A Trick O' Treat costume dilemma?

How about a one-eyed toilet paper mummy?

Or an evil Disney-something witch who likes to portray her fake goodness by holding a really cute dinky puppy? (The kids are not fooled--they have seen the movies. They know better than to follow a strange witch bearing enticing fruit, or cute animals. )

Neither of those suit you? Then how about a cute black, sparkly-eared kitty?

(With a half smeared nose.)

It comes with a basket of kitties, complete with their own costumes.

(Yes, they are mummy kitties--she thought of this all by herself.)

Or, you could go as a dark phantom with a ghostly floating third red eye.

(I have no idea how it got there.)

p.s. If you go as the black phantom, this means that:

1. You have convinced your mom of this costume--the closest thing to creepy she would allow.

2. You would not have to wear it all day, even to the Halloween party. Thus you would not have your mom following you around with her camera. She would be left to take a quick picture at night with her awful flash. 

Boo. 

Boo-Hoo.

oops.

When I said there would be a BIG reveal yesterday...I had it in my brain that it would be Halloween the next day (today). Oops. I goofed. Such is the state of my brain these last two days. Soooooo, BIG reveal is tomorrow. Really. And here is another "peek".

It has been one of those days that I have been on my feet for 10 going on 11 hours straight. I am, as you would say, "too pooped to scoop."

Sneak Peek

I was given strict orders to only post one picture. (Yes Ma'am!) 

She did not want to give away too much because her teacher told her that she did not want to know what her students were going to be for Halloween--she wanted to be surprised. So, we are hoping and praying that if Teacher looks at Mommy's blog tonight, she will be stumped, perplexed, baffled over this sneak peek. And she hopes that all her mommy's blog readers will be stumped as well. A lady cannot give away too much.

So tomorrow--the BIG reveal!

I know the anticipation is killin' you. Hope you can sleep tonight. (wink)

Mr. Cute Cap, how cute are you?!

I met a friend of mine, and her entire extended family, at the pumpkin patch today to take their annual "family picture at the pumpkin patch". This was serious business. They've been doing it forever. Some of the kids have grown and now new babies have arrived. It keeps growing and growing. 

So meet Mr. Cute Cap. A member of the Pumpkin Patch Shoot-Out Clan. This post is all about him, cause there were just too many that I couldn't pass up. 

Makes me want to go buy a cap and vest for my Zach and head out for a fun photo shoot. Sadly, I think I've missed that chance. He's ten. Need I say more?

Wind issues

Today was a very gusty windy day. The kind that keeps you indoors because it makes you mad with irritation just stepping outside.

I have serious issues with wind. Like "I need therapy" type of issues. 

Maybe it has something to do with:

1. living in a windy college bike town for 4 years. Riding my bike home, into the wind, every day from class. It was a sheer work out. Weary from the battle, I was so ticked-off by the time I got home I had to pick the bugs out of my teeth before I could eat dinner. 
2. the "incident" I had while on a high school choir trip. It is still hard to talk about, but let's just say it had to do with finding a spider in my mouth while trying to pull my wind blown hair, that had been plastered to my lip glossed lips, out of my mouth. 
3. that 1970's Disney Haunted House record--the one with the creep windy storm track...and the ghostly moans and foot steps.
4. watching The Wizard of Oz one too many times. Dorothy's scramble to find shelter during the tornado fills me with anxiety. Can she move any slower?

And those are just my top four...

 

Taking a moment

I need a little moment here to stop and take a deep breath.

November is lurking ahead with a calendar full of "stuff". 

Do not know how I will get it all done.

But I do know, that if I do not stop and take each day as it comes,

then I will surely miss the journey that November could be.

"Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow has enough trouble of its own..."

Amen.

Don't. Move. A. Muscle.

Not. Even. An. Eyeball.

Proof that it is physically impossible for a boy to remain still.

Yep, that is my son in the black shirt leading the pack.

 

By the way...what is up with my children and their weird need to lick their neighbor?

A timely escape

When your friends call and ask if you can play, you say "yes". Because you would rather play than deal with the 5 alarm mess that has been growing in your house.

