speaking of birthdays, Sam's set to cross the one-year mark on Halloween. Has that gone fast or what? He's crawling everywhere, cruising along furniture when convenient for him, popping a few teeth, and drooling like a St. Bernard. The good news is, the two of us get along famously these days.

Mom declares that my quarter got stuck. Whatever that means. I finally figured out how to string a few words together, and conversations abound! I talk to the puppies, the neighborhood kids, the walkers, the joggers, the regulars at the park, and my favorite friend, Curious George. Words have never flowed so smoothly; my vocabulary expands exponentially by the day. Favorite phrases include "go down the sccchhhlide," "ride the 'wing," "no, Sam," "Mom ahh work," "Dad ahh cool," "preaze," "no kaynk you," "not yet," and "chill out, dog," and "night-night Curious George." For Christmas, I think I'll request a thesaurus.

In other events, we had a blast at the State Fair with Uncle Mike and Aunt Tammy. We schlepped to Omaha to visit the Corrigan aunts, uncles and cousins, and Grandma and Grandpa Corrigan swung into the Richfield estates for a visit. It's been a pretty sweet six weeks, and these warm fall days whisper the promise of continued good times.
Anticipating a speedy return ... Ken

Potty training for a 5k

 I have yet to actually go. I sit. I wait. I smile. Then, I wash my hands.  Really, though, one must consider the vast amount of steps needed to actually perform the bathroom duty. There's the stool. The diaper. The sitting. The waiting. The flusher. The sink, the soap, the towel. I think this potty training thing could be cool, but there is much to remember. Last week, I really thought I had it. The stool was there for the stepping; the toilet lid sat up for the sitting. I simply forgot about the bare-bottomed part. Fully clothed and sitting in the toilet. I have to say, it wasn't my proudest moment. Thankfully, Dad spared maximum embarrassment and did not snap a picture. I owe you one, Dad.

While the bathroom is now on my list of regularly-visited household enclaves, I'm doing my best to keep my kid brother at bay. He wants nothing more than to unwind the toilet paper and splash in water unmentionable. Sigh. Can't a brother take care of business in peace? We keep the door closed. 

In other news, Grandma and Grandpa Conrad visited! In true form, we combined good ol' fashioned housework and relaxing with some good ol' fashioneds. The windows have never been so clean (inside and out!), the basement chairs look fantastic, and Mom's thrilled at the opportunity to sip an adult beverage in the summertime. Thanks for visiting, G&G!

We replaced the couch in our basement. Bright red, over-stuffed, and available for a ten-spot at the local garage sale, the thing looks as though Elmo missed the toilet. Really. The good news is that we're now able to watch Curious George without risk of chronic back pain. It's a basement couch. If I were concerned about being fashionably up-to-date, I'd write to you about the fact that it matches our six mini target dogs, our velvet fedora (decoration only), and the weird red mural curtains that we meant to 86 within the first month of home ownership. (Yes, the east wall is a mural. Came with the house. Saving that for a future blog post.)

Best part of summer: Right now. School hasn't quite started; leaves haven't quite turned. The days are hot; nights are cool. Bliss. 

Hope this post finds you in equally jovial spirits.

Ken

Hit the ground running against the wind

wondering these days whether mom can turn this blogging thing into an honest to goodness hobby.

hob·by

¹    [hob-ee]

noun, plural -bies.

1.

an activity or interest pursued for pleasure or relaxation and not as a main occupation.

possible to turn a sort-of monthly newsletter-like entry into a platform of relaxation? potentially. speaking from the chronological back seat, i think mom's created a bit of a following, and - according to dad - followers may like to follow more regularly than every four (or eight or twelve) weeks. so, a big shout out goes to the facebook junkies, blog taggers, fellow writers, and avid digital consumers: thanks for reading and commenting on mom's blog. she's officially declared a blog hobby. might this change the tone, voice and frequency of entries? i give it a solid maybe. buckle. up.

sweet summertime weather finally arrived in minnesota - somewhere around the 6th of july - and with it a flurry of gusty thunderstorms, sticky heat  expectant travels, and cheerful family visitors. we pinched our pennies and purchased a pass to the minnesota zoo. (family plus one. amanda: thanks for being our first official plus one! all: call dad when you're inclined to join us. you can't beat it. see bear: left.)

