The double standard

The other day, I was perusing a Victoria's Secret catalog that had come in the mail. The Husband innocently strolled up behind me and caught a glance of the half-nekkid beauties in their skivvies. His eyebrows naturally went up in interest, and I immediately slammed the magazine shut and chastised him for being a man.

It was all in good fun, you see, and he smiled, laughed, and pointed out the fact that I employ a double standard.

Exsqueeze me?

He's right, you see. For the last post recorded on this blog featured a half-nekkid photo of a very attractive, but underage nonetheless, 17-year-old boy. The words written by me were in praise of the boy's glorious nekkidness, and I mooned and swooned verbally for several paragraphs.

Now.

Imagine, if you will, that the tables were turned. If the Husband had a blog (bwaahhh! Sorry, the very idea of that makes me laugh) and he wrote a post discussing several hot, young, underage girls. And let's just say he even put up a picture of one of them in a skimpy bikini. What would be the consequences for him then?

Well, we all know what the consequences would be.

I'd be LIVID. He'd be in so much trouble that I'd be getting flowers and diamonds every week for the next five years. It would be completely unacceptable for a grown man to write about a 17-year-old girl in that way. Is it any less so for a grown woman?

The funny thing is - he has no problem with my mooning over the hot young thang. He encourages it! He figures (rightly) that me getting excited about physicality will ultimately benefit him in some way. And the Twilight books? The female equivalent of literary porn. Totally made me want my husband when I read them, ifyouknowwhatimean. But would I allow him to peruse literature that provides the same reaction for him?

Not in a million years.

All this prompted a very interesting discussion and I feel compelled to put this question to you, dear readers. Why the double standard? Why do men not mind when we read things, watch movies, or fawn over half-nekkid young men? Why are we unable to reciprocate the same privileges to our husbands? Are we wrong? Should they be more outraged? Should we be less insecure?

Discuss.

Switching teams briefly because I must

While I take great delight in imagining my brother Dan rolling his eyes over this post, I cringe slightly in dedicating yet another post to what I feel is a slightly embarrassing fatal flaw on my part:

My love for the Twilight books.

Most of you know that already, but there is still a part of my grown up psyche that feels it beneath me to admit that. I wanted to hate them. I wanted to not be able to get partway through the first one before tearing apart and mocking the so-called bestseller.

But I couldn't.

The Edward that was created in my mind became the perfect storm of men. Part Heathcliff, part Darcy, part billionaire, and all solid, chiseled abs. Delish.

(Sadly, the movie Edward doesn't remotely come close.)

But since I just saw the movie this morning (no, not at midnight. I AM a respectable thirty-something cougar, you know), I feel compelled to share my thoughts with you here. (Bye Dan. Lost you at the word Twilight, didn't I?)

Here goes:

1. Their version of Edward makes my skin crawl. He needs to have those eyebrows waxed. He's more pasty white than most albinos. He's way, way too skinny. It's all I can do to not want to feed him a sandwich and make him take a shower. Why couldn't they tone him up like they did Jacob? He's supposed to be all muscles and money. Plus? Any man that wears more lipstick than me is not a man I want to fantasize about kissing. Yuck.


2. The movie Bella is so twitchy, it's distracting. I honestly can't tell if she's having a seizure or if she's got Tourette's. It's seriously all I can think about when I watch her.


3. Aren't the vampires supposed to be attractive? Isn't that part of their charm to lure in the unsuspecting prey? I think they forgot that when casting all these actors and applying enough cake-white face paint to rival the circus clowns. Every single one of them (with Alice and Emmett being the exceptions) look hideous to me. Honestly, did they even read these books before casting parts? Or are the people possibly attractive, but we can't see that because they're covered in so much flour make-up?


4. Um, that Charlie IS hot stuff. Though I'd definitely make him shave the 'stache before we got to know one another, ifyouknowwhatimean.


