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