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The best homemade caramel corn ever.

No joke.

A few years ago I decided to try making caramel corn and it turned out so yummy that every year around the holidays I make it as gifts or for my kids... or, yes, for my late night couch dates with Adam in which I am the only one who eats it.

Well, it's taken me a little while to figure out what makes the caramel corn the best, but if you've ever wanted a good recipe, this is the one (with a couple of additions...)

The first year I air popped the popcorn. Pain. In. The. butt.

I discovered it's every bit as good using a little of this:

The bags say "gourmet popcorn." That makes me laugh considering this whole box was like a dollar. I like the generics.

Anyway, I think I popped six bags to end up with this:

You can use these big disposable shallow roasters... they are perfect.

But beware of the "gourmet" popcorn bags... if you get in too big a hurry... this can happen..

that's one big honkin' paper cut, let me tell you. It's still throbbing and a throbbing finger makes typing very difficult. And now you're probably worried I dripped my blood in the caramel corn.

Have no fear...

Spongebob and Patrick to the rescue.

Side note, but don't you hate band aids on fingers? Every time I washed my hands, the water was trapped in there and by the time I took it off last night, my finger was a white, shriveled mess.  And it felt weird and yucky. (How's that for a good description?)

Anyway...

Next, you put brown sugar, corn syrup and butter in a sauce pan. The recipe I am using is from allrecipes.com and it's an Amish recipe. Apparently the Amish only sort of like sugar and butter because the first time I made this, I measured everything...the popcorn, the ingredients, etc. and it was NOT enough caramel for all the corn.

My advice? Double the recipe for the caramel.

Which gives you this:

And then induces a guilt-panic about the mass amounts of butter you need for caramel corn. Don't worry. One of those sticks is organic so this is a very healthy recipe.

So you heat this delicious concotion up on the stove and stir it all together. Once it starts bubbling, you have to stir it for five minutes continuously.

that means, make sure the toddler is settled with a good Veggie Tale before you start the five minutes. And make sure you don't have to go to the bathroom or anything emergency-like.

Because it'll start to melt...

 
And it'll start to bubble...

And it'll need your undivided attention... almost as much as everything else in the house that needs your undivided attention. Namely... the monkey...

So you stir for five minutes, mixing all of it together...  

I'm such a diligent, committed caramel-corn maker... (and this is such a flattering photo I had to share it.)

...then take it off the heat, add baking soda and vanilla and then pour it over your popped corn.

Just dump it over and then get a big spatula and start to stir it around. This is when you realize how important it is not to fill these pans TOO full... you'll end up with popcorn all over the floor.

Take a moment to marvel at the mass amounts of geese flying over head...

Notice in the upper right hand of that photo that I am viewing the geese through a broken window (double paned)... yes, that was a present from Ethan that came in the form of a rock. After he was warned to stop throwing them in the direction of the house.

But really. Isn't that a ton of geese?? Or perhaps I'm just taken with them because I have a two year old who runs to the windows shouting GEESE! GEESE! everytime they fly by.

Ok. Back to caramel corn.

This is the part that's kind of annoying. It has to bake for an hour, but you have to take it out every 15 minutes and stir it...and this is important, but the caramel needs to be scooped up off the bottom and redistrubted on the top of the popcorn...otherwise you'll have a section of really caramely corn...and then a bunch of buttered popcorn.

Lame.

And yes, I speak from experience. There are no shortcuts in the world of homemade caramel corn.

Anyway, it's worth it, because when you're done... you get this:

And that is some really, really good caramel corn!!

Here's the recipe:

Ingredients

• 7 quarts plain popped popcorn
• 2 cups dry roasted peanuts (optional)
• 2 cups brown sugar
• 1/2 cup light corn syrup
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1 cup margarine
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Directions

1. Place the popped popcorn into two shallow greased baking pans. You may use roasting pans, jelly roll pans, or disposable roasting pans. Add the peanuts to the popped corn if using. Set aside.

