Posts
November 2011- Have you ever been so tired you fell asleep before you finished lunch?
tractor trouble
November 2011- Here's a warning to anyone sending Christmas gifts for Brazos. This die cast metal tractor was no match for him.
99.99%
November 2011- This is what a toddler in the 99.99%tile for height looks like. He's long and lean and difficult to find pants that fit him.
And here's what he looks like folded up like a frog. No, he didn't fall asleep in the bathtub, but when I drain the water he likes to stay in the tub until all the water is gone. Then he does crazy stuff like this. Which is why I need to keep the Comet bathroom cleaner handy.
amber waves of hair
October 13, 2011- The boys in this house tend to keep short haircuts; just much neater and cooler for all the wearing of cowboy hats that goes on around here. Brazos is 16 months old and yet to have his first haircut, but it was time. It has been getting a bit too long for my liking; it isn't thick, just a bit wavy. As for the color, there are times when I'm convinced it has a reddish tint; then I see a kid with really red hair and I think not so much. Then there are days when it looks blonde but when he buddies up with one of his cotton top toddler friends it doesn't look so blonde anymore. I guess it falls more into the strawberry blonde category.
I needed to do a few things in San Antonio so I decided it would be a great time for his first haircut. My strategy was to take him somewhere with total strangers so that not if, but when he had a fit I'd never have to see them again. Get in, get a cut, get gone and never go back- that was the plan. My victim was Kool Cuts 4 Kids. Our stylist was Janelle. I tipped her well.
No cute "first haircut" pictures of him sitting in the fire truck chair with the drape around him smiling and taking it all in. Brazos would not allow it. I suppose there will be plenty of these milestones that will go unphotographed. When he gets older he'll no doubt think I didn't care enough to take pictures and I'll have to explain to him it was not even a remote possibility. OK, I get it, he's only 16 months old and I shouldn't expect him to behave like a 3-year old. But here lately he has been a C~R~A~Z~Y child in my presence; his teachers at Mother's Day Out and Oma all say he is just the perfect angel when I'm not around. I was fully aware of what to expect. I probably should have waited for a day that Casey was home and could go with me but that would have taken a whole other level of coordination. Instead I was treated to God's daily reminder that I'm not in control and a lesson on the virtue of patience. I'm not a very good student.
He was M~A~D. So mad he took off screaming toward the door and ran smack into it, just like a bird on the Windex commercial.
At first he was excited to climb into the fire truck seat. That lasted all of 30 seconds. He wanted out! Janelle asked what movie he'd like to watch. I looked at her as if she had just suggested he recite poetry. I politely explained that Brazos could care less what was on the TV. Brazos is only content when he is doing what he wants to do, when he wants to do it and the way he wants to do it. He does not like routine, structure or direction which makes me question his DNA. TV is not really his thing...too stationary I guess.
We moved over to the regular chair so he could sit in my lap (i.e.- so I could hold him down in a headlock). During the cut he wiggled and writhed, squirmed and arched his back in protest. When Janelle combed his hair he shook his head 'no' vigorously. When she managed to grab hair between her fingers to cut he'd jerk his head forward and yank it from her hands. Let me tell you, he was a dream client. This is precisely why I wouldn't let Casey take him to Oscar's barber shop in Junction. I like the haircuts he gives Casey and Pecos and I didn't want them banned from his shop. And also why I didn't ask my friend Rhonda who cuts my hair to give Brazos his first snip. She's heard about his antics but didn't think she needed a full demonstration....I want her to keep cutting my hair.
It took Brazos a full 30 minutes to calm himself down when it was over. It took a full 30 minutes for me to calm down and that was mostly due to a little retail therapy at Target just around the corner.
I snapped these photos after we left. At least when he asks for a photo of his first haircut I'll have proof that he was in no mood for a photo session.
In order to prepare for his next trim, my mother has suggested he go with Casey and Pecos next time they visit Oscar to watch them get haircuts. I had to remind her Brazos has the attention span of a gnat and he could care less what anyone else is having done to them. He is only interested in whatever happens to be spinning through his head at the moment.
