Our pumpkins are carved, the candy is bought.  

And hidden because I have zero willpower when it comes to fun size candy goodness that I manage to avoid the rest of the year. 

We've done a dress rehearsal with costumes...one is too big and one too small, 

but I'm telling myself that just adds to the charm of a baby and toddler dressed up in head-to-toe trick-or-treat gear.

 

If our Halloween tomorrow is anything like our trip to the pumpkin patch a couple of weeks ago, 

we are going to have the best time tomorrow with these littles.  

It's really wonderful seeing the world through your children's eyes.  

 

Such grand adventures and pleasure out of the simplest things.

 

Does parenthood just get better and better as your children get older?  

 We told Henry he couldn't ride the hayrack ride tractor wagon back if he didn't sit and take a picture with his sister.  

I think I read somewhere that consistency is the number one rule in parenting and bribery is the second.

 

Girlfriend wanted the biggest pumpkin she could find, but Andrew squashed her big pumpkin dreams next to the pay price/pound sign.  Sorry Sis.  We'll work on him.

 

I remember thinking last year how much fun Henry had at the pumpkin patch 

(the pretty one, not the closer one that we ended up at this year due to a little schedule/timing issue), 

but this year he really had fun.  

I would imagine next year ups the ante again.

Only a few more hours until my little family reunites after spending a week with part of us in Hiawatha, part of us in Manhattan, and part of us in Wichita as Andrew has been farming with his family all week, my kids are currently with my parents getting ready to head to the Homecoming parade in Manhattan, and I've been at home by myself for the past two days shooting, shooting, shooting, editing, editing, editing.

I don't care if those sweet babies are asleep when I get there, I'm still going to kiss their little faces off.  And then go have a drink at So Long.

Wooooeeee, we made it through another week!

I think it's safe to say I'm in the peak of my busy season (hooray!), which makes me think I've really got this, and it should be downhill from here.  But actually, the peak is probably another two weeks long, and then I can start my decent out of at least one photo shoot nearly every day, 

and settle back into a more focused presence with my family.  

There's been a lot of early mornings, and working during naps and Sesame Street for Ham, and post-bedtime trips to my computer, 

and I'm keeping up with some aspects of life, but not others.

Like laundry.

Why does it always turn into a three-day event?  

Sort into piles, start the first load of wash, even get it moved into the drier, and a second load started, only to then stall the rest of the day, maybe fold a load, too tired to put it away.  On day two I just ignore the still semi-sorted piles on the floor of my bedroom, vowing to start again at naptime, 

and maybe I do.  (Or don't.)  And then on day three, I kick it into gear and everyone has clean clothes again.  For maybe three days.  

So right now, instead of a three-day laundry marathon, it's just turned into more of a constant cycle of trying to catch up, and then deciding maybe the kids will just stay in their jammies for longer than normal until I get a load finished in time to get them dressed in pants and tops fresh from the drier in order to leave for errands for the day.

 Most hilarious failed kiss-attempt ever.

Meh.

There's nothing like a sign to slow down like pulling the back door closed of the Tahoe on top of your head with as much force as you can because you're trying to get everything from the car into the house before your toddler lets the dog out of the backdoor again only to find him 

(the dog, not the toddler) sprinting down the street towards freedom.

--

Today, after the house was semi-clean (because these days semi is good enough), for once, we had nowhere to go, 

except for into our backyard to play on our new-to-us play set.

Thinking of throwing mulch...

 ...good decision.

Not exactly what I was thinking of when we decided to freshen up our space, but probably even better.

 Girlfriend's pretty pleased just to get propped up at the end of the slide.

Okay, really pleased.

Here's to working hard and playing hard this weekend.  We're going to do both.

I grew up thinking my mom was the best cook in the world.  I remember when I was much, much younger telling her she should run a restaurant because I thought she could make anything, and make it well.  She was one of the only people I knew that made pie...with a homemade crust - gasp!

I still think there's not much better than a home-cooked meal from my mom.  

Now that I'm in charge of making sure the little mouths in our home are fed and happy, I realize why my mom's food was soo good.  

She enjoyed making sure her family was taken care of, and her cooking reflected that.  

(Also, she grew up in the south and lots of her recipes reflect that.  Yes, I will put butter in that!!)

I'm not saying she felt like this all the time, or every trip planned to the grocery store, moments before dinner was ready, 

and she's asking us to set the table , especially when she got home from work, and we were all whiny and staaaarving.  

 (Probably more my siblings than me.  I would never do that.  It definitely doesn't sound like me.)

 As I find myself following in her shoes, I'm finding so much value in trying to find foods that my family really enjoys.

One of which just happens to be trying to cook my way through her pie recipes.  

I haven't made it very far.  

Chocolate Meringue?  You are my nemesis.

But I can do apple.

Not the prettiest, but omg, this is how much we had left after one night.

(And shared one piece with our neighbor.)

It may have taken me three times as long to make since I had a special helper in the kitchen, and we may have started over on the crust twice because said helper dumped all of my ice water into the flour when I wasn't looking, but surely Ham knows I just need extra practice. 

And the best part?

Sprinkling sugar and cinnamon on the left-over rolled out pie crust, throwing it in the oven just for a bit like my mom used to do 

and giving it to Henry and Nelle for their own special treat.

I couldn't help but sneak in a taste.

It tasted just like I remembered.

Like home.