Philly photo phun, here I come!

Well, internets, it is adios from me for a few days. Headed out of town for a spontaneous little weekend in Philly. I get to see her and her, and FINALLY meet her and her. I am giddy with excitement.[ I am also practically paralyzed with fear as I have 11 photo shoots lined up for the weekend.]

Nothing like a little pressure, eh?

But I am looking forward to the trip. Especially the part where I sit on a plane all by myself and read a book for several hours. Bliss.

But before I go, I wanted to leave you with some of my favorite shots of the Great Family B. One of my favorite families anyway, but I am even more in love with them after getting to see them through the lens of my camera. They are some beautiful people, no? And nice? When you look up nice in in the dictionary - you would see this whole family there. Not an exaggeration either. Ask anyone who knows them.

This pic just might be my favorite of the whole batch - love the moment between a daddy and his sweet girl. Love the colors. It was a somewhat accidental picture - we had wrapped up the shoot and were getting ready to leave the park when I turned and saw this. And how, HOW, could I let one like this get away?

Wish every shot was this easy to take.

Have a good weekend, peeps. Don't have too much fun without me!

The sun'll come out tomorrow...

During the month of October, I think the sun forgot about us good people of Missouri. It rained and rained. And then when it was done raining, it rained some more. At one point, I turned to the Husband and asked him if he had moved us back to the East Coast without telling me.

The rain? It was bad. And I honestly don't think I could have taken much more of it.

So last week when the sun finally poked her lovely yellow face out, and we got temperatures in the glorious high-70s for days at a time, I remembered why I like it here. And one quiet morning, as I walked through my house, it seemed to me as though the sun was spilling in through each and every window - coming in on all sides of the house. The laws of physics make this an impossible task, I know, but photographic proof tells otherwise.

Because sunshine? Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy.

[And sunshine on my dirty floors even makes me happy.]

Sigh. Too bad the sun is elsewhere today. What I wouldn't give to sit in my living room, the sun warming my toes through the window, while I plow my way through a good novel.

Tell me, dear readers, is it sunny there today? And if so, got room on your couch for one more?

My Alibi

We interrupt the smorgasbord of photos this week to bring you up to speed on a crime that has occurred in the Casa de Stie.

You see, there was one last slice of red velvet cake (delicious recipe courtesy of the Pioneer Woman Cookbook) left sitting on my kitchen counter.

I was not tempted to eat it because I was swamped this morning.

I was out. Yeah, that's it.

It's been so busy around here - what with me running five half-marathons to raise money for the American Cafeteria Worker's Association.

As you can see, someone snuck into our house and nibbled a corner off the top, right by the delicious chocolate bits.

I didn't see a thing. I was teaching a seminar at Harvard on the importance of flossing.

And then, just when we thought they were done, it happened again.

While I was out last night helping to deliver my friend Maren's new (and very unexpected) baby, suddenly, and without warning, the criminal came back to even out the missing bite in a vain attempt to hide their crime.

FOR SHAME.

Taking an even bolder step, our shameless perpetrator returns ONCE AGAIN to the scene of the crime and steals a little bit more, not bothering at all this time to disguise the thievery. If only I could provide you a description so a sketch could be made and a nationwide search undertaken.

But I was busy giving singing lessons to Zach Effron. He really needed someone with vocal talents like mine to help his weak and untrained voice take song.

Alas! Today when I got home from building the new children's hospital all by myself, I noticed that the remaining lovely chocolate bits were gone. The delicious cream cheese frosting-covered cake is but a remnant of her former red velvety self. WHAT TO DO? Will this madness ever stop?

Ladies and gentlemen, I fear for the safety of food in my kitchen. For as I was working on a cure for cancer in Tanzania, we were robbed again. Who is this horrible person? Plowing through our lives and leaving a ragged wake of gluttony behind?

WILL WE EVER FEEL SAFE AGAIN?

I am afraid there is no hope left at this point. All is lost. What would have been a delicious after-dinner treat is now nothing but a lone bite on a platter. But who, WHO would do such a thing? I only wish I'd been here to see something. But I was at the local animal shelter, helping to pioneer a new surgery for dogs that will allow them to learn how to read. It's going to be quite groundbreaking, you know.

BUT THE CAKE? WHO KEEPS EATING THE CAKE?

Oh dear. It's all over now. If only I hadn't decided to donate my kidney this morning to Severus Snape. And if only I hadn't been asked at the last minute to perform BOTH operations while juggling for the Ringling Brothers circus, I might have been here to stop the devilish mastermind from stealing the last bite.

WOE IS ME.

Wait. What's that, you say? I have something red in my teeth?

Oh, well, it's probably just that, uh, um...apple I ate earlier. Yeah, that's it. An apple. It was delicious, too. I got it from the President in recognition for my great work with the new program I developed to help homeless veterans become zoo workers across America.

I love my charity work. It's so rewarding. Helps comfort me in these difficult times.

[Note to self: They're on to you. Best be baking up another one to throw them off the case.]

Photo Shoot Week - day three

Thrown in the midst of all these family shoots recently was a very fun senior portrait session. Meet Dani. Five-foot-ten, long legs, flawless skin, and hair like you see in the movies.

I mean, hello? Does she even know how high school was for girls like me? With my bad perms, baby-blue eyeshadow, and pegged jeans?

Luckily for her, she does not.

And after getting to know her a little better on the shoot, I've come to see that she absolutely deserves to be this beautiful because she is just. so. nice.

Thanks, Dani. Here's hoping that before I turn 40, I can look half as good as you look at 17.

(Not bloody likely, I'm afraid)

Photo Shoot Week - day two

Meet family S. While I love and adore their whole family, their sweet little girl has a special place in my heart. She's one of my little nursery friends, and she reminds me so much of Hannah when she was that age. It's like getting a second chance to play with your little one all over again. LOVE her. Love them.