When your friends call and ask if you can play, you say "yes". Because you would rather play than finish painting your computer room--which is why your house looks like a bomb went off in it because everything in that room is now somewhere else in your house.

When your friends call and ask if you can play, you say "yes." Because you would rather play than try and find your computer (that is hiding under a red sheet in the middle of the computer room trying not to get paint on it) and update your blog, even though you have used your camera as you have promised you would.

Yes, when your friends call and ask if you can play, you say "yes, yes, and triple yes."

Because you would rather go to the beach and explore the tide pools...

...and be the first to make your mark in the clean slate of sand...

...and display your killer artistry talent for all to see... 

(if you knew this girl, you'd know she is one amazing artist!)

...and kick off your shoes to feel the sand in between your toes...

...and make sea bush brooms and beg to take them home...

...and pose for your mom for TWO seconds, so she could catch the most beautiful picture of the day.

Now seriously, my friend, could you blame me for saying "yes"? 

p.s. Seriously, he gave me two seconds. Doesn't it look like we were on some amazing family photo shoot? I'm tellin' you--sometimes the best pictures are the ones you spontaneously grab. And with him, they have to be spontaneous. He doesn't give me much else.

First Lesson

We met Miss Jenn today for Bean's very first horseback riding lesson. Here they are heading out to the outdoor riding ring.  Jack the dog is running ahead. (He was just happy to have people around to kick his lopsided green ball to him.) 

 

Meet Rocky. He's getting his brush down. Both of them loved this part.

Two silly cowgirls out ridin' together.

Attempting a little giddy'up.

Must keep your elbows straight!

Caught this one of her friend Sophie. Doesn't she look like a little J Crew model?

The Bean loved every minute. And I loved it too. Something about being outside, the smell of earth and animals. I am a country girl at heart.

Moss Beach

I totally dig collages (as you might have already noticed). I love that I can capture all the moments in one space and create a story of sorts. 

So above is our afternoon at Moss Beach. Our time was spent chasing birds, and playing on our special little grass covered dune. (My hubby has got the dune jumping skills.) We also found three purple starfish washed up from the shore. Hello! I have spent my entire life at the beach and I have never found a starfish before. It was a magical moment for Michaela.

The weather was beautiful, the beach empty except for a few stray bird watchers, oh and a guy who stripped down and went for a swim. (Thank God for our excellent kid-distracting skills.)

Zach declared it his favorite beach ever and Michaela wrote her traditional sand note to the mermaids so she could receive their return letter the next morning. 

Couldn't have asked for a better afternoon with the fam.

Never (period)

While walking through Home Depot this afternoon, my son threw this very random question at me:  

"Mom. Would you rather eat a live tarantula or jump into shark infested waters?"

He was serious. 

My first answer was: "Dude. Where did you pull that out of?" And then, "Do you sit around and think about these things?" 

But he insisted...

"I can't even answer this question Zach. Both of those things do not even show up on my radar of possible-things-I-might-have-to-decide-t0-do-in-my-lifetime."

But as I was standing in front of the paint samples I found myself doing one of those "what if" type of thought loops. What if? What if I was forced to choose? What if someone held a gun to my head? "Lady! If you want to live, you must either eat the tarantula or jump off the boat into these shark infested waters!" 

Never. Never would this happen. (As I shake my head in protest.) Relax, I told myself. Do not waste needless emotional energy over something that would never happen. Snap out of it.

Ten years ago when I was pregnant with my first child, a boy, I would lie awake at night and plan and dream and write my mental list of things I would never do:

spank him

feed him sugar

let him go in the street

use bribes

use guilt trips

let him watch more than a half hour of tv a day

use tv as a baby sitter

let him chew gum--until he was five

let him play with guns--nerf, plastic, squirt, cowboy, pellet, real...

Let's face it. Never is an over-rated word. We hitch our ideals and dreams onto the Never-Boat and watch it set sail off into sea of life and possibility and some how it finds its way back to us with the tide, as if to say, "Really? You really mean it?" 

