The Happiest Campers

The McDermott Family went on a camp out this weekend!


Steph and Jerad were crazy/kind enough to extend an invitation again this year since we all had such a blast year camping Yosemite over Jerad's birthday weekend. Due to our hectic work/social event calendars, the group voted to keep it closer to home this year and we ended up camping the exotic wilderness in the lazy back country of good old Santa Margarita.


Dawson's trip highlights:

Fishin with his dear old (and undoubtedly world's greatest) Dad,



Real live WORMS!



Having the perfect opportunity to show off his new mad bike riding skill,


Miss Dom (who is his AND mr. taylor's 'special friend...')


This here band of hillbillies and their cool taste in music,


Mr. Jerad offering an uninhibited lift in his cool death trap truck:


Being one with nature, and expressing himself in his art,


Staying up late watchin movies with the gang:


Sleeping with the worms and not another care in the world,


Choppin wood like Mr. Taylor,


Anabelle's trip highlights:

Being included in the blessed fishing event,



Freeing the wormies (into the lake),



Boys with guitars (uh-oh...),



Miss Stephanie and Mr. Jerad's new child (particularly his mouth),



Bonding with her greatest hero of all time,



JUNK FOOD,


Sitting at the cool kid table,


Being 'one of the girls,'




And the privilege of wearing Mr. Jerad's sacred cowboy hat,




Mom's trip highlights:

The great outdoors with the wilderness man,



And enjoying how fun he is to look at,


My lesbian soul mate,



Cozy good morning snuggles,






Old friends,



New friends,



Teaching Anabelle the simple joy of a ball and glove,





Being silly,
And having a silly little girl,


Being around other fun couples,


And fellow maternal/family bonding.


Dad's trip highlights:

His hot wife,


His beautiful little girl,
Taking his little boy fishing with the bigger boys (and relishing every photo op),







And, sharing all his cool and completely useful camping equiptment with his son.



This morning is Dawson's sharing day at pre-school, and he wanted to share a camping picture with his class, so his amazing Daddy got up before the sun to sketch this out for him to color in and share with the class:

Dawson was (naturally) BEYOND excited to color his Dad's amazing handi work, but kindly requested Ty add Mr. Jerad to the masterpiece, playing his "Dawsie Bug" song on the guitar.

After he left for work, Dawson also noticed the lacking presence of the tarantula he was lucky enough to spot on Saturday afternoon... so he drew that in himself, in a path leading AWAY from Mr. Jerad (and toward his sister...) Coincidence? I think not.




Needless to say, the kids had a BLAST (as did we). I might get brave and plan a huge multi-family trip for this Spring/Summer since we now know our kids are capeable of braving the extremities, and we've found such a fun group to enjoy the great outdoors with.

I tried a couple times to upload the video of Dawson worshiping at the feet of Mr. Jerad and the hilbilly boys as they serenaded him with the "Dawsie Bug" song and he sat in wonder at the campfire with stars in his eyes... but it kept taking FOREVER. Maybe in another post. Seriously, tho, the look on his face... I've only seen once before, in his battle against Darth Vader at the Happiest Place on Earth. So, in essence, that makes Jerad better than Disneyland to my lil cowboy... which is completely priceless to a mom of a wild (and somewhat hard to impress) toddler man.

Thank you, Mr. Jerad, Mr. Taylor, and Mr. Noah... and to the rest of the gang as well. I keep thinking of how good it is for my kids to be fortunate enough to have a circle of adults in their lives who care enough to look up from their scandel mags and put down their adult beverage of choice to make room on their laps for the cause of my children. Their self esteems and self confidence have been permenantly influenced for the better by each of you, and it means the world to me. You guys are heros to our whole family legacy!

Happy trails till next time.

xo

My Super Spooky Situation

Halloween costumes are posing quite a dilemma this year.

In years past, I've felt compelled to attempt a flare of creativity and find a cute little matchie theme for the tiny darlings.

This season, however, I've come to grips with the following realities:

1. I am not creative or crafty by nature, and I have not the time/energy to invest in coming up with costume of the year that will both wow the neighborhood with envy and appeal to my children's ever changing requests of how they would like to dress.

and

2. Store bought costumes and participation in candy dispensing to a neighborhood with and average of 3 school age children in every household is EXPENSIVE!

I've been milling this around for awhile now. I searched online and in every parenting magazine I could get my hands on for a cheap and easy costume idea. None of them were remotely appealing or practical.

Tyson and I are currently in a process of re-prioritizing our spending habits thanks to the new finance class we were invited to attend, and while I am not about to pay full price for something that is mass produced and worn for one gluttonous night of candy binging, I had thought about browsing second hand stores (goodwill) for some options.