We had the misfortune to time this shoot on one of the 28 stinking days of rain we had in the month of October. Needing to press forward and get it done anyway, we hid out under trees and awnings, and managed to get a few shots in spite of that.

I painted the sky blue in this particular shot because I was so annoyed with the rain. I'm pretty sure you wouldn't have known that if I hadn't just told you. What say you, internets? Do you like the fake blue sky?

If only I could do that every day.

Are they not so darling together? I love shooting couples. It makes me so happy.

They really are a gorgeous family, no? And here I thought Michelle knew all the pretty people. I think these lovely Missourians are giving her peeps a run for their money.

Thanks, guys. LOVED this shoot (but hated the rain). Your family is so beautiful, so happy. That just rubbed off on me and brightened my whole day.

Photo Shoot Week

Hello, Monday. Is it you already?

There are lots of things I could share with you today. But I really don't feel like talking about Halloween and all the candy I've eaten over the last four days (neither do my thighs). I mean, seriously, there are candy bars in the store year-round. Why must I eat my weight in them every year between October 28th and November 1st? WHY?

I also don't want to remind myself of the 1.6 billion leaves currently blanketing my backyard. I am trying very hard to ignore them. I'm putting my fingers in my ears and singing LA LA LA LA whenever I walk by, hoping the leaves will magically disappear. Yes, have you met me? I live in Denial. It's lovely here.

And I am most certainly not going to talk about my new favorite obsession: The Pioneer Woman Cookbook. I've only had it a few days and I have already made several things from it which were richly laden with butter and sugar. Again, the thighs are begging for my silence. (But they will permit me to tell you that you really ought to buy the book. It's absolutely fantastic.)

One thing I do want to talk about is the plethora of photo shoots I have had the last few weeks. I have so many fun pictures to share with you. So many, in fact, that I am dubbing this week "Photo Shoot with Stie Week" and am going to show you nothing but the beautiful people I've been hanging around with.

Sadly, I don't get any cuter by association. It's not true what they say - beauty won't rub off on others. Crap.

Anyway, here is family K. One of my all-time favorite families EVER. Not only is this lady an entrepreneur, but she's classy, beautiful, and is a lot of fun on a road trip.

Plus, her husband? The master of all things You Tube. If it's funny and on the web, this guy can find it for you.

Here is the beautiful Bec and her daughter Chantalle (though I call her Chantanna Montana because of her super star-like posing abilities. She kind of liked that.)

Balancing out the girls in this family are these handsome devils.

Thanks, guys for letting me shoot your gorgeous family. It was so much fun.

The Funeral

I huddled under the large umbrella, wishing for a lull in the endless, gray rain. Goosebumps covered my bare arms, and I found my thoughts drifting to the jacket that I knew I should have brought along. Hannah's tiny hand clasps mine, and the Husband shifts his weight from one leg to another restlessly. I watch as dirt is shoveled solemnly onto the tiny coffin. Nearby, the forlorn sound of Taps signals that the time has come for us to do what we came here to do. I reach my arms out and hold him as he cries. With each wracking sob, my heart aches for my little boy and this loss. I hate for any of my children to face mortality.

Yes. Even the mortality of pet hermit crabs.

As I stood barefoot in the rain yesterday at the funeral of Chase's hermit crab, I grumbled at the absurdity of it all. I winced as McKay played Taps on the trumpet, hitting a particularly painful high note, one that pierced my eardrums to the core. I fought the urge to snap hatefully as Hannah hung on me and whined for dinner. I glanced around shamefully, hoping none of the neighbors were watching.

And then it occurred to me: Is this really my life?

I flashed back to my 15-year-old self and remembered wistfully some of the dreams I had for myself. I wanted to travel ALL. THE. TIME. I was going to be thin and rich. I would never have bad hair and would certainly not be scrubbing my own toilets. I may or may not have thought I was going to marry Johnny Depp.

No one ever told me about these kinds of days.

The days where you feel pulled like a rubber band - stretched in so many directions that you fear the sheer pressure of it all will cause something in you to snap. Wondering just how many more seconds you can take before you lose it and scream at them all.

But then, almost all at once, it changes.

It softens somehow, my heart.

I look at the tear-stained face of my sweet son, see that his heart is breaking, and I know that I would move heaven and earth to ease his pain for just a moment. I look over and smile at the thoughtfulness of my oldest child, paying respects in the only way he knows how. Not because he loved or cared for the stupid little crab himself, but because he knows it was important to his brother.

My eyes suddenly fill with tears at the realization of just how strong the bond between them is. That for all my failings as a mother, I know that these boys love each other fiercely, and maybe, just maybe, a small part of that is because of me.

I bend down and scoop up that hungry, scrawny, seven-year-old girl, getting an eyeful of her jack o-lantern teeth on the way, and remember what it was like to be her age. I briefly wonder if I drove my own mother crazy with my nonstop chatter, and feel pretty sure that I whined and complained while having to wait for dinner myself.

And all at once, I realize something wonderful. At age seven, waiting for dinner is pretty much her biggest problem in life. I silently pray in gratitude at the sheer providence in my life because of that.

Then my eyes meet the Husband's on the way inside the house, and we share a smile of understanding, of solidarity for these little creatures that have become our life. And I think, surely, he knows just how desperately I still love him after 15 years together. I vow that I will show and tell him more often, just in case he has forgotten it.

Maybe this wasn't the life I pictured as a love-sick teenager, mooning and dreaming over what would be. But do you know what?

It's so much freaking better.

The one in which I post gratuitous grandparent photos

The last several months, I have unintentionally turned this blog into a showcase of sorts for photo shoots involving a lot of beautiful people. I have taken great pleasure in sharing these photos with you, but have neglected posting any of the shots I take for myself. The ones of my own babies, who I love best of all.