5. And last, but not least, I am declaring myself Team Jacob for the movie version of Twilight.
   

*Head hanging in shame*

I'm very sad to say that. I was so devoted to Edward throughout the books. I swore that if she put Bella and Jacob together, I would burn all my copies and never speak of them again. But Jacob is DARLING in this movie. He's warm, inviting, gentle, and sweet. Plus, hello? Look at this:

And how very lucky for us that he just so happens to remain shirtless throughout most of the show. It's worth having to gag over Edward for that eye candy alone.

MEEEOOWWW.

There. That is all. Discuss.

Ah, the sense of humor someone has

So, you know how yesterday I posted about how awesome I am and how great my life is?

It's still all of those things. I'm just going to say it more quietly from here on out.

Life thought it would be funny and force me off that high horse today. It decided to send me two MORE sick kids, a husband whose business trip is extended by another few days, rain, a really bad hair day, a sleepless night, and an error of massive proportions on my part involving some clients' pictures and holiday cards.

All right. I get it. I'm not awesome and my life is not perfect.

Happy now, stupid universe?

Don't worry, though. I still think I'm awesome.

Thirty-six

Today, I am thirty-six.

Lots of people asked me today how I felt about turning over yet another year. And do you know what I said?

I feel so damn good.

For sure, my thirties are a lot more fun than my twenties. In my thirties, I no longer have to change diapers. Most nights I get a full eight hours of sleep. I feel more confident - like I am finally at home in my own skin. My wrinkles are not yet prominent enough to be requiring the botox. And I am slightly less concerned with how large my rear end is than I was in my twenties.

Only slightly.

But still. That's something, right?

Plus, I am actually getting paid to do something I love to do, on my own terms. I spend approximately seven hours every day all by myself. I have three beautiful kids who I can't wait to see at the end of those seven hours. I have a husband who, though out of town today, made sure to send two of my favorite birthday things: Cash and flowers.

I have friends who went above and beyond to make me feel loved and adored today. Friends that are like family. I have actual family who called and texted the birthday love. I have the Book of Face (which happily announces your birthday for you), thereby leading many old and new friends to wish me a happy day.

So as I sit here tonight, proofing pictures from a fabulously rich weekend in Philly, my new favorite soundtrack (Glee) is playing softly in the background, and I can't help but notice it --

I am just so blessed.

Can't wait to see what thirty-six has in store for me.

Stayin' Alive (but barely)

I have so much to tell you. Where do I begin?

I would like to, first and foremost, complain about whatever hurricane decided to work its way up the eastern seaboard this weekend. Um, hello? Did it not get the memo that I was coming to town and had requested sunshine and blue skies for the photographing?

Apparently it did not.

Which is precisely why the rain and I can no longer remain friends. We had a tepid love affair to begin with, but I have cited irreconcilable differences and vow never to be in the general vicinity of the rain again. Stupid, stupid rain.

I also would like to tell (and show you) all the beautiful people I got to take pictures of this weekend. But I cannot do that just yet. Hours and hours of proofing and edit work will have to happen first. Trust me on this one, though, it's going to be good. Philly is home, not only to the delicious cheese steak sandwich, but to some very beautiful people, as well. And I was lucky enough to be wielding a camera around some of them.

One thing I probably won't be telling you about is a little incident that occurred on the Turnpike when a certain Bee Gees song came on the radio, and oh yes, I did.

I got jiggy with it.

Very, very jiggy.

And to the little old couple driving innocently on a Sunday morning, mucho apologies, for the spectacle you had to witness. But, honestly, can anyone sit still when Stayin' Alive comes on in the car? Ah ah ah ah, stayin' alive, stayin' alive. Whether you're a brother or whether you're a mother...

There I go again. Sorry.

Lastly, I will take this opportunity to curse the universe once again for timing my return home with Chase coming down with the swine flu. I don't know what it is, but EVERY. SINGLE. TIME I decide to get on a plane and go somewhere by myself, I come home to a sick child. Why? WHY? Further proof of the universe hating me can be found here, here, and here.

Well, as they say, there's no place like home.

[And there's also no place in this home to fit the mounds of laundry waiting for me either. Stupid, stupid laundry.]

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]