2. Preheat the oven to 250 degrees F (120 degrees C). Combine the brown sugar, corn syrup, margarine and salt in a saucepan. Bring to a boil over medium heat, stirring enough to blend. Once the mixture begins to boil, boil for 5 minutes while stirring constantly.

3. Remove from the heat, and stir in the baking soda and vanilla. The mixture will be light and foamy. Immediately pour over the popcorn in the pans, and stir to coat. Don't worry too much at this point about getting all of the corn coated.

4. Bake for 1 hour, removing the pans, and giving them each a good stir every 15 minutes. Line the counter top with waxed paper. Dump the corn out onto the waxed paper and separate the pieces. Allow to cool completely, then store in airtight containers or resealable bags.

*From allrecipes.com

Happy caramel corn making. :)  
 

An Artist.

I read a quote today that said it takes a very brave person to call themself an "artist."

I get that. I have never in all my almost 34 years thought of myself as an artist. Or an artiste. Or a person who works in a studio. Nothing of the sort. I had trouble calling myself a writer for years and years, in spite of my degree in journalism and the fact that I've pretty much always done some sort of writing and almost always for pay ever since college.

Still. Artist is a label that I've never given myself.

But the more I think about it, the more I wonder if being an artist isn't so much about talent but more of a state of mind. If I'm a writer and I dream up stories and put them on paper and live in a world of imagination, aren't I then some sort of an artist?

If you take pictures or write poetry or play a musical instrument... if there's something inside you that calls to you in the quiet times and asks you to please give it a little attention... if there's something solid that fills the hollow spots in your soul, something that begs you to plug in to that imaginative state... if there's a seed-idea that gets planted and then watered and then grows and grows and won't leave you alone until you feed and fertilize it...well, then maybe you know what I mean.

But the desire to be creative is something I have always taken for granted... until it wasn't there anymore. After I wrote my first two books, I just needed a break. I was burned out. I needed a new outlet because I was drained. But nothing came. I started writing and then I directed Godspell and all of that has helped fulfill some sort of deep creative need, but the truth is, I like to work with my hands. I like to see ink and paint on them. I like to preserve my memories. I like to dream in color.

But the desire just hasn't been there.

And then Sophia had her unfortunate school awakening in which she learned (at far too early an age) a little too much about human anatomy and the perverted side of life. And I laid in bed. And I dreamed of what I wanted to say to her. And I dreamed in color. And I wished there was a way to show her she was safe... in spite of this being an unsafe world. That I was committing to pray for her daily. To do what I could to keep her safe.

And lyrics to a song popped into my head. You won't know it, though you should. My friend Rachel wrote it and gets stuck in my head regularly. The lyrics are (in part)

in the shadow of your wings
to you jesus, i will sing
in the shadow of your wings
i will hide

then, it continues...

i'm safely covered here.
i have no need to fear.
i'm safely covered here.
i will not be afraid.

So I start imagining some sort of wall art that would feature those words. Something we could hang in her room. And I looked online for awhile for some REAL ARTIST who would make one for me (like, I would tell them what I wanted and then they would create the painting...) but I struck out. In the process, I ran across kelly rae roberts blog. I admired her art for a long time and then realized she doesn't create commissioned pieces. Sad day.

I happened to be cleaning my scraproom during this whole fiasco and I ran across a one-page article Kelly Rae had done in Memory Makers Magazine.  I still have most of my copies of the magazine, so finding this one and finding that article was pure kismet. Do I believe in kismet? no. But if I did, well, that's what this was.

So I sat down that day, dragged out all of my paints and brushes, all in my newly cleaned room... and I copied Kelly's example to the T.

In scrapbooking, this is called "Scraplifting." I have never been a scraplifter, however, I think when you're venturing into uncharted territory...this is a great way to learn. My results were less than stellar.

 
Just okay. Especially the face. And as I compared it to Kelly Rae's... not even moderately okay. Morbid.