True loyalty to your Never is revealed for what it is when you are finally faced with the actual moment of decision.  Eventually, most Never's come back to us on the tide to test us, to question our loyalty. There are few things in my life I can say have survived this test in which my Never came through shining and intact. (Sadly, the only thing on the list above that survived was the gum chewing.)

So here I am...I have given in to the guns. 

Two things aided in the letting go of my Never:

I was weary from the fight. 

I gave in to the truth that there is something inherently in his boy nature that simply is drawn to a weapon. I have seen boys without this but my boy is not one of them. It begins when they are old enough to play out their imagination. And it is such a slippery slope. When he was two it was just a stick he imagined into a gun, then it was discovering he could build block guns, Lego guns, Tinker Toy guns. Then it was trying out Papa's vintage Daisy Red Rider BB gun. In the last year he has amassed a trunk full of Nerf guns. Now every day he is asking how he can earn money to buy an Air-Soft gun. Will it ever end? 

Tonight it was his dad's pellet gun. His father stood behind him (in his 15 year old tow truck driving shirt that one day I will dedicate an entire blog post to) watching him carefully, teaching him how to put the safety on, and yelling at him to stop waving it around. I know it is only a matter of time until he starts asking when he is old enough to own a real gun. 

"Never," I'll tell him.

I think I will employ my brother, a highway patrol officer, to sit down with him and give him "a talk" about guns. Perhaps Uncle James can say a thing or two, you know, to put the fear of God into him? Because I'm still holding onto that last Never. Gonna face it with a loyalty of steel when it comes back on the tide to meet me on the shore. God give me strength.

p.s. Tarantula. I'd eat the tarantula.

 

 

 

iPods and Pop-Tarts (or, When You Are Ten)

For my ten year old, life is all about...

• Music and ear phones. Bands like, The Scorpions, Bon Jovi, Guns and Roses, AC/DC, The Police--all that 80's rock that his rocker of a dad has passed on. For the first time we are having to "pre-screen" the music for lyrics. (Yep...Van Halen's "Hot For Teacher" is on the "I don't think so" list.)
  
• Discovering Safeway is far more fun than Trader Joes. Hello fun, empty, sugar-filled, salt-filled, fat-filled food! If I dare take him with me on a random trip to Safeway we make a deal before we go in: one, just one item of his choice. No bargaining for more. Lately, he has been bringing home Hershey's strawberry syrup. (nasty) That Pop-Tart? It's a TJoes "healthy" version, which he tolerates. But it is not the real thing. 
• Being out after dark. It's not like he wants to go run off or anything, he just wants to ride his bike up and down the street. Still, it's dark buddy. 
• Going to bed anytime after 9pm. Because before that is for babies (like his little sister who is sound asleep by 8pm).  I finally had to just shoot straight with him: "Look Zach, you can go to bed by 9pm but you have to be in your bedroom by 8pm--mom and dad are done for the day. We're just d.o.n.e."
• Earning money. Bugging me about his allowance. I finally went and opened a savings account with him and set up an automatic transfer of $5 a week into his pot. Oh, and he's sold more stuff on eBay than I ever have. Because right now it's all about...
• Buying things. Especially, an Air-Soft gun. Moms...the fascination never goes away. He and Scott sit in bed with the lap top scrolling through the many air-soft packages and deals. My only relief comes in the knowing that air-soft guns use...air. And when you get hit with the bubble-like bullets it's...soft. "What about the face? The eyes?" I ask. "They have these really cool face masks and helmets mom! You're totally protected!" Nice.

Yet though I jest, I marvel at this kid. He works hard...I mean hard. He belongs on a farm. If it weren't for child labor laws I would go get him a job bagging groceries, chopping trees, moving heavy objects. He mows and edges the lawn every Saturday morning--without us having to ask. He empties the dishwasher. He works on his bike. He loves a good book. He likes to take things apart. Dig holes. Pull weeds. Build stuff. Make his own songs on Garage Band. He loves being with his family, (I couldn't pull him away from the beach yesterday) and going on adventures. He talks to me about living in nature and how his heart aches for the mountains and trees and land. (I hear you Buddy, my heart aches for that too.) 