As we were leaving Kool Cuts I was delighted to hear the screams from two little boys that were next up for hair cuts. I'm kind of mean like that sometimes.
For anyone that says Brazos is so cute, so sweet and so adorable I'm starting a sign up sheet so you can take him to get his next haircut.
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| the amber waves before harvest |
I needed to do a few things in San Antonio so I decided it would be a great time for his first haircut. My strategy was to take him somewhere with total strangers so that not if, but when he had a fit I'd never have to see them again. Get in, get a cut, get gone and never go back- that was the plan. My victim was Kool Cuts 4 Kids. Our stylist was Janelle. I tipped her well.
No cute "first haircut" pictures of him sitting in the fire truck chair with the drape around him smiling and taking it all in. Brazos would not allow it. I suppose there will be plenty of these milestones that will go unphotographed. When he gets older he'll no doubt think I didn't care enough to take pictures and I'll have to explain to him it was not even a remote possibility. OK, I get it, he's only 16 months old and I shouldn't expect him to behave like a 3-year old. But here lately he has been a C~R~A~Z~Y child in my presence; his teachers at Mother's Day Out and Oma all say he is just the perfect angel when I'm not around. I was fully aware of what to expect. I probably should have waited for a day that Casey was home and could go with me but that would have taken a whole other level of coordination. Instead I was treated to God's daily reminder that I'm not in control and a lesson on the virtue of patience. I'm not a very good student.
He was M~A~D. So mad he took off screaming toward the door and ran smack into it, just like a bird on the Windex commercial.
At first he was excited to climb into the fire truck seat. That lasted all of 30 seconds. He wanted out! Janelle asked what movie he'd like to watch. I looked at her as if she had just suggested he recite poetry. I politely explained that Brazos could care less what was on the TV. Brazos is only content when he is doing what he wants to do, when he wants to do it and the way he wants to do it. He does not like routine, structure or direction which makes me question his DNA. TV is not really his thing...too stationary I guess.
We moved over to the regular chair so he could sit in my lap (i.e.- so I could hold him down in a headlock). During the cut he wiggled and writhed, squirmed and arched his back in protest. When Janelle combed his hair he shook his head 'no' vigorously. When she managed to grab hair between her fingers to cut he'd jerk his head forward and yank it from her hands. Let me tell you, he was a dream client. This is precisely why I wouldn't let Casey take him to Oscar's barber shop in Junction. I like the haircuts he gives Casey and Pecos and I didn't want them banned from his shop. And also why I didn't ask my friend Rhonda who cuts my hair to give Brazos his first snip. She's heard about his antics but didn't think she needed a full demonstration....I want her to keep cutting my hair.
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| the 'after' shot, not as wavy but also not as trimmed as i would have liked it to be |
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| does he look like he just threw a fit of epic proportion? |
It took Brazos a full 30 minutes to calm himself down when it was over. It took a full 30 minutes for me to calm down and that was mostly due to a little retail therapy at Target just around the corner.
I snapped these photos after we left. At least when he asks for a photo of his first haircut I'll have proof that he was in no mood for a photo session.
In order to prepare for his next trim, my mother has suggested he go with Casey and Pecos next time they visit Oscar to watch them get haircuts. I had to remind her Brazos has the attention span of a gnat and he could care less what anyone else is having done to them. He is only interested in whatever happens to be spinning through his head at the moment.
As we were leaving Kool Cuts I was delighted to hear the screams from two little boys that were next up for hair cuts. I'm kind of mean like that sometimes.
For anyone that says Brazos is so cute, so sweet and so adorable I'm starting a sign up sheet so you can take him to get his next haircut.
translation: a pig roast
September 2011- Cochon de Lait. It means a pig roast. Actually, the literal translation is a young, suckling pig, as in one that is still nursing the big momma pig. And that is the ideal specimen for a traditional Cajun pig roast, although most people usually just buy a whole pig, regardless of its weaned status, (from a butcher or farm or whomever is the local purveyor of such) that is big enough to feed a crowd.