But I was learning. I learned. I discovered things I'd been wanting to know forever. This is new for me. I'm the kid who picked up the flute in sixth grade and wanted to be able to play like the teacher the same day. So, I'm impatient. I had to talk myself through this.

So, the next day... I tried again.

I made the one for Sophia's room. The lyrics to the song are on there though you can't see them with my cell phone picture. I have to be quick and sneaky at Christmas time. even now I'm terrified she's going to come in and catch me... I'm such a rebel.

Closing the eyes helped me. I didn't do so hot with the open eyes, so might as well make her a sleepy angel-girl. (She's praying, I tell you...)

But I liked her better than my first attempt and that was what mattered.

So basically I'm now obsessed with painting... and I'm not even good at it. But painting makes me happy and being creative makes me happy and feeling like being creative makes me even happier... especially after so many months of stale, uncreative wandering around wishing I could find my muse.

So, what's the point?

Well, I'm glad you asked. I guess just this. You don't have to be the best at something to put time towards it. It doesn't have to be for money or for publication or even something anyone else will ever see/read, etc. It can be for YOU. And it should be for you...born out of a passion that's deep in your belly. And at first, your attempts may look like copycats. And that's okay.

Because, eventually, your soul will sing...

*Photo is not mine. I found it in a google image search.

Words: "He'd lived among the shadows for so long he couldn't help but wonder how it would feel to step into the light."

Bad photo of that one. Cell phone again.

Eventually, you will hear the first sentence to start your new novel or your character's accent will pop into your head. You'll spot that woman in the grocery store who walks exactly like you imagine your character should walk and you'll be able to bring her to life onstage. You'll hear a stunning melody that won't leave your head and then realize it's not a song you've heard before... eventually, when you work your creative muscles, they will grow... and not in ways you think. You could be painting and get an idea for a novel. Or be writing and get an idea for a photograph.

It's just the way it works...

Reads "My impossible dreams...aren't."

And pretty soon, you'll FEEL alive again.

Excited.

Energized.

Jazzed as my good friend C.W. likes to say.

Because being an artist REALLY jazzes me. And saying I'm an artist is bold. And courageous. But I'm good with that. Because every artist has to start somewhere. Not every artist is born with a brush in her hand.

There's working. Rewriting. Reading. Studying. Researching. Learning. Making mistakes. Starting over. And trying again. and again. and again.

And you may never be the best. It's okay. I'll never paint like my grandfather painted.

But I'll be darned if I'm not going to enjoy it anyway.

 
 
 

holiday spirit

Everyone has their traditions. Some people do this "elf on the shelf" thing that no one will explain to me. Some people journal their Christmas. Or buy a new ornament every year. I do some of those things, though I wouldn't consider them traditions.

Tradition, to me, is something I've been doing since I was a kid. Something that evokes a little nostalgia... and this, my friends...

does just that.

This is the same cookbook my mom had when I was growing up. The best ever cookie cookbook and I'll even forgive them the misspelling of the word "cookie" on the cover. (Seriously?) Betty knows her cookies... and for Christmas baking, this is the one to get.

Years ago, I was trying to think of a gift for my mom when somehow I ran across this book for sale at amazon. My mom's is so well loved it's literally falling apart so I bought her a new one (I should've stipulated that she keep the old one in a safe place somewhere but knowing my non-sentimental mother, odds are it hit the trash bin that same day. I have no idea where my packrat tendencies come from.)

Anyway, I agreed to bake Snickerdoodles for our church cookie walk this weekend and it's the first of my holiday baking. Turns out, one little peek at this book and the holiday mood hit hard. Like bricks on my head. 

The snickerdoodle is not my favorite cookie... but I will say, the recipe in this book is pretty darn good.

Even in its rawest form.

And yes, I did eat the equivalent of two (maybe three) cookies in dough. but I never licked my fingers and I never double dipped the spoon.

Mama didn't raise no fool.