He still won't pick up his dirty socks, or clothes, or put away the toothpaste (he belongs to the male species) but I know that I love him. I have said it many times, in many posts...

I. Love. This. Kid.

 

Stirring things up

If you decided to just get out town with your family today and head on over to this beach, upon arriving you would discover that you and a million seagulls all had the same idea. Seriously. There were thousands--all enjoying the low tide, gorging on crab, and making some serious noise. It was actually kind of amazing to see.  Even the serious bird watchers were there with their super-sized zoom lenses that completely dwarfed mine.

Anyway, if you were there, you too would not have been able to resist stirring things up...

And this was just the "mini" flock. Multiply this by 10 and you can imagine what was behind me. We all thought it was quite a miracle that none of us got pooped on. Ha!

p.s. I'll share more pictures later. I've got that sleepy feeling you get after being at the beach all afternoon. A warm bed and movie sound sooooo good right now!

One infamous orange marble!

(For added fun, read with a little drama.)

Never will another marble, in the history of the world, experience his 15 minutes of fame like this one did today!

He had no idea that today, October 17th--2009, would be the day that he would find his true life mission: to aid in the extraction of one wiggly front tooth from a helpless 7 year old girl.

How he came to discover his true calling you ask? 

He simply remained still, focusing all of his life force on attracting a stumbling little girl.

Like a slow motion replay, he watched as she tripped over a nameless toy in her path, sending her body flying straight towards him!  He waited for what seemed like eternity, and then, she came crashing down, her wiggly tooth colliding perfectly with HIM--the waiting orange orb. It was a perfect marriage.

Oh there was drama. There was blood. Tears were shed. He left her tooth dangling by a thread and then watched as her mother finished off the mission with a cold wash cloth. 

But leave no room for doubt my friend. His deed was indeed heroic. He accomplished what no other person could do. What no other person was allowed to do: move that tooth along in its long overdue exit.

We praise you Oh Infamous Orange Orb. You will go down in our family history as our hero and friend. For you were there when when no one else was. You heard the call and you stood up...uh...well...lay in wait...to meet it!  You set aside your self doubt, your fear, and practiced bravery to the dramatic, glorious, end. And for that we will be eternally grateful. 

Well done my friend. Well done. 

Sometimes you just can't say goodbye

Though they have long out grown it, they refuse to give it away...even though their knees are shoved up into their chins if they even attempt to ride it.  When Zach was without serious wheels he would take to sitting on the back step and ride it like a Harley. Even the neighborhood kids will drop their big kid bikes to scoot up and down the street on it. (Just now, I told our little neighbor, Nic, to park it in the garage before he left for home.)

I love that it is still loved. Still tickin'. Hanging on to the past. A last link to when my little two year old Bean was cruising around on her shiny red trike, wearing her froggy rain boots, her wispy curly hair flying behind her. 

It has taken on a nice patina of rust, but I think that adds to its charm. I keep it because the kids throw a fit if I suggest we sell it at a garage sale. Who am I kidding?  Perhaps it's me that doesn't want to say goodbye. 

Leftovers

I am of the camp that L.O.V.E.'s leftovers. I often make a double portion of dinner so that I can have extras for lunch, or better yet, save in my freezer for one of those crazy days when I just do not have time to slave away in the kitchen. (Bring on the microwave!)

So, today I offer you my leftovers. I just got home. My feet are tired. I did not get the chance to even pick up my camera, let alone "slave away" in the editing room cooking up some fun recipes. Even if you are of the camp that does not like leftovers (how can you not like leftovers I ask?!?!?), I hope you will at least like these...

Shooting from the hip

Since I have taken up this photo blog thing I have found myself taking more risks to capture an image I see in my head. I have plowed through mud, crossed busy roads, climbed trees, bore the strange stares from passers by, patiently waited for the light. But sometimes the risk is not so calculated. Sometimes in an effort to be more discrete I have had to shoot from the hip...literally. (Give it a try!)

