The first Long Grove squirrel hunt took place October, 2005. Ross wore an orange pumpkin costume given to him from my forever friend, Jill. I'm guessing I wore a shirt with milk stains and a sour nursing bra. In those days we sipped Diet Sprite, Cranberry and Vodka drinks as I encouraged our newest family member suck my nipples into a fine leather.
And as the grown men sat around the baby gym waiting for Baby Ross' next squirm, fart, or want, us women took pictures of anything we could find to entertain ourselves while prepping for our next meal. Grandma Green would bring some applesauce in a Cool Whip container, Grandma Claussen would have a pricy VM gift for Baby Ross and Grandpa Green would just smile. We'd casually slip them a little more Riunite than they'd asked for hoping for a tidbit of interesting information we'd never heard before.
We've binged on Turdunkin and Cheesy Potatoes, take shifts eating meals verses playing train in the basement, ate more tea rings that one could count and prayed the morning would finally pass during the endless mornings of the fall time change.
That's our ritual. It's not fancy. It's not formal. It's not gourmet and it's not relaxed. It's not peaceful and it's not easy.
However, it's our Thanksgiving.
It's our weekend to give thanks for our countless blessings and the lives that surround us. Mom busts her butt to get 'supper on'. It's not a fun job, but I know she loves it.
2015 was filled with laughing to Taylor Swift songs...
kids...
Girlfriends making awkward poses in fields...
Getting Kennedi to smile...
Guess what?
10 years has happened.
Baby Ross participated in the hunt this year.
"The Cousins" reunited.
'Blessed' doesn't even begin to describe it.
The second batch of photos to come soon...
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