Now that you've had a French lesson, I'll tell you why. My sister is throwing a 30th birthday bash for her husband this weekend at their home in NOLA. That's New Orleans, Louisiana for any of you that are unfamiliar with the local dialect there.
Here's the invitation I made for the party; my contribution since we won't be in attendance.
Just to ease any doubts let me reassure you: I am not a graphic designer. I can barely stumble through Photo Shop Elements. It takes me 10 times longer to create what should take the professionals half an hour. {And just between us, I'm not a writer either. I rely heavily on a grammar handbook although I don't always do what it says. Plus, I have a bad habit of using way too many commas and other unnecessary punctuation.}
If you happen to be in the Big Easy on Saturday you should stop by. My mom is doing the appetizers so you know they'll be good. And my dad is roasting the swine so that should be worthy of indulgence as well. Seriously, go by and tell them I sent you.
Bon Appétit!
FAIRly frustrated
August 25, 2011- Time again for the Gillespie County Fair. And time to continue my quest for a trophy. Guess what? I finally got one! But wait, of course there is a story that goes with it. Kind of long but bear with me. It starts out like this:
I've tried to win a trophy with my canned goods (and occasionally baked goods) for the last four years and never seem to even come close. My mom, the home ec major, taught me those baking and canning skills as part of my 4-H projects. Every summer we made fig preserves and jelly- usually pepper jelly- to enter in the fair and give as Christmas gifts to friends and family. My history with canning has always been good and I always did well at the fair back at home, but they don't give out trophies there. Needless to say, when we moved here I felt compelled to uphold my family (maiden) name in the canned goods category at the Gillespie County Fair. Why I felt this way, I have no idea. Honestly, I'd enter something in the fair even if there wasn't a $3 first prize or trophy up for grabs. There's just something nostalgic about taking top honors at a county fair.
Okay, so I'm a country bumpkin kind of dork. I admit that and I own it.
Last fall I canned some pickled okra so they'd have plenty of time to set and get all pickled-y (yes, I know that isn't really a word). Then I made salsa for a family get together and had enough left to can one pint so that too went into the pantry as part of my trophy quest. Each time I get out the canning pot Pecos becomes interested in the tools of the trade and wants to help. Since there is a junior division at the fair I let him be my assistant so he can also enter something. His job is washing the vegetables and helping dunk the jars into boiling water. He also observes the chopping process and presses the pulse button on the food processor for me. But he never helps clean up the mess.
Just a month ago we returned from Louisiana with a bounty of fresh peppers from my dad's garden (remember, I'm a country girl and yes, my dad has an enormous garden with a bountiful harvest). So after hauling- & smelling- these peppers all the way home I gave some of them away and let the others sit on my counter for a week before I finally got a chance to do anything with them. I got ambitious and wanted to do something different from my usual pepper jelly; since that has never won a trophy I desperately needed to find an alternative strategy. I settled on making a hot pepper relish from a recipe I found on-line but never tried. After all the chopping and seeding it went into the pot to cook for a while and if you've ever "cooked down" something for canning you know there is a vast reduction in volume. So it was for this batch of relish. I ended up with barely one pint to can. And my frustration with the lady in charge of the adult division of canned goods grows every year as she refuses to take anything less than a pint sized jar. Quarts for vegetables and nearly everything except a relish or jelly. I'll never understand her rationale and she'll never understand why I think it is so wasteful. This is where the story really gets good, if you are a country bumpkin kind of dork like myself.