I figured it was high time I did so.

Feel free to skip these if you are:

a) not related to me
b) not the least bit interested in ANY photos, words, or drivel I ever put up here
c) clicking off as we speak to search for free p0rn
d) drank too much diet coke and are running for the bathroom, legs crossed, doing the potty dance

Wait, sorry. That last one was me. I'm back now. (Phew, that was a close one!)

And all four of you who are left (hi, grandparents!) can enjoy these gorgeous photos of my gorgeous children, who seem to be growing up entirely too fast. I will try to stop humming "Sunrise, Sunset" while you scroll down.

But I'm not making any promises.

Happy Wednesday.

"Is this the little girl I carried? Is this the little boy at play? I don't remember growing older. When did they? When did she get to be a beauty? When did he grow to be so tall..."

Sorry. Stopping now.

Sniff.

I am three days sober. Pass me a celebratory donut, will you?

Hi. My name is Christie, and I am a food-a-holic.

Hi, Christie.

(That was your line, by the way)

I have spent the better part of the last six months indulging my inner she-devil. You know the one. The one that convinces you it will be okay to make just one more batch of cookies. Or brownies. Or an 8,000-calorie coconut cake, for that matter.

I have also given her full reign over the restaurant menus and ordered things that were decidedly not green. Things that were chock-full of delicious carbs and fat. Things that were served with a side order of french fries. Buried under a mound of cheese. Topped with a half-gallon of sauce. Smothered in sugar and ice cream. Deep fried and wrapped in a chocolate burrito.

You get the point.

She has been my long-time companion, sitting idly on my shoulder, shouting out her temptations. And, true to form, that devilish fiend was nowhere to be found one morning when I questioned her judgement after not being able to button up my favorite jeans. She's such a fair weather companion, that one. Always ready to help me pile on the pounds; not around to take any of the blame.

So, I boldly stared at my chubby face in the mirror, and said ENOUGH.

And that was three days ago.

With three days under my belt, I can now remember that it feels good to eat well. I find myself much more able to crawl out of bed in the morning to face life (and the scale) when I'm eating healthy. I have more energy. I feel prettier. And let's face it: I'm a nicer wife and mom.

I know that I am a food addict. I crave the bad food. I dream about it. I experience a rush of pleasure every time I indulge myself in it. And, sadly, when the rush ends and all that remains is a belly ache, I feel the guilt. I feel sick. I hate myself. I have battled this demon most of my life and know how the cycle plays itself out. And still, knowing that never seems to make it any easier. It's just hard.

When your penchant runs to food, you can't eliminate the addiction from your life. You have to manage it, reason with it, and keep it in bounds. It's hard to abstain when you have to eat a little of your drug of choice every day to survive. When you have to prepare it for others.

So I'm taking it one day at a time (and sometimes, one hour at a time). I'm determined to do this. I'm going to get this beast back in her cage before the real demon rears its ugly head: HALLOWEEN CANDY BARS.

Lord give me strength.

Helping you poor, sad souls

I am a weird person.

I know, right? You had absolutely NO IDEA.

Shut up.

I think the quirk that is most annoying to the Husband is my unflinching, urgent need to have our family Christmas card done before Halloween.

Yes. You read that right.

I seriously start to panic and will sit bolt-upright in bed in a cold sweat if it's not done and in my hot little hands. I am not sure why, but it is something I have accepted and made peace with after years of struggling in vain to wait.

The Husband is now trying to work through the issue in therapy, however.

But since it is, after all, ALMOST HALLOWEEN, I thought I would offer my services to the rest of you (as my own cards have been done since before Labor Day). I have been designing some Christmas cards and am now offering them as part of my photography packages (click over for the full line). I've been very busy doing family fall portraits and figured this was the perfect compliment to that.

Here, for your viewing pleasure, are a few samples that I have put together:
(Yes, this is what I do with my free time. Judge not. My kids have been home sick for two weeks.)

If you're interested in working with any of these designs or have ideas of your own, email me at stiesthoughts at gmail dot com and I will be more than happy to help you out.

Because, really, if you don't at least have the picture for your card yet? You had better get crackin. Halloween is in, like, two weeks, people!

[Insert the sound of me breathing in and out slowly into a paper bag for you here]

He gets a bad rap, but underneath is a real peach

Those of you who have been reading this blog for a while are familiar with my brother, Dan. Some of you have probably laughed at the comments he leaves. Some of you have no doubt left feeling slightly offended. And a handful of you have even emailed out of concern for me and the less-than-friendly comments left by this person named Dan.

I can assure you that it is his love language. And mine to him.

We have had the privilege this week of having Dan and his cute family visit. They have braved our germ-infested walls and dared to spend time with us in spite of the swine flu. I am fervently praying that they do not come down with it themselves in a few days, however. [Although, given the fact that his daughter was a conjoined twin of my daughter until the fevers began, it will be a miracle if they escape unscathed. Oy.]

Anyway, since Dan has been so disgusted by the many appearances made by my feet on this blog, I thought it only fitting that he be the one to draw the winner of the Traveling Shoes. We put all the names in a pretty little bowl, seen here:

Then Dan was forced to cheerfully picked the next recipient of the gorgeous pink shoes:

And the winner is Thelma! Email me your address at stiesthoughts at gmail dot com and the shoes are on their way to your house. I cannot wait to see where you take them.

For those that didn't win, I offer you instead some pictures of Dan's cute family. Because coming to my house and escaping without a photo shoot is more miraculous than escaping without the swine flu.

Both of which are probably a little painful.

Dang, I sure like these guys.

A bright spot on a gloomy Monday

Hello, Monday. How I wish you were still Saturday or Sunday. Or really any day in June or July.

