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.