Thankfully, my bargain shopping goddess of a mother-in-law beat me to it, and on her first attempt she scored this brand new, never worn superman costume with the $25 price tag still attached ...for $5.




Ok, so its no Martha masterpiece, but it will make my super little boy extremely happy, and it won't give him dreams of light sabering his entire family to death in their sleep.

One down, one to go.

Miss Anabelle would undoubtedly love nothing more then to be adorned in every high heel, pearl, ribbon and sequin available in all the land. She currently has a variety of Tu-Tu's, butterfly wings, and princess dresses in her dress up bucket (all of which she wears at least once a day). That said, I figure she would be relatively easy to appease with something we already have, and she would never know the difference.

But her Mom would.

Even after scoring such a find for Dawson, theres still this crazy selfish mom part of me that wants nothing more than to see the little girl's eyes light up when her shiny new alter ego is revealed on the evening of this blessed candy orgy.

So the unresolved dilemma continues on, and the window of opportunity is narrowing. I've been as patient as possible, waiting for the situation to work itself out (putting my 'good thoughts' into the universe, ha ha). But I am still fresh out of creativity for finding something that will make her feel glamorous and special on the big night yet keep me sane and hot glue gun free and committed to my budget.

Until yesterday when I went to pick the kids up from the kid's club at the gym, and there stood Anabelle, beaming with pride and admiring herself up and down, sporting a perfectly fitting (all be it, mildly torn) Supergirl outfit from the bottom of the dress up collection in the daycare.


She didn't want to take it off. And I never would have thought of the idea myself because, well, it just sounds SO BOYish. But... go figure, my daughter looked like a million bucks in it. It was likely in part due to the fact that her smile stretched from ear to ear. It suddenly occurred to me that (lacking the presence of sequins and sparkles aside) any adoring little sidekick would absolutely relish an opportunity to shadow their ultimate real-life hero for an evening.

Its perfect.

Except for the tiny little detail that... oh, wait, thats right... the costume doesn't belong to us, and borrowing it without asking would technically be stealing. Right? I think thats how it works, anyway.

So, I've been pondering a loop hole since 6pm yesterday, and the best I can come up with is... ask the director if I might borrow the getup for the evening, and kindly return it at my earliest convenience the very next day.

But every time I think about picking up the phone... and calling the gym... to plead my charity case... my stomach starts to churn. I dont know why. My mom always said to me growing up 'the worst thing they can say to you is no.'

And how bad would that be, really?

Well, I suppose not that bad... other than the fact that I will never be able to face the daycare help again being forever labeled the 'food stamp mom who is too cheap to buy her own kid a costume like the rest of us,' and will therefore have no other choice but to quit the club or transfer my membership to another city, which in turn will cause me either to blow up bigger than a pregnant elephant seal or force me to sell my body on the street corner to pay for the gas my new commute will cost me.

So, there you have it. Maybe I'm crazy. Probably I'm crazy. Definitely I'm dramatic at the very least. But I honestly just cant decide if its completely tacky or even at all appropriate to impose such a favor on a complete stranger. But I really, really reallyreallyreallyreallyGIMME NOWWWW OR ILL SCREAM AND I MEAN IT! want the outfit. And it wants me, too, I can feel it.

Whats a mom to do? The spooky clock is ticking...

The Barn

The Avila Valley Barn is a long standing McDermott family tradition. In fact, it started as a Harkness family tradition... one short lifetime ago.





When we first started going, it was a quiet, relaxed little weekend family outing (at least as I remember it)... now, my personal strategy is GO EARLY, or your kids will probably learn some new 4 letter words and perhaps get a crash course in rude hand gestures 101 just trying to find a parking space in all the madness.





But the barn never disappoints, the festivities and harvest displays of fruit and fresh baked goodness were breathtaking as usual, and the kids of course had a blast. We managed some good shots this year, as miraculously both kids are past the hay-eating phase and understand the phrase 'sit still and look happy for the camera, durn it, and I will give you a treat!' (I only wish I were kidding).






Tyson's mom and dad tagged along for the ride, too. I guess having his mother there made him feel like acting like a little kid again?



I love this next picture because (the quality distorted a little in the resizing process I think?) but anyway, I think Dawson looks a LOT like Tyson's mom for some reason with his face right next to hers. Its the first time I've ever seen that in him!






After the tractor ride down to the patch, the kids set to work in search of the perfect pumpkin. Dawson would find one he liked, then pawn it off on Anabelle the minute he saw the next best thing. Now theres a business man for you! Talk about finding a way to have your pumpkin pie and eat it too. Oh, Dawson.



Finally, he found this tiny, deformed, shrively and rotting soul:...





...And he goes "Oh, Here you go, Anabelle, I got this one for you."






She was SO thrilled, "Oooooooo, THANK YOU, Dawson!"