As I sit here typing this, there is a feverish little girl on my lap who has come down with the swine flu.

yay

That last sentence did not deserve a capital letter, proper sizing, or punctuation, such is the annoyance I feel for it in my heart.

But instead of dwelling on the millions of invisible germs that I imagine are marching up my arms as we speak, I will share with you some shots from a very fun photoshoot I had a few months ago.

As I've mentioned before, I never had sisters. I grew up with four brothers and lamented my single-girl status until I went to college and lived with five other girls. Then suddenly, I was a little bit glad that I never had sisters. All the bickering, cycle-time-synchronizing, clothes stealing, and drama - you have none of that with boys.

But while shooting these gorgeous girls, I caught a glimpse of some of the good things with having sisters. Like sisters? They're the only people in the world who can tell you that you don't look good while making a certain face. They will critique your make up or clothes and give you honest feedback. The dreaded, "Do I look fat in this?" will be answered with brutal truth by a sister.

And when you look this gorgeous and your sister tells you so, you can believe it, baby.

Where do these beautiful girls get it, you ask? From their mama (who looks young and hot enough to be the fifth sister). My secret goal in life has been to fatten her up, but it hasn't happened yet, dammit. Curse her willpower of iron! Maybe I should actually just strive to live like she does: Less cookie dough and more exercise.

And let's not forget one with the Daddy, too. He's a pretty important one in this house, I'd wager.

Thanks, guys. You are so amazing and it was very fun to spend some time in your sista world for a bit. Do you think if I adopted myself in that I'd automatically be gorgeous and thin like you are?

Yeah. Didn't think so.

BEST. CAKE. EVER.

Tap. Tap. Is this thing on? Anybody out there?

Well, I am back from my unplanned and very annoying hiatus. You will be happy to know that Mack is back in school and fully recovered. (Although I did hear today that one of the schools in our district has 18 percent of the student body out due to the swine flu. Makes me wonder how all the rest of us escaped unscathed?)

ANYhoo, I have decided to share with you one of my absolute favorite treats. I helped throw a baby shower this week and thought it was the perfect opportunity to get my cake on.

The sweetness of the cake, however, was momentarily ruined when the husband glanced at the recipe on the counter and commented out loud on the number of calories in the cake.

I know, right?

That was quickly remedied by me:

I found this recipe about a year ago, and it actually belongs to the fabulous Paula Deen, but I borrowed it, tweaked it a little bit, and can safely assume it is the reason I cannot button my jeans today.

First you need three cake pans. I use the classy, no-washing-needed version seen here. Generously grease and flour these babies and set them aside.

Then you take 1 cup butter, which is supposed to be at room temperature - a step I somehow always forget to do ahead of time. The microwave does a great job, and if you accidentally forget to pull the butter out in time, it works just fine if it's a little melted, too.

Cream the melted room temperature butter and 2 cups of sugar for six to eight minutes. Then add four eggs, one a time, beating well after each addition.

There is a little person in our house that has a sixth sense for when the kitchen aid is on. She is like one of Pavlov's little dogs - she hears that humming and she comes a running. Once in a while I'm nice and let her crack the eggs.

Add one teaspoon of vanilla and mix just until combined. Then you're going to take one cup of coconut milk:

And 3 cups flour. Add them alternately to the creamed mixture, beginning and ending with the flour.

Lots of times when I'm baking, things look like this, which is always hard for my OCD brain to ignore:

When you're done, the batter will be very, very thick. Almost cookie dough like. But don't worry, you've definitely done it right if it looks like this. If it's thin and cake-batter like? I don't know how to help you. You might want to consider professional help and get your baked goods on the outside.

Next, pour the batter into your three greased pans (ignoring, of course, the disgusting Crunch Berries cereal on the counter. In my defense, it was only a little after seven a.m. when I made this and breakfast was not fully put away yet. See the clock on the wall for proof.)

Once the batter is spread around each pan, lift them up off the counter and slam them back down to pop any air bubbles. Yes, people, this is going to be a dense cake. Lovely, dense, and incredibly moist.

Slam the cake pans, at least four or five times each, until all the air bubbles are released. Bake at 350 for 30 minutes or until done.

Cool five minutes or so in the pan, and dump the cakes onto a cooling rack to cool while you prepare the frosting. When I'm not feeling lazy, I like to use the Wilton buttercream frosting recipe. But I have to confess, I have just made this with frosting in a can, and it by no means impacts the deliciousness.

Next, spread some frosting over your first layer like this:

Top that layer with the middle child, I mean, middle layer, and slather that bad boy with some frosting of his own.

Repeat again for the third layer. Do not be alarmed by the imperfect appearance or unevenness of the layers. All will be made right by the coconut. You must trust the little Stie. Has she ever steered you wrong before?

When you have finished frosting all layers and the edges, it will look like this:

Sprinkle coconut over the top, covering any and all mistakes.

Pat coconut up the sides of the cake next, and be prepared for a coconut explosion in your kitchen. That stuff gets EVERYWHERE during this phase of the process. It would be annoying if the end result weren't so darn delicious.

Pipe a little frosting around the bottom of the cake and voila! An absolutely gorgeous specimen, if I do say so myself.

So pretty that I think we need a close-up. Why hello there, lover. What's that? You want Christie to eat a big, thick slice of you? All right. If you insist.

For the baby shower, I also made some of these. Chase came in and asked me why I was making diaper cookies. What say you, internets? Diapers or onesies? I'm sticking with onesies.

The buffet of gluttony, just waiting to be devoured:

And the gorgeous mom-to-be in a pre-shower photo shoot by yours truly:

It's almost wrong how cute she is pregnant, isn't it? I can't wait until the baby is born so I can get myself some newborn lovin'. Yum.