Case in point: Thirty minutes ago I stood on my front step wondering what-the-bleep I was going to take a picture of today. At least the rain had subsided so I could go outside. But honestly, I thought I had exhausted the possibilities for daily pictures from my front yard. (And my kids were not going to be helpful in my time of need.) 

Then lo and behold, my daughter danced out the front door to ask me a random question. (And by random, I mean random. Like, "Mom, is Gracie's dad's hair real?"--or something like that.)

As I watched her bounce around the front step, chirping away, my camera hung at my hip dying to be picked up. Instead, I quietly turned on the camera and just aimed in her general direction. Out of seven pictures snapped, I claimed a winner. Praise. The. Lord.

What I love about this picture: 

1. That one, little pony tail glued to the side of her forehead. All her doing. (You should see her American Girl doll.)

2. That left front tooth about to come out. Geez it's taking forever.

3. Her round full face--a little rounder at the moment as she is on the brink of a growth spurt. You know, the plumping before the growing stage? (My son, on the other hand, never plumps up. He just becomes loosey goosey, out of his skin, and runs on "E" in the coping skills department.)

4. And lastly, that twinkle in her eye! 

Not sure I could have caught that smile and twinkle if I had tried.

Now. Go shoot from the hip. See what ya get.

A study in contrast

It has been raining non stop. A deluge. Like a fire hose on full force and we are all trying to gulp it down. The gutters can't handle it. The traffic can't handle it. The tow truck drivers, I'm sure, can't handle it. (Hey, give the tow truck drivers a little love. My hubby used to be one.) And, our poor school principal surely can't handle it--as she had all the kids in the cafeteria during lunch time today and it was class picture day, which was in the...cafeteria. (Yes I had to redirect a few kids who wandered into some of the pictures--not joking.) I am not complaining, really. Even though the rain caught me unprepared when I realized my daughter did not own a single jacket. This I discovered as she is running out the door into the rain in her little flimsy sweatshirt, with her broken Dora umbrella, trying to keep the rain drops off of her fancy picture day outfit. (I will not be winning the mother of the year award.)  It's just we spoiled Californians, the gutters and drains included, have to acclimate. Adjust. 

Especially when just days ago we were all soaking up the sun, still wearing our flip flops. Should have taken our cue from the sunflowers and soaked up as much as we could. 

Like I said, just give me a few more days to adjust. 

A miss and a gift

California is bracing itself for it's first storm. Not a raging one, but our first fall rain with ominous clouds and a chill wind stirring the air. (Totally Halloween'ish) I was walking through my family room looking out at my lonely back yard. 

Spotted: the abandoned kids' wheel barrel. I should probably bring that in, and the golf club too, I said to myself. 

I sighed at the desolate yard and the lonely wheel barrel when a black bird flitted down and perched perfectly on the handle. 

Come on, look closely...can you see him? 

Well then, imagine it? 

Wow, I know, what a beautiful picture that would have been. That small little life amongst the deserted landscape. 

Yes, a total miss. I was completely, totally, utterly bummed.

I went and snatched a slice of bread and tossed out bits, trying to coax him back. Birds like bread right? But no one came. While resigning to the fact that I (and you) would have to settle with a mental photograph of the beauty of that moment, I noticed...

...peeking over my back fence. A lonely Morning Glory creeping over the fence to say hello. A small gift of beauty given back in return for what was lost.

p.s. While writing, I got up to grab a snack and noticed that all the little neighborhood Wrens had discovered the bread crumb feast. Several of them were bouncing through the dirt, into the wagon. Picture me doing the army crawl on my family room floor, camera in hand, coming up just over the ledge of the window to capture those winged friends. 

With their six sense they saw my big fat lens, and me, and took off. Darn that sixth sense.

Have you heard that birds have a "zone of tolerance". They each have a measurable distance that they will let you come near before their "flight" instinct kicks in. Wrens have a very large "zone of tolerance".

Pigeons and Seagulls have a very small "zone". That comes as no surprise I'm sure. Any trip to the beach or park and you feel like letting your hubby get out that pellet gun he's always itching to use.