Fast forward to today. I arrived at the fair to enter my canned goods (no baked goods this year because that requires far too much time and concentration than Brazos will allow me to have). I automatically let Pecos enter the salsa since we only had one jar and there usually isn't much entered in the youth division for salsa. That left me with pickled okra and hot pepper relish. I went over to the canned good section to deliver my bounty to my arch nemesis of all things preserved in glass jars. She refused to take my hot pepper relish because it was in one of those cute new short and squatty PINT-SIZE jars. Okay, I get it, all of you non-country bumpkin dorks probably don't know what I'm talking about so here it is, sans relish:
Canning Queen tells me it is NOT a pint. I said it was...it even said so on the box. Canning Queen says no, not really, and then told me "if you would take the time to measure out a pint with a measuring cup and pour it into that jar you would know that it is a little bit less than a full pint". To which I replied "does it really make that much of a difference for a fair entry if it is just a half ounce or so less than a full pint?" Canning Queen was not amused. I assured her the difference in volume (a mere 3 tablespoons- yes, I measured when I got home) did not put me at a competitive advantage, nor did it pose a risk of botulism or other food safety hazard for the judges. Canning Queen insisted she wouldn't take it. I politely said okay and took BOTH of my jars back. Canning Queen wanted to know why I wouldn't enter my pickled okra. I told her it wasn't fun anymore, but thanks anyway.
Here's where I'll take a moment to rant for a bit. In today's times how many people are really canning anymore? It is sort of a lost skill that is not shared much, although I've read of community canning groups...kind of wish there was one nearby. Families no longer garden all summer and can everything to make it through the winter. Why should they- we have H-E-B (a Texas grocery store for any non-locals that may be reading this) and year round access to any produce you could want no matter what the season. You'd think the canned good know-it-all would just be happy that she has another jar to display and something for her judges to sample. But no, she gets a kick out of her once-a-year power to make us hobby canners feel embarrassed that we don't know the difference between a pint and an almost pint sized jar. Enough of that, I'll quit ranting now...thanks for indulging me.
So how did I get the trophy? Well, I didn't actually get it. Pecos did! Since he'd helped with the jars and pushed the button on the food processor, I took the relish over to the junior division where the mean Canning Queen doesn't reign and it was accepted for entry. In fact, the lady in charge over there- we'll call her "Glinda"- has an attitude that is much more pleasant...she is glad to take whatever comes in as long as it is canned properly. She doesn't want to discourage kids from learning how to do it- and she is just glad to fill her display shelves, even if it is with my short, squatty, almost pint sized jar.
The call tonight came that Pecos needed to be at the fair tomorrow at 2pm to take a picture with his trophy for winning with the hot pepper relish. And his prize for BEST OF SHOW HOME PRODUCTS is donated by none other than, you guessed it- the one and only self-declared canned good maven that rejected the not-quite-pint-sized jar. I wonder if she'll show up to be in the picture?
Now, I know this is not truly a win for me and an end to my trophy quest. I'll admit there are not near as many entries in the junior division and much better odds at winning an overall prize and trophy. But you'll have to excuse me while I relish in this moment.
I've tried to win a trophy with my canned goods (and occasionally baked goods) for the last four years and never seem to even come close. My mom, the home ec major, taught me those baking and canning skills as part of my 4-H projects. Every summer we made fig preserves and jelly- usually pepper jelly- to enter in the fair and give as Christmas gifts to friends and family. My history with canning has always been good and I always did well at the fair back at home, but they don't give out trophies there. Needless to say, when we moved here I felt compelled to uphold my family (maiden) name in the canned goods category at the Gillespie County Fair. Why I felt this way, I have no idea. Honestly, I'd enter something in the fair even if there wasn't a $3 first prize or trophy up for grabs. There's just something nostalgic about taking top honors at a county fair.
Okay, so I'm a country bumpkin kind of dork. I admit that and I own it.
Last fall I canned some pickled okra so they'd have plenty of time to set and get all pickled-y (yes, I know that isn't really a word). Then I made salsa for a family get together and had enough left to can one pint so that too went into the pantry as part of my trophy quest. Each time I get out the canning pot Pecos becomes interested in the tools of the trade and wants to help. Since there is a junior division at the fair I let him be my assistant so he can also enter something. His job is washing the vegetables and helping dunk the jars into boiling water. He also observes the chopping process and presses the pulse button on the food processor for me. But he never helps clean up the mess.