Ahh, little Belle-Belle. Someday she'll learn.





Meanwhile, Dawson picked out this monstrous wonder for himself:







And his softy of a daddy carried it (along with the right and proper pumpkin MOM helped Anabelle pick out) all.the.way.back. What a man.













Here, we have Ann and Anabelle sharing a moment. I don't know why I love this picture so much, but I really do...



And the rest of these... just make my little mommy heart burst with pride. I know I have a tendency to blog about the stinky things they say and do that make me downright banannas and about how much work they can be. But can I just say... After 4 years of being a Mom, sometimes I still cant believe how blessed we are that these little treasures are ours to belong to. And not only that they are tiny little people, with witt and character and personality... but that they are brilliantly smart and infinitely beautiful as well.

They are everything right and beautiful, and we would be so lost without them.

I love you, my little pumpkins!

Be Careful What You Put Out Into the Universe...

... because you JUST MIGHT GET IT!

I guess I should preface this 'tail' (bwahahahah) by saying that a few months ago, I readThe Secret and while I don't put all my stock in the ridiculously blatant humanistic/new age philosophies that are screaming for acceptance on every page, I DO think it raises a lot of interesting concepts I believe are true about life.

In a nutshell, 'The Secret' is about self fulfilling prophecy. Its about only getting out of life what you expect to get, and how ultimately your attitude actually physically shapes your destiny. If you expect your experience to be positive, if you live your life as if you are going to achieve everything you set out to do (even if you don't know how you are going to do them), the doors open. That's the nutshell, wayyyyy abbreviated version, anyway.

That said, again, I am NOT sold on all the principals of the book. But I am fascinated by the concept, and recently I've been (half jokingly) making note of all the things I've successfully 'attracted.'

My most recent example being our dog.

I know I've blogged about the crazy devil dog before, and ranted about his infinite energy level, endless puppy-hood, and amazing intelligence all of which we simply do not have the lifestyle to manage in order to make him a good family dog.

Don't get me wrong... we do what we can. I take him running with me at the very least twice a week, and he is always in tow on the occasion we make a weeknight family outing to the park. But its just not enough. Labs are (apparently) quite needy. They desire constant and fierce companionship. If their needs are unmet... they act out like the evil stepchild that locks you in the house then lights it on fire. So here we are a year later... with a cute widdle puppy-wuppy grown into a giant dog that is too much a part of our family to part with, yet demanding time and affection that we can not afford in our current lifestyle.

So we started brainstorming. I mentioned it to a few people as it came up, and other dog owners with similar working-class, child rearing, all together chaotic lifestyles seemed to say the same thing: get another dog.

It sounds completely illogical to me on many levels, not to mention impractical for the obvious reasons (more food, more poop, more vet bills, more barking/digging/chewing, GAH! STOP THE INSANITY!).

And yet... the more we watched as Diego obsessed over any and every doggie friend he saw at the park, and the more we realized that the issues he is having is a result of his loneliness that we are downright incapable of nurturing at this point... the more of a temptation it was to experiment with the idea.

The big problem was, of course, what if we get another dog that is EQUALLY as unmanageable in completely different areas, and then we just have an even bigger mess that we can't get out of because, lets face it, you just can't take a dog back to the pound once you've let your children name it.

So, we discussed the prospect, weighed the pros and cons and decided it might be worth trying, and then we forgot about it.

Until last week, when I was playing with the kids at the park, and this came trotting out of the wilderness:

Since I was among the slew of daycare kids, some of which are not particularly fond of giant slobbery monsters with sharp teeth and claws (imagine), my immediate reaction was "SHOOOOO! Go HOME! Get out of here!" followed by complete annoyance at the audacity of some people who let their dogs run free in the midst of small children without being close by enough to intercede when need be.

But I looked around, and there was no one. And Fido collapsed in the bushes at a safe distance, panting in the hot mid day sun. I figured as long as he was minding his own business, we would just ignore him, which is exactly what we did. Until it was time to head home... and despite my persistent booing and hissing, he trotted good naturedly at a safe distance behind us, right up the driveway and into the garage where he plopped down on a rug and gave a little whine.

That's when it first occurred to me he might be lost. I didn't have time to deal with it at the moment (what? I tooootally need another dog to be too busy for!), so I figured at the very least I could get Diego a play date out of the situation until I had time to deal with it. So I opened the side door to the dog yard, threw a cookie in, and slammed the door behind him before he had a chance to argue.

After the kids were fed and napping, I wandered out to see how things were going, and ponder my next step. The dogs were playing so hard they didn't even notice me... so I filled up the water bucket and then set to work text messaging all the neighbors I could think of in hopes of finding the rightful owner.