That's what I've been up to this week. Stay tuned for the long-awaited Traveling Shoes winner, a little visit from my brother Dan, and gorgeous photos of gorgeous people.

I think it's shaping up to be a good week after all.

Scratch that...

Turns out I was wrong about the cookie dough thing yesterday.

I feel it is now safe to assume that the third member of our disaster trio would be my OLDEST SON HAVING THE SWINE FLU.

If you need me, I'll be balled up in the fetal position, sucking my thumb, and rocking back and forth. Back and forth. Back and for.....ttt....hhh.

Too mad and tired to come up with a clever title

They say bad things come in threes.

I'd say my father-in-law suffering a massive heart attack earlier this week would be the first one. (He's going to be okay, but it gave us all a huge scare).

I think that me backing out of a parking space and crashing into some poor woman's car this morning would be number two.

And now I'm hoping that the massive tummy ache I feel from drowning my sorrows in a bowl of cookie dough is the third.

I honestly don't think I can take much more this week.

Stupid life. Sometimes you really tick me off.

The joy of parenting

Today I got stuck had the privilege of accompanying little miss Hannah on her non-learning party away from school class field trip to the Arch. It was, as all field trips are, sheer torture delightful.

If I were to choose how I would ideally spend my free time, I would never almost always choose spending time with other people's annoying children Hannah and her school friends.

First, I get to sit around doing nothing practice the art of patience while I wait for the children to board the buses. Then I spend a painful thought-provoking hour in traffic, thanks to our annoying state a freeway construction project, and wait again at the Arch for the buses to arrive.

Once all the loud and hyper happy and energetic children emerge from the bus, we maniacally shepherd sweetly lead them to the Arch museum for a tour. It is always a bore treat to listen while park rangers explain the intricacies of the buffalo digestion system. Most gag-inducing humorous moment was when an actual buffalo chip was passed around for the germ magnets children to fondle with their bare hands.

Some of the sickos darlings even raised the large chunk of poo specimen to their noses for a sniff.

And the talking statues are creepy not at all creepy. In fact, I would call them zombie-like life-like and interesting. An added fright bonus was the homeless man that had wandered in and was trying to possibly kidnap bring Jesus to the children.

I mean, what makes a chaperone happier than having to fear for the safety of her charges getting to see interesting urban characters?

Best part of the day was definitely listening to the kids whine for lunch watching the children leap with excitement when it was time to eat. And annoying thrilling to see that they were too busy playing human dominos to actually sit down and eat.

Seriously though.

It was a very long day really fun. I honestly hope I don't have to go to another one of these this year can't wait for the next one.

Remind her of this when she's 15 and hates me, will you?

Sisterhood of the Traveling Shoes: Branson Edition

Me and the pink lovelies are packed and ready to go away (yes, again) for the weekend. This time, with just some friends. Headed down to born-again Las Vegas (aka: Branson). Don't have too much fun without me, peeps.

Dan: hope you like the latest shot of my feet. I did it just for you.

A decade

Dear Chase,

Well, big boy, you are a decade. I would say I can hardly stand how fast the time has gone, but I say that every year, and I am sure you are sick to death of hearing it. (Even though it's TRUE!)

It has been a good year for you. You are now in fourth grade and have settled into your own kind of routine. Homework is not a challenge for you (most days) and you still have to be forced to read just about anything that is a work of fiction. You would cheerfully spend your quiet reading time pouring over college-level textbooks on topics like reptiles or World War II.

Funny, now that I think about it, you also did that at age two. You couldn't read then (obviously) but would sit on my lap in the library for hours as I read to you the names of obscure dinosaurs. You never got bored as I described in thorough detail the inner workings of dinosaur digestive systems or hunting tactics. You soaked information up like a sponge, and still do so today. Daddy and I joke that you are a walking encyclopedia of random, useless information.

But it's what you love, kid. And there's no changing the essence that is you. You are absolutely an original. A quirky, handsome, hilarious original. They broke the mold after they made you, that's for sure.

You have been busy the last few weeks, working on a frog comic book that you are hoping to sell in mass quantity. I am afraid to break it to you that your target audience is probably solely your grandparents, and even they might be hard-pressed to pay thirty dollars for, as you put it, "an original, signed by the author!"

But that's the thing I love most about you, Mr. C. You dream big. You shoot for the moon and somehow seem to catch it every time. I am in awe of your fearlessness, your confidence. I don't think the word impossible is at all a part of your vocabulary.

Thanks for making the last ten years so darn entertaining. You are a special spirit, Chase, and I am humbled that someone trusted me enough to send me you.

I love you more than you'll ever know.

Love,

Mama

A picture perfect weekend

Over the weekend, the Husband and I flew to Utah to meet his siblings and surprise Oma for her 60th birthday. It has been very difficult to keep the secret, and there was a time or two when I almost let it slip accidentally over the phone.

I know. I am not good with secrets.

Luckily, I kept my big mouth shut, and she was beyond thrilled when she walked into the restaurant and saw all seven of her children and their spouses (minus one who inconveniently started to go into labor the day before).

Unfortunately, I left my camera in our hotel room during the big surprise dinner, and kicked myself all evening because of it. Being married into this family has its perks, for Marta has already documented the festivities here much better than I ever could.

What I did remember to bring my camera for was a little morning with this lovely lady. Yes, photogs everywhere, weep with envy. I was treated to pastries, fabulous conversation, and an impromptu photo lesson from none other than the best. I tried to remember how I first found Michelle in blogland, but I have decided since that she is my long lost soul sister. She is as beautiful in person as she is on her blog. Just as easy-going, intelligent, and funny as I pictured her to be. I cringe with horror at my inability to do her justice here, but fell in love with this picture of her and sweet little Mary anyway.

I imagine posting this is somewhat like handing Michelangelo a stick-figure drawing you have done and asking him what he thinks.