Just a month ago we returned from Louisiana with a bounty of fresh peppers from my dad's garden (remember, I'm a country girl and yes, my dad has an enormous garden with a bountiful harvest). So after hauling- & smelling- these peppers all the way home I gave some of them away and let the others sit on my counter for a week before I finally got a chance to do anything with them. I got ambitious and wanted to do something different from my usual pepper jelly; since that has never won a trophy I desperately needed to find an alternative strategy. I settled on making a hot pepper relish from a recipe I found on-line but never tried. After all the chopping and seeding it went into the pot to cook for a while and if you've ever "cooked down" something for canning you know there is a vast reduction in volume. So it was for this batch of relish. I ended up with barely one pint to can. And my frustration with the lady in charge of the adult division of canned goods grows every year as she refuses to take anything less than a pint sized jar. Quarts for vegetables and nearly everything except a relish or jelly. I'll never understand her rationale and she'll never understand why I think it is so wasteful. This is where the story really gets good, if you are a country bumpkin kind of dork like myself.
Fast forward to today. I arrived at the fair to enter my canned goods (no baked goods this year because that requires far too much time and concentration than Brazos will allow me to have). I automatically let Pecos enter the salsa since we only had one jar and there usually isn't much entered in the youth division for salsa. That left me with pickled okra and hot pepper relish. I went over to the canned good section to deliver my bounty to my arch nemesis of all things preserved in glass jars. She refused to take my hot pepper relish because it was in one of those cute new short and squatty PINT-SIZE jars. Okay, I get it, all of you non-country bumpkin dorks probably don't know what I'm talking about so here it is, sans relish:
And here's the label that foolishly led me to believe I'd done something right:
Canning Queen tells me it is NOT a pint. I said it was...it even said so on the box. Canning Queen says no, not really, and then told me "if you would take the time to measure out a pint with a measuring cup and pour it into that jar you would know that it is a little bit less than a full pint". To which I replied "does it really make that much of a difference for a fair entry if it is just a half ounce or so less than a full pint?" Canning Queen was not amused. I assured her the difference in volume (a mere 3 tablespoons- yes, I measured when I got home) did not put me at a competitive advantage, nor did it pose a risk of botulism or other food safety hazard for the judges. Canning Queen insisted she wouldn't take it. I politely said okay and took BOTH of my jars back. Canning Queen wanted to know why I wouldn't enter my pickled okra. I told her it wasn't fun anymore, but thanks anyway.
Here's where I'll take a moment to rant for a bit. In today's times how many people are really canning anymore? It is sort of a lost skill that is not shared much, although I've read of community canning groups...kind of wish there was one nearby. Families no longer garden all summer and can everything to make it through the winter. Why should they- we have H-E-B (a Texas grocery store for any non-locals that may be reading this) and year round access to any produce you could want no matter what the season. You'd think the canned good know-it-all would just be happy that she has another jar to display and something for her judges to sample. But no, she gets a kick out of her once-a-year power to make us hobby canners feel embarrassed that we don't know the difference between a pint and an almost pint sized jar. Enough of that, I'll quit ranting now...thanks for indulging me.
So how did I get the trophy? Well, I didn't actually get it. Pecos did! Since he'd helped with the jars and pushed the button on the food processor, I took the relish over to the junior division where the mean Canning Queen doesn't reign and it was accepted for entry. In fact, the lady in charge over there- we'll call her "Glinda"- has an attitude that is much more pleasant...she is glad to take whatever comes in as long as it is canned properly. She doesn't want to discourage kids from learning how to do it- and she is just glad to fill her display shelves, even if it is with my short, squatty, almost pint sized jar.
The call tonight came that Pecos needed to be at the fair tomorrow at 2pm to take a picture with his trophy for winning with the hot pepper relish. And his prize for BEST OF SHOW HOME PRODUCTS is donated by none other than, you guessed it- the one and only self-declared canned good maven that rejected the not-quite-pint-sized jar. I wonder if she'll show up to be in the picture?