Even as little balls of delectable goodness the snickerdoodles are so promising. See, the key is to bake them for just under what it calls for in the book. My book calls for 8 minutes. I ended up baking them for about 7 minutes and 52 seconds. yes, I am anal about my cookies.

And it pays off because just look:

Ok, maybe you're too taken with my old cookie sheet to really focus on the delicious-ness of the snickerdoodles.

I can promise you they were absolutely the perfect cookie. They were just a tiny bit crispy on the outside but a little warm and chewy in the inside. You crunchy cookie lovers can move right along... chewy for this girl all the way...

See? I tasted them so that's proof.

And I won't tell you how many cookies I ate, but this one was a "bonus cookie". It took me so long to get a shot that wasn't 100% embarrassing that by the time I did this was all that was left:

So I just went ahead and ate that too.

And it was good.

And now I'm totally in the holiday spirit. Like. for. real.

I might even find the gusto to leave the house today.

...and that's saying something.

   
  
   

Winner! (And another giveaway!)

I have yet to figure out how to paste a screen shot on my blog. I am so tech savvy.

 

So instead, here's what I do know how to do:

 

Random Integer Generator

Here are your random numbers:

36 

Timestamp: 2009-12-12 15:20:34 UTC

That means...here's the winner...

Dana Dennis commented on Snow Day Giveaway at My Weblog

I didn't even see that you threw in a copy of your book - even MORE awesome!

Manage Reply

2 days ago

 

Yay for Dana!! Dana, send me your address and I will eventually get to the post office with your goodies! :) (If in the event Dana doesn't email me her address by next Wednesday, I will draw another number. I just discovered I don't have an email address for Dana and I hope she checks back to see that she won!!)

 

I say eventually because, well, you know my feelings about the post office!

 

Thanks to everyone who played along! :)

 

Happy Saturday!

Snow Day Giveaway

It's been so long since I've done a giveaway. Mostly because I so hate going to the post office. I really do. With a passion. But. Because I spent the entire day cleaning, it's time to spread the scrapbooking love and give some goodies away!

Now, in my old house I had a great scrapbook room thanks to Creating Keepsakes and Cropper Hopper. Leaving the house wasn't difficult but leaving that room sure was!

 

I loved my room. Moving into our new house was a good move for us, but that didn't mean I wouldn't miss certain things about our old house. Specifically that room.

So we stole one of our front rooms and turned it into a scraproom instead of a formal living room (the dining room is a toy room too...) I am all about function. The plan was to move me to the basement eventually but having two big windows has spoiled me. I will never crawl down to the basement again. Not to write or to scrapbook anyway!! 

For literally five days I've been chipping away at my room. Little by little. Only yesterday it dawned on me that with everything secured to the wall there was little chance of me getting to paint this room, which I am still not completely accepting... but at least now it's clean.

I should've taken a before picture.

I am dreaming of painting the walls green. Sigh. My plan is to get a cabinet for that corner. Hoping it's a birthday present. :) (Hung and everything! Can you imagine?)

(PS I do know that my husband reads this blog. I am a shameless hint-dropper.)

That is my computer station... where I write and edit pictures. It was piled with junk. I added a cheap-o printer to the right because it won't use nearly as much ink as my HP Ink Hog. It'll be perfect if I need to print things out quickly.

I love that big cabinet. It holds so many things. Yay for big cabinets that hold many things. I threw away soooo much stuff and my recycle bin is overflowing but I also saved a LOT to give away. For instance...

that is all good stuff that I am going to gift to someone who wants it! (Well, at least that much... if your box looks empty I'll throw more in there!) Now, here is my disclaimer... since I don't do a lot of scrapbooking or haven't in awhile, I am short on 12x12 boxes, so if you win... it might take me a little bit to get to that post office that I detest with every fiber of my being (no idea why...) but I will get it out. I have three other packages to mail so it's bound to go out sooner rather than later!!