I would be remiss if I didn't also mention how much I fell in love with this gorgeous girl. Miss Mary is as cute as a button. She was mildly tolerable of the two cameras in her face, and very fun to sit and eat cookies with. I am fully convinced that she and Hannah need to be BFFs someday.

Later in the weekend, I was able to turn my camera onto my nieces and nephews. Looking at these shots collectively made me laugh - they are almost all blue-eyed and blond. Scandinavian ancestors much?

Absolutely adorable though. Need proof?

These pictures are for a top-secret little project I'm working on. It may or may not see the light of day, but rest easy, Mom, you'll get copies of these shots at some point.

It was a fantastic weekend and we owe so much to the good souls who were kind enough to watch our kids while we were away. (Thanks Meggan and Maren!)

Stay tuned - coming this week: Thanksgiving dinner in September and a big boy turns ten.

loving her is the easiest thing in the world

Dang, I love this girl something fierce.

We were driving in the car together yesterday, and her chatter floated up from the backseat - her words filling the air around me like a warm blanket. She's happy, this girl, and it's contagious to be around her. She is relatively unconcerned with the realities of life, floating through her girlhood on a cloud of innocence and laughter.

Just the way I want it.

She's social, yet loving. Spirited, yet tender. Sweet and spicy, all rolled into one. A contradiction that makes perfect sense wrapped up in her tiny 47-pound package.

Sometimes she leaves me breathless as I stare in wonder at the sage-like wisdom she articulates so well. Other times, I take a deep breath and count to ten, searching for that last ounce of patience while silently wondering why I have to explain myself to a seven-year-old child. But then I step back and realize that she wants and needs detailed information about everything in her life. She will not be dismissed, this one. She wants to understand reason, logic, and emotion.

I think maybe she wants to understand me. So that she can understand her own heart, too.

She brings a sparkle to our family that is all her own. She has the men in this family wrapped around her little pinkie finger, even though some of them don't know it. As a baby, she even knew how to charm the men. She'd leap out of my arms in the hallway at church, reaching for her favorites. She'd bury herself in their embrace and reward them with her crooked smile. They were like butter in her hands.

(Drove the wives of these men crazy who were trying to buy her baby love with goldfish crackers. Right, Cindy?)

She keeps me in line, and calls me on it when I don't do what I should. She is automatically my teammate and likes what I like because she wants to be like me (at least for now). I know she is watching every move I make, and that helps me walk a little taller and try a little harder. I want to be a better mom so she can be a better one herself someday.

I love you, Chica.

Just thought I'd tell you that today.

Photoshopping up a big batch of trouble

Question: What happens when there is a Saturday football game on television, and a certain someone's husband is ignoring them busy watching it, leaving that certain someone with a lot of free time on her hands?

Trouble, that's what.

Well, remember this gorgeous girl?

And this gorgeous boy?

Well, what if I happen to know that a secret not-so-secret wish of both their mother's hearts is that this someday were to happen?

Names were changed to protect the victims innocent, but let's just say that if this blessed event were to take place in, oh, a little over two year's time, two women I know would be overjoyed.

I'd simply be overjoyed at the sheer perfection of their combined genes and the gorgeous babies they'd have together, leaving me to beg and plead to photograph them daily.

But for now, the ball is in your court, Justin & Rachel. Just know that we've got the invites all ready to go, and neither one of you had to even be in the same place at the same time.

A cheery thought on a Monday, I'd say.

What must it be like?

I had an extremely fun photo shoot last month, and am now just getting a few of the pictures posted for you all to see. Didn't mean to take so long in getting them up - life just somehow got away from me.

The real question is, what do you think it would have been like to be this gorgeous in high school?

I will never know, you see, for when beauty and kindness were being handed out in heaven, I accidentally got in the chubby and selfish line. Thought there would be donuts and was mighty disappointed when I got to the end and there wasn't.

But I do get the opportunity to live vicariously through the beautiful people who are nice enough to give this amateur photog a chance.

Ladies of Provo, listen up: This handsome boy is now in your city and breaking hearts where'ere he goes, I am sure.

His sister is still at home, and absolutely breaking hearts where'ere she goes. How could she not with those cheekbones that make models everywhere weep with envy, and that flawless, pristine skin? It's almost not fair that she's so nice, too.

I'm betting she didn't get in the chubby and selfish line hoping for donuts.

Where do they get such fine genetics? From their drop-dead-gorgeous mother, of course, who had the audacity to tell me they don't get it from her.

I know, right? The proof is in the puddin', sister.

She's gorgeous and I'd sell my soul to be thin like her. Course that would mean I'd have to stop eating the donuts.

Danggit.

Thanks, Jennifer, for giving me the opportunity to take pictures of your babies. Your family is so beautiful and it was so fun to spend time with you guys.

Counting my blessings again

I have nothing for you here, my friends, but can send you elsewhere today for some of my words.

Mormon Women is featuring a post I wrote over a year ago that was definitely life-altering. Go check it out if you haven't read it yet or read it again if you need a reminder for yourself, like me, that somebody is watching out for you.

I still get chills when I think about what could have been. And I still tear up when I wonder why it wasn't.

God is good. And He blessed my little family in a very simple, yet profound, way.

Happy pretend Monday.

A weekend so full of estrogen it will be scary

The boys are leaving this weekend to go and watch themselves a little college football game. Live and in-person, in the great state of Texas. (Which hopefully won't leave them too disappointed when if the Cougs lose.)

Ha. I say that as if I know what I'm talking about. Implying that I honestly care about college football.

I slay myself.