One neighbor thought it might belong a street over... so I went back out to the yard and turned him loose, encouraging him down the street in the direction of his presumed home. He didn't leave the driveway. In fact, he tried to follow me in the house. But I slammed the door.

An hour went by, and there was a knock. It was another neighbor, who lives next door to the house I thought this dog belonged to. He wanted to know if I lost my black dog. I told him my story, and that I presumed the dog belonged on his street which he in turn assured me he knew all the neighbor dogs on his street and this was not one of them. He said he figured he belonged to us because every time he approached the dog, he ran back to our house.

HE RAN BACK TO OUR HOUSE, people. C'mon, how can you deny that?

So... here we are, almost a week later... with 2 dogs still stomping around and playing non stop in their little dog yard on the side of the house. We put up fliers on the mailboxes and in the surrounding cross streets, and posted an add on Craigslist too. Nobody has claimed the mystery pooch.

Its a sad thing, too, because this is a NICE DOG. He sits, he stays, he comes... he is WAY mellow. He doesn't bark or chew... and since he's been here, Diego hasn't done either of those things either. This dog even POOPS in one dainty little corner of the dog yard, so as to keep things tidy.

Um... thank you, 'universe'?

I am certain that someone is missing him very much. I'm figuring he either jumped out of the back of some one's car, or else escaped from his yard somehow and wandered too far from home? He was found with a choke collar but no I.D. tags. I really wish we knew how to return him, it feels kind of wrong having such an ideal situation literally just come looking for us. I feel guilty for wanting to keep him so much, too. OK, there I said it. I want to keep him (and I'm not the only one).

So, I've been holding off posting this and telling most people, because there's still the chance (or even the likelihood) that someone will come forward.

But in the mean time, we are enjoying his company very much, and I know Diego loves him even more than we do. I took Diego out for my usual 3mile run on Saturday morning and practically had to drag him the whole second leg of the trip. He is plum tuckered out from all the frolicking!



So, I am thinking if nobody claims him by Saturday (is that too soon?), we are taking the plunge, buying him a collar and naming him Cosmos .

"Stay, Cosmos."

Has a nice ring to it, no?

A Short Story (by Dawson)

As told in barely above a whisper this morning, before my eyes were opened as we snuggled in bed:

"Once upon a time, there was a witch (?). And it had a motorcycle. And it rode it across the street, and turned right and went home. The End."

Looks like we have an aspiring young writer in our family. We're already saving up for Harvard.

A Boy and His Bike

An amazing thing happened this weekend.

Dawson has been pestering me for months to 'kindly remove his training wheels from his bicycle' (in his best British baby Stewie accent). Since we don't have the greatest insurance right now in the event of broken bones and smashed out teeth, and also since I always have a small tribe of semi-violent villagers hanging from me, I have been putting him off for quite some time.

But as the story goes, he finally asked at the right moment this weekend, when his Dad was home and screwdriver ready, with nothing in the whole world better to do on a Saturday afternoon than teach his son to ride a bike.

So the training wheels came off, the bike rolled down the driveway, the boys settled in for the first of many failed attempts in age old cliche of learning to ride a bike...

OH, WAIT. That's right, my child is EVIL KNIEVEL. SO, actually, what happened was... the kid freaking TOOK OFF DOWN THE STREET and only looked back over his shoulder to see how big the cloud of dust he left behind was.

No, but seriously. I was in the house cleaning out Anabelle's closet, and not more than FIVE MINUTES went by when Tyson said "um.... are you coming out to see this?"

I was half annoyed that Ty was asking me to stop what I was doing to stand in the street and watch my kid eat pavement over and over and over again, so imagine the shock when I walked outside and saw THIS:


Oh, yes. That's right. My three year old dare devil is a big-boy-bike riding fool. I mean, the kid literally just took off, and that was it.

And it was the cutest thing in the history of all things cuddly and warm to watch him flying down the street, completely fearless and wide eyed with a smile like Ive never seen before slapped on his sweet little baby boy face. In fact, he was SO proud of himself he knocked on every single door on our street to show the neighbor kids.

The men were out until almost dark Saturday night, exploring the neighborhood from the seat of an unbridled steed. When he finally got home, all I heard the rest of the night was "Mom, aren't you SOOOOO happy I can ride my bike now with no training wheels? Aren't you soooo proud of me?"

And Sunday morning we were up before the sun as usual, and we hardly had a chance to wipe the sleep from our eyes when Dawson started pestering his Dad to take him back out again. And since I am married to the best father I know of, Ty of course couldn't resist bundling up the little spiders and hitting the streets at sunrise.




And then, to repay the kindness of their hopelessly devoted father, who braved the cold Autumn morning for the sake of the cause... the little thugs repaid the good deed by spinning webs all over their helpless victim.


But something tells me he didn't mind.