So just leave me a comment by Friday at midnight and I will draw a name and send this your way. U.S. only please. (Nothing against international friends, I simply don't understand all the forms that are required to ship to you... I claim blonde-ness.)  

So go ahead and leave me a comment and I'll pick a winner on Saturday. :)

Also, just so you know my kids aren't sharing my agorophobic tendencies...

That's Sophia after a victory lap down the hill in our back yard.

And Ethan after Adam practically threw him down the hill. He clearly didn't mind. :)

Okay, I'm off to mess up my room doing some experimenting with paint!

Leave me a comment! This scrap-goodness needs a good home!! :)
  
  
 

Innocence Lost?

 
That's about as much Christmas cheer as I've mustered so far this year. I even find myself oddly annoyed by the Christmas music that plays 24/7 on my favorite station in town. What's up with that? Am I really a grinch? And if so, when did I become one?

I think it has something to do with the many expectations I have placed on myself and always seem to place on myself. Cookies. Caramel corn. Delivery of those sweets to my neighbors. Three different Christmas gatherings for Faith Kids groups (which are fun but I want to do them up big). Christmas programs. Family gatherings. The list goes on and on. It's so much to cram into one crazy month. I swear we should start celebrating Christmas in July.

To make things worse, it seems like the holidays are when everything sort of goes awry. I mean, other things start to weasel their way in, stealing my brain time, my real time, my heart... I'll give you an example. Last night after she finished her homework and before she brushed her teeth our girl came into our room and said, "I have to tell you something but I really don't want to tell you."

Sophia is such a good girl. A rule follower. I don't mean she's always good. In fact, she's not. She can be stubborn and bossy and mouthy (kinda like me.) but she's GOOD. She does what she's told. She knows the difference between right and wrong. So sometimes she comes to us having heard a word she shouldn't have heard. Sometimes those words are just a little bit "off"... like it'll be so close to a swear word I'd correct her if she said it, but it's just different enough that we don't have to tell her the actual words. Maybe that's a mistake.

The latest one (before last night) was when someone told her little friend she was swearing because she accidentally popped her middle finger up while trying to wiggle her backpack into her hand. We didn't go into details at the time, but these are the kinds of things my 3rd grader is coming home from school with. Typical things. Sad, but true. This is about the age they are finding out all those things we've so carefully sheltered her from.

But last night was different. We had so many other things we were supposed to do last night. Meetings and get togethers that all fell through at the last minute, but I really think God orchestrated that on purpose because He knew that our girl was going to need us to explain some things.

We just weren't ready.

See, in my mind, I still see her this way...

Tiny little chickie running hand in hand with her friend. Excited about birthdays and stuffed animals and all things little girl.

Sophia sometimes over-dramatizes things. Especially at bedtime. But I could tell by the look on her face she was concerned.

Sophia: I have to tell you something, but I don't want to. My friend told me something and I really wish she hadn't told me it.

Adam: It's okay, hon, what'd she say?

Sophia: She was playing on the computer when something popped up.

At this point, she covered her face.

Sophia: I really dont' want to say it.

Adam and I both were thinking of those lovely banner ads that pop up. You know... "Meet hot singles in your area" or "Get ripped in 30 days". They show men and women who are wearing next to nothing and this is why we don't let our kids have a hotmail account or go surfing the internet when we aren't in the room. But when she actually told us what it was that popped up... when she described what her little friend saw online... my heart lurched and my stomach turned.

My eight year old beauty was telling me about one of those websites. The kind you block on the computer. The kind that seem to be more and more prevalent and invasive. Repeating what she'd been told in vivid detail. Describing an act that I didn't even know existed until I was probably a senior in high school.

My eight year old baby.

And suddenly I realized how innocence is lost.

You can insulate them and protect them and shield them. But you can't hide them. Even though you want to. And I found myself wondering as I struggled to find sleep last night if maybe, just maybe I let my guard down a little too much. I am supposed to bathe her in prayer. And I do... but have I been diligent enough? Vigilant enough?