Anyhoo, the little Princess and I are on our own for the next few days, and, boy, has she ever got plans. She brought up a large stack of DVDs last night, informing me that THIS is what we'd be watching. I smiled as I noticed that my all-time favorite was at the top of the pile. Though she's tried many times to make it the whole five hours, she has never yet managed to stay awake long enough to meet the entertaining Mr. Collins, let alone see the love story through to the end. Something tells me this could be the time. FINALLY she will see Pemberly and understand why I swoon at the thought of Mr. Darcy jumping all sweaty and such into the water.

Her wanting to watch it also tells me that I am absolutely raising that girl right.

She also made a lengthy list of things she and I are to do while the boys are gone. Top of her list is shopping for clothes at the mall, shopping at the scrapbook store, actual scrapbooking, manicures & pedicures, and watching a lot of "girl movies."

I am pretty sure this will be the best weekend. EVER. Hope yours is, too.

P.S. Did you know a while back my brother Dan created a blog whose sole purpose is mocking me? Please pay him a visit and tell him how much you love me. That would tick him off something awful. While you're there, you can have a good laugh at what I looked like in sixth grade.

Yes, I know. Some things are just that frightening.

Sisterhood of the Traveling Shoes

Over the weekend, I was the lucky recipient of a most happy package. Not one, but TWO fabulous pairs of shoes (and some chocolate and a magazine, too). This little ditty came courtesy of the chic and hip Diane (whose shoe collection I am sure would give Imelda Marcos a serious run for her money). Diane has had her fair share of bad luck and broken bones over the past few years, and is not able to wear all of the oh-so-pretty shoes she has stashed in her closet.

Can you imagine the horror?

So rather than have those lovelies gathering dust on a shelf, she has generously decided to spread the wealth.

Thus was born her idea for the Sisterhood of the Traveling Shoes. And, lucky me, I am the first sister. I will keep these gorgeous shoes for 30 days, document the places I take them (seen here lounging at the pool) and then will choose someone who will then get them for the next 30 days. And so on and so on, until these pink puppies have traveled the globe. What would thrill me to no end would be seeing these happy shoes on display internationally somewhere.

Aren't they cute?

So leave a comment letting me know whether or not you'd like in on the fun. The shoes are a size 9, but I'd wager you smaller-footed peeps could make them work, too. On October 1st, a new sister will be born.

Let's show these shoes a good time, shall we girls?

My very own titan of industry

The Husband has been asked to speak at a conference next year in New Orleans. He keeps conveniently forgetting when it is exactly, and I keep nagging reminding him that if said conference takes place anytime on or near mardi gras, he will most certainly find himself sharing a bed.

WITH ME.

Ain't no way I'm sending the man I love into that den of iniquity all on his own. All those hoochie mamas and their beads.

Nasty.

ANYhoo, he has needed an executive portrait for the speaking engagement, which is something he is absolutely loathe to do. It is a torturous event each year just getting him to pose for ten minutes in the obligatory family Christmas card photo. Getting him to voluntarily submit himself to a portrait session in a suit and tie?

Probably as awful as having to go to mardi gras with your hag of a wife, I'm sure.

But he finally acquiesced and I am happy to show you the results of his my hard work. I give you the Husband, a titan of the health care industry:

(Note the absence of a wedding ring on that left hand. It was lost years ago while he was coaching gymnastics and I've never replaced it. I think it's time I did, don't you?):

(Want to see the same picture straight out of the camera? Taken in my ghetto basement studio, you know, with the un-ironed white muslin backdrop and the un-photoshopped face? Amazing what a few clicks in Photoshop will do for even the best looking face.)

While dashing and handsome even still, he lacks that certain luster that pretty lights and a good photoshop edit can give you. (And he also now realizes that every picture in the magazines is not remotely the straight-out-of-camera shot. Yes, we all CAN'T be expected to look like Elle McPherson. Even Elle doesn't look like Elle, if you know what I mean.)

Here is another of the finished ones. I tell him this is his "Happy-going-to-lunch-executive-look."

Much less stoic and boardroom-like. It's kind of what he looks like if you're sitting across the table with him having a casual conversation.

See, honey? The photo shoot wasn't really that painful.

And I'd say that one of the perks to having your own in-house photographer is getting to wear your plaid shorts instead of slacks, all the cookies you can eat while shooting, and not having to pay your photographer in dollars.

Brilliant, I tell you. The man is brilliant.

And also pretty dang cute, if you ask me. Look out, Na'Orlins. Here he we come!

Some beautiful people for you to oogle

A few weeks ago, I was extremely honored when I was asked to photograph this handsome devil:



I mean, hello? Who wouldn't jump at the chance to shoot this?



This strapping young man has just joined the military and was home after basic training to visit his mama. Yes, ladies, he loves his mama AND he is single. But not for long, I'll wager.

What is it about a man in a uniform? Of course, I'm old enough to be his mother, so I say that in the most maternal, non-creepy, non-cougar-like manner.

Ahem.



A bonus in this photo shoot was turning my camera on his gorgeous sister and her (pretty-much-already-is-but-soon-to-be-official) fiancee. I've waited to post these until I was sure I could say that without blowing the whistle on them, but I think the date is now set. They are going to be a darling family.

Someday to have the most darling babies.







It was one of the funnest shoots I've had in a long time. Beautiful, grown-up people who love their mama and love each other?

Photography heaven, I tell you.

P.S. I crop all my pictures to a square for blog posting, so some of the edges of the photos get cut off in the process. I assure you that all heads and backgrounds are intact when pictures are handed over to the clients. In case you were wondering.

Some good advice for any age

A few days before school, we sat the kids down - as we do every year - and talked about the upcoming challenges and exciting prospects of a new year. Especially with Mack starting middle school this year, we felt it was important for them to be aware of those around them. We want our children to be friendly and inclusive - to notice that lonely soul off to the side and find a way to broaden their circle. They've been the new kids more times than not, and I don't want them to ever forget what that's like.