the third week in july found us splitting the week between family reunions: a few days in wisconsin with the conrad side, and wrapping up the week in northern minnesota with the corrigan side. the reunions are an annual occurrence, and mom tells me the cram-everyone-in-a-cabin-and-spend-as-much-time-as-possible-on-the-lake really never gets old. i tried the water for the first time: a real pool, a real lake, and a real life jacket. love the water. hate the boat coat.

while each family reunion registered as highlights in my book, i must say that cousin mary took the cake with her all-cousin dinner and musical chairs event. great idea, mar! it's true: eleven of the soon-to-be sixteen spawn of mom's brothers and sisters  marched (the ants go marching la la la) to the main lodge for pizza and a rousing (mildly competitive) game of musical chairs. having no ability to march, (yet with one helluva crawl), i merely watched the event. We wrapped it up with a picture of the available eleven. fun times.

up next: the minnesota state fair. i love summer.

peace out,
sam

Fountain of youth gone wild

I seem to have acquired a roommate. He snores when he sleeps; sings when he's awake, and occupies the majority of what used to be quiet space within the bedroom. I'm not gonna lie: Sam's loud. All the time. The good news is, I'm learning to talk right back, and I must say, I'm starting to hold my own in the vocabulary department. Concepts that once made sense only inside my head, now roll off the tip of the tongue with relative ease. Apple (App-oh). Egg (Kay). Milk (Muck). Truck (Cuck). More (Mow-ah). Store (Stow-ah). Kitty (Kitty). Dog (Kitty). Squirrel (Kitty). We're all handling the incessent babble fairly well; bursts of interpretation frustration happen if hungry or tired. (Ambiguous antecedent: intended.)

With a roommate comes a graduation from our respective sleeping arrangements. In true frugal form (Can you believe he's a democrat?), Dad found a bunk bed on Craig's list. Sam's pack and play is officially folded and stored for travel use only. He's got my crib, and I get to stretch into a full-sized-big-boy bottom bunk, with gaudy turquoise sheets and two (count 'em - two) pillows. Naps and bedtime have never been so fun.

Changes are happening on all planes of our house these days. Not only has the basement bathroom been re-tiled, re-painted and equipped with a fully functional shower (Yep, Dad's a handiman.), we've jettisoned the huge busted up concrete slab from the backyard. While this temporarily broke the heart of my basketball-player-in-her-dreams mother, she did come to mutual agreement with Dad that a grass-filled backyard will help the long-term character and sustainability of the property. Due to Dad's semi-perfectionist behaviors (when it comes to landscaping, that is), the sprinkler is timed, rotated, and coaxing the baby grass along swimmingly.

Swimming! It's like an outdoor bath with clothes! Where has this been all of my life? Thanks to the See-Spot-Save special at Target, we're proud owners of an air-filled, dolphin-spits-water kiddie pool. Glory! The dolphin spew provides the occasional refreshing beverage, and the next-door neighbor boys provide the necessary toys to make outdoor swimming my new favorite summertime activity.

In other news, I'm learning to share. It's just so ... hard. My trucks, my cars, my lawn mower: all so important to me, and Sam just ... gets in the way. He wants to spin the wheels of my fire trucks, crawl into the path of my lawn mowing, raise taxes on the richest 1% of Minnesotans. Oh wait - that's somebody else. Nonetheless, playtime is not allowed to shutdown for nine days running. While it's important to stand for what we believe, the theory and practice of play must align in order for me and Sam to don our pursuit of happiness. C'mon Minnesota governement. If we can figure it out, so can you.

Until next time,

Ken

Living on a prayer to the faithfully departed

Spring 2011 brought with it a myriad of life events. Instead of crafting an almost-two-year-old perspective on the happenings of the last few months, I breathe a big breath and give you my own voice. For you readers looking for narration consistency: Ken's innocence or for Sam's lack of capital letters, breathe easy. One or both boys will soon return to share his story. For now, I can't help but feed the need to blurt my own perspective across the blogosphere.
Lately, I find myself existing within a contradiction of hope and heartache. This is not necessarily bad, for some of the most interesting lessons in life co-exist in contradiction to each other: the stillness of summer within a thunderstorm; an entry-level job posting seeking two years experience; managing a career while starting a family; three persons in one God – just to name a few. And when I take a moment to consider the array of feelings that make up our human experience, the events of this spring find me skipping along to vastly different emotions.
I stood next to my husband at Easter as he proclaimed his full admission into the Catholic faith. I daresay that he’s proud of himself, and I’m honored every day to be the wife of someone so full of gentleness, compassion, and humble courage.
I sat across from my sister and listened as she talked about her changing marriage and her three beautiful daughters. I admire her strength, and I hope to someday emulate her talent as a teacher and mother.
I watched a niece and nephew cross her and his respective stage to receive diplomas: both simultaneously greeting an ending and a beginning of an educational milestone. Grandmas and grandpas scooped up my children in big bear hugs: a mosaic of youth and innocence wrapped in the arms of wisdom and experience.