It may seem like a little thing to some people, but to me...and to Sophia... it was anything but a little thing. I could see in her face that shame was trying to heap itself on her shoulders. She cried after she described what she'd been told as though she'd done something wrong. I assured her she had done absolutely nothing wrong, but she had done everything right by coming and telling us. We were proud of her and we loved her. No matter what.

It opened the door to so much conversation. Conversation I wasn't ready to have. And thoughts of conversations I will have to have in the near future.

With my baby. Who is not a baby anymore.

The words "they grow up too fast" don't seem to suffice.

They DO grow up too fast. Our world sees to it. And as a mom, I'm pretty ticked off about that.

She deserves to be innocent and little...for a lot longer than this.  

Rockford, Illinois Photographer... My soon to be famous friend

I know so many talented (amazingly talented) people. I am lucky to know this one. Sheree is one of the best singers I've ever met--and I know a lot of really incredible singers... but when she asked me to take photos for her soon to be released CD jacket, I got really excited. This was a totally low key, easy-going photo shoot and we had a blast. :)

Plus, knowing that this is a huge dream for my friend makes it that much  more exciting. I am so thankful I got to do these photos!

Is she beautiful?

Is anyone else annoyed that this girl has had twins and still manages to look like this? haha.

Hamming it up. THIS is the Sheree I know and love!

that's probably my favorite one (above)...

Sheree thinks I'm funny. This is why I want to take her along with me everywhere I go. :)

Thanks, Sheree for trusting me with your mugshots!  
 
 
   
 
 
 

My Baby is TWO.

I guess I don't really have a "baby" anymore. Unless you count the little Monkey who now refers to himself as "Big Boy." As in "Big Boy do it." "Big Boy get down."

Today "Big Boy" is getting very frustrated with "E-E" and is actually yelling "Stop that RIGHT NOW."

Yep. He's not really a baby anymore.

Today, he is two. Today he is a toddler. Today he is big boy. That's not to say I don't remember when he was just a baby. I remember, alright. He was my hardest delivery by far. And to make matters worse, they botched my epidural (though no one would admit to that...) But I got to walk away with this guy...

So that was a good consolation prize.

Ethan thought so too.

I can remember sitting on the couch holding Sam and thinking we had this sort of kinship--two lost souls brought together by pain and trauma. I mean, everyone says birth is traumatic for a child (it must be, but I won't go into all the reasons why I think so)...and the pain of giving birth was borderline traumatic for me. So we were tied together, Sam and I. 

Well, we all were. We all fell in love with the Monkey.

And everything in our world changed. 

January 08

February 08

March 08. Not nice to make fun of chubby babies. Just remember that.

April 08. Wii lessons from big bro.

 
 
 May 08 Apparently these last three months Sam spent in the Bumbo seat. I didn't think he really liked it that much.

June 08. This is how I think of Sam up until he was about nine months. I imagine this photo in my head and always assume he was this happy.

 July 08

 August 08. Doesn't he sort of remind you of Mr. Roper from Three's Company? It's like the mis-matched shorts and hat have a distinctly "old man" feel about them.

 
 September 08

And it was around October that things began to change.

 
 
October 08.

Told ya. Sick. All the time crabby. Couldn't figure out why.I lost all my photos from November (and they were some of the best family shots I had for my family and my extended family. It was a sad day.)

Still sick in December 08. Big hives. Lots of skin issues. Cranky. runny nose. Not sleeping. Not fun.

 January 09

 February 09

March 09. This was his first pair of shoes. Uggs. He wouldn't allow anything else on his feet. At this point, I still had no idea why. He was still very sick all the time. I had been to the doctor repeatedly and had no answers.

April 09.  I finally had my kid back. The future was looking bright. The month things started to turn around. Second pair of shoes. Soft shoes because his feet were so sensitive. As was his skin. Trip to the naturapath led us to the discovery that Sam has allergies to milk and gluten/wheat/yeast. Removing these from his diet and adding a strong probiotic turned him back into the crazy Monkey we loved so much.