At these talks every year, we also stress the importance of doing their best. Sure, second grade isn't exactly the pinnacle of academic achievement, but we feel they need to learn to try their hardest, no matter WHAT level they're on. We constantly remind them that their only job right now is to do well in school.

Which really cuts into Chase's hopes and dreams of playing his ukulele on the street for cash, right next to the crack dealers and homeless shanty towns.

I know, we're just cruel like that.

But when I found this list in Hannah's backpack the other day, it really made me smile.

What can I say? Girlfriend likes herself a good list.

I find them often on her nightstand - lists of what she needs to do the next day, lists of books she wants to read, and even lists of outfits she plans to wear.

Clearly, that nut didn't fall too far from the tree.

But this list particular list takes the cake:


In case her little handwriting is hard to read, here is the translation:

• Try my best on every test
• Introduce myself to a lot of people
• Never say anything roude (rude)
• Never swear
• Don't do anything that is mean just to be funny for your friends
  

Excellent words to live by. Can you imagine what the world would be like if everyone followed that advice? MTV might actually play music again. You could walk the halls of any high school in America without an assault on the auditory senses. And reality television, as we know it, would cease to exist.

I'm pretty sure she just might be on to something.

Trading in those three minutes

Do you hear that?

It's the sound of silence in the Casa de Stie. The little people who have been such good company all summer long have loaded their backpacks, donned their new clothes, and took happy steps onto the big yellow bus which steals them from me each year.

The younger two are still in elementary, but the biggest boy is making the leap to middle school this year.

Honestly? I am more terrified than he ever will be. Not because I think he will be bullied or will struggle with the course work. But because these little lives of theirs seem to keep marching by at an ever-increasing pace. I mean, wasn't he just born? Wasn't that like, um, 47 minutes ago?

How is he in middle school now?

It makes me angry a little bit, how fast it all goes. I feel gypped. I want some time back, to make sure I memorized her baby smell or the sound of his toddling voice cheering with glee as he knocked over YET ANOTHER tower of blocks. I want to pinch those chubby cheeks in the highchair and run my fingers through her hair after the first big-girl haircut. I want to play with that excited three- and one-year-old in the park again, only this time, I'll not sit exhausted on the bench. I'll get up and chase them. I'll hug them tight through their laughter, and tickle those round bellies with kisses when I catch them.

I'll forgo the Disney babysitter just this once and cuddle them to my chest, breathing in their sweaty sweetness, and make up story after story about princesses, dinosaurs, and firetrucks. I'll not make such a fuss when their little muddy hand prints appear on the wall. I'll bend down and look at more ladybugs in the dewey grass.

I'll hold them tight. And never let go.

Because you know what? They really don't stay like that for more than a minute. I never would have believed you if you had told me that when I was counting the minutes until they were out of diapers or putting them to bed early so I could have JUST THREE MINUTES TO MYSELF ALREADY.

Well, I've got those three minutes now. And then some.

And I think I'd happily trade them if I could.

Take care of my babies today, please.

Meltdowns, love machines, and things to look forward to

Last week, I had the mother of all meltdowns. I was overwhelmed by all that I had to get done, and was finding myself choked with panic at the lack of time to do it all in. I was exhausted and beat up. I found myself in tears on the phone with the Husband, and later that day with his mother. I had reached my breaking point and knew something had to give.

So, what did I do to deal with the crises?

I threw my hands into the air and took the week off.

I know. How very adult of me.

But I have no regrets, you see, for I played with my babies in the sunshine, soaking up the last few hot days of summer. I laid on the couch and held my (big and jointy) little girl in my arms. I watched movies. I finished a book that was started far too long ago (and LOVED it so much that I am planning to re-read it). I actually cooked dinner a few times, and did not have laundry blocking the mudroom walkway every night.

And, I won't lie to you, it felt damn good.

But I would be remiss if I didn't share with you a couple snapshots from the previous week when we got some time with these delicious people:

Sam, the undeniable Love Machine

Luke, the self-proclaimed Hurt Machine

Emme, the long-lost sister Hannah's been waiting her whole life for

Jake, the Nerf-wielding, wrestling, boxing, sword fighting pal that fit right in around here

We felt so lucky to get a few days with our cousins from the east. The girls took to each other like long-lost sisters and we only saw them emerge occasionally from Hannah's bedroom to grab snacks before they were off to swap clothes and write plays together.

The big boys bonded instantly over our vast arsenal of Nerf guns, prompting Gabi's oldest to immediately rush to Target and spend his savings on a whale-sized Nerf gun of his own. Chase and Jake spent their waking hours traipsing through the woods hunting squirrels and jumping endlessly on the trampoline. It amazed me that they never seemed to get tired.

The little twinks, well, they had each other and big cousin McKay for entertainment. I will forever think of them as the Love & Hurt Machines, and will always regret not snapping that photo of Sam and his hilarious naked typing. (there's one for the wacky google searches, eh?)

But most memorable for me were the poolside chats with Gabi and late night pontificating about all things related to life. She is one of the wisest women I've ever met and I will forever value her thoughtfully rendered opinions. She makes me laugh like nobody else I know, and she has a knack for making you feel beautiful, smart, and put together.

Which my meltdown last week clearly proved otherwise.

But it truly was a magical few days, and we were definitely wishing for more when they pulled out of the driveway to head for home. Luckily, we've conned them into Thanksgiving at Amish Country again.

(Any bets how many times the Husband pleads to go off the grid before we even get there?)

Stay tuned for a busy upcoming week: I've got photoshoots galore to show you. The new business seems to be off and running with a bang, which makes my heart so very happy. Plus, school starts on Tuesday for my babies. (As does my new career as a lady who lunches and sees a lot of movies.)

I am sad, yet I am also secretly excited.