I stood next to my baby sister as she married my newest brother-in-law: each of them managing the heartache of a tight job market, yet so happy and hopeful for their future together.
I sat next to my brothers at the unexpected funeral of my cousin, Erin. I witnessed a mother moan at the side of her daughter’s closed casket. A grown man, her father, sobbed into my arms and told me to hold on to my children with all that I have. I watched helplessly as tears dripped down my grandmother’s face, across the bridge of her nose: heartbroken at the grief of her daughter and the loss of her granddaughter.
This dwelling within the coexistence of hope and heartache is cause for wonder: How does one strike the balance between the two? As life goes on, I’m beginning to believe that this contradiction of hope and heartache may not ever be without one another. That is, in everything worth experiencing in life – school, family, career path, romance, friendship, parenting – one will always encounter degrees of hope and heartache: of have and have-not, of joy and sorrow, of restlessness and peace. We are to do it anyway. We are to look for hope within our heartache and to acknowledge heartache within our hope.
We pulled into the church parking lot of Erin’s funeral Mass; the church was attached to the grade school that she attended. I looked up as the church bells rang, and every single student lined the parking lot – greeting, praying, smiling, and crying. In this time of heartache, hope sprung from the teachers and students standing in solidarity around us.
Yesterday, my boys met me at the door as I returned from work. Ken greeted me with a toothy grin and a “Hi, Mama.” In that moment, my heart melted with hope in the happy-go-lucky boy that he is. Interestingly enough, my heart simultaneously ached with the knowledge that one day I’ll have to let him go, in order for him to be the man that he is becoming. (Not to worry. We quickly moved on to more tangible events of the evening: like sloppy joes and story time.)
As spring turns into summer, may this reflection find you in good spirits and embracing your own life’s contradictions with a peaceful heart. Love, Molly

Somewhere over the rainbow of fruit flavors

three months? three months? has it really been that long since we've heard from conrad the elder? hm. well, he's been busy. ever since he learned to walk, he's been perfecting the art of mobility: walking backward, climbing furniture, scooting up and down the steps. i expect this won't be the last time i'll have to step it up due to his lackadaisical tendencies.

hi. i'm sam. affectionately known around these parts as conrad the younger, i'm learning to forge my way around this fruitsnack-eatin', powdered-milk-drinkin' world. the last few months have been nothing short of fascinating. december into january was dark. and cold. i'm not gonna lie: we cowered from the living nativity scene opportunity (see previous blog entry) due to the frigidness. i heard it was quite the event, though. maybe next year. february brought with it record snowfalls:

a rockin' 12 inches on the weekend of my baptism. although members of our out-of-town extended family couldn't make the baptism due to the weather, i'm so glad to have seen my kansas rels and to have sported new-found holiness in my rippin' tight white onesie. (Yes, the baptismal outfit was tucked safely in grandma corrigan's suitcase ... which never made it out of omaha due to the flaky white stuff.)

speaking of grandma corrigan, ken and i hung our hats at her place during the first week of march, while mom and dad gallivanted around kua'i, hawaii. yeah - you think mom and dad got the better end of that deal, but i'm here to tell you that grandma corrigan's house is the bomb. i met all 13 of my other cousins – ages 5 and under. So while mom and dad explored hawaiian pineapples, hiking trails and rainbows (see dad’s facebook page for cool pics), we ate fruit snacks, drank juice and pretty much romped in kid haven. grandma: we hope to see you again soon!

spring’s just around the corner. i’m so pumped. dad has grand plans to plant trees, finish tiling our basement bathroom, build a fence and extend the driveway. we'll see what the budget master (that's mom) has to say about all of that. aunt val and uncle paul are here this weekend – it’s almost like we’re celebrating spring early; they’re so fun.

best get back to the party. until next time, good thoughts to japan and lybia, and compassion and peace to all of your families.

keepin' it real,

sam