May 09. Still happy.

 
 
June 09. Organic suckers were my friend during Ethan's baseball game. Sam liked them too.

July 09. Curls. So many curly locks. I have no idea where they came from.

August 09.

September 09

October 09. Dressed in his train engineer garb. This is when the Thomas phase started.

and this leads me to tonight. November 19.

Depsite my attempts to introduce Sam to the proper way to do a birthday, he really only wanted to play with balloons. So the presents were kind of a bust and the dinner was left half-eaten, but he came around in time for Scotcheroos--a gluten free way to have a happy birthday. :)

...may all your wishes (the big ones) come true...

Happy Birthday, Monkey.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Rockford, Illinois Photographer: Steve & Lyndsey

I had the chance this weekend to finally shoot my friend Lyndsey's family photos. It's been weeks in the planning and we were finally able to catch a date that worked for both of us. Earlier in the week her baby broke his collar bone, so I wasn't counting on being able to go through with it, but for whatever reason the kid is still perfectly happy!

Isn't he cute? He's 9 mos. old.

I think he's adorable.

I think his older brother likes him too.

Yep. I'm guessing they're gonna be good buddies... probably after a few knock down, drag 'em outs... but good buddies nonetheless.

Something about boys. I just love 'em.

Daddy loves 'em too.

And so does Mommy.

 Told ya.

...and I think they sorta love each other too. :)

 
 
 ...just a l'il bit.

Altogether they make one gorgeous family, dontcha think?

Beauties.

 
 
  
It's hard to believe Grant is just a couple months older than Sam. I guess he seems a little older because Sam is my baby and Grant is Lyndsey's oldest. Grant wasn't sure he wanted his picture taken until Mama promised him a popsicle. 

Popsicles make a boy happy.

 
 
And my favorite of the entire shoot...

Ok, so maybe it's not my favorite, but I do love it. I like the pictures that really are kind of happy accidents. In this one, Lyndsey was telling me to make kissing noises at Layton to get him to look at me. I'm kind of anti-stupid pet tricks ever since they used a feather duster on my kid's head at The Picture People. I never went back. But Lyndsey swore the kissy face would work. I had no luck with it. I think Layton only likes Mommy's kissy face.

Happy Monday!
 
 
 
 
 
 

Leaves

Two years ago, we moved into a new house. New construction. I was big and pregnant with the Monkey, and while that was an incredibly stressful time, we managed to come through it okay... Now that we've been here two years, I've discovered that one of the things I actually miss are the trees. We have a few trees now, but they are babies and we planted them this past summer. It's not the same as having those big old 150 year old trees.

Last weekend at my parents' house, Adam determined (in all his geeky wisdom) that one of the trees my dad had to cut down (it was dead) was 150 years old. At least. That's insane. Civil War insane. The history wrapped up in that tree amazes me. And it really is sad that it died.

Anyway. Not what I planned to blog about today.

Trees. When you don't have trees in your yard (or in your neighborhood), you don't have leaves. Which on the one hand, means the air stays relatively burn-free and that, my friends is a glorious thing for those of us with asthma and allergies. But it does make jumping in the leaves--a typical Illinois autumn MUST--kind of impossible.

Another reason to drive down to my parents' house for the day.

That's my niece Kendall, buried in the leaves.

And that's my other niece Kinley after a successful jump. The kids waited in line and kept running and jumping and Adam kept raking the leaves into ginormous piles and this went on, well, pretty much till the old man got tired.

Ethan getting pelted by leaves. Poor kid. This didn't go over well.

Completely buried, save one arm.

 He obviously recovered from all the leaf trauma.

Sophia's big on mugging for the camera these days.

And then... the leaf attack headed my way...
 
 

...and I ran.
 
 

...and everything kind of went haywire from there.

Leaves are fun...but only when they aren't being burned.