Now, I know this is not truly a win for me and an end to my trophy quest. I'll admit there are not near as many entries in the junior division and much better odds at winning an overall prize and trophy. But you'll have to excuse me while I relish in this moment.
high 5
August 18, 2011- Pecos has been talking about being 5 for the last 5 months so in a way it felt like his birthday might never get here (he hasn't quite developed an understanding for span of time). But then again, when the day finally arrived we found ourselves wondering how the past 5 years just flew on by.
He had a great birthday here at home on his actual birthday. Presents and cake in the morning, hot dogs for lunch, playing with his gifts all day long and then hamburgers for dinner at Fuddrucker's (his choice!).
He specifically told me what wrapping paper he wanted and where exactly to place his presents (under the coffee table). While we were at the store last week he even selected his own birthday cards! Seriously, we were in the card aisle and while I was looking for plates and napkins he browsed through the cards, grabbed one and told me that was the one he wanted from me. He then proceeded to pick two other cards- one from Casey and one from Brazos!
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| whoopie pies! are what the birthday boy requested, and just in case you are wondering these are not from a box! |
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| it is so hot this summer, pecos has started sleeping shirtless and he refused to put clothes on before ripping into his presents! |
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| lots of presents to keep him busy |
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| brazos felt compelled to try out the birthday boy's new scooter |
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| digging toy from MiMi & Paw Paw |
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| said he was going to dig all the way to the bottom |
His birthday party was Disney Cars 2 themed. The original plan was a Lego party. But a couple of months back Casey told Pecos that if he had a Lego party then all he would get as presents would be Legos and he already had too many Legos. Casey said he should think about cars (meaning Hot Wheels cars) or something else, and since Pecos will do practically anything Casey tells him to he up and changed his mind from a Lego party to a Cars 2 party. So much for the great ideas I had in mind for a Lego party! The best part was he chose an indoor, air-conditioned facility for his big bash!
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| the invitation |
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| goodies for the goody bags (boxes) |
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| goody boxes |
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| the cupcake cake |
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| cousin Jarrett came to the party! |
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| brazos and paw paw had fun on the big slide |
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| The frog danced with the kids to the "if you're happy and you know it" song. Pecos didn't seem too happy, but I think he was just tired and ready for cake and presents. |
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| brazos thought he was so sneaky coming up behind the frog and giving him a good whack |
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| brothers! |
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| presents! |
And finally after what seemed like a marathon week of birthday celebration, Pecos had cupcakes with his class at school to celebrate with all of his new Kindergarten friends.
sick of summer
August 16, 2011- I'm sick of summer this year. That's right, I'm waving my surrender flag, giving up, throwing in the towel, tappin' out. Whatever you want to call it, I'm DONE. This hot dry weather is depressing and unbearable. Don't be surprised if we re-locate next year to the mountains. Or the coast. Wherever there are cool breezes and not a 60-day string of 100+ degree days.
Another reason I'm sick of summer: summer has made us sick. We started the first week of summer with a round of strep throat for the boys. And we ended it this past month with another round of strep, stomach bug and pink eye. To top it all off I've got a staph infection on my leg. I don't understand how any micro-organism can survive in this dry hot environment long enough to infect anyone, but I didn't go to med school so what do I know. Isn't that why all the retirees flock to Arizona- to live germ free in the hot arid desert?
So there. I'm declaring an end to summer. Bring on a cold front!
Another reason I'm sick of summer: summer has made us sick. We started the first week of summer with a round of strep throat for the boys. And we ended it this past month with another round of strep, stomach bug and pink eye. To top it all off I've got a staph infection on my leg. I don't understand how any micro-organism can survive in this dry hot environment long enough to infect anyone, but I didn't go to med school so what do I know. Isn't that why all the retirees flock to Arizona- to live germ free in the hot arid desert?
So there. I'm declaring an end to summer. Bring on a cold front!
sonsurf beach bash
July 22, 2011- St. Anthony Catholic Church hosted another fun and successful Vacation Bible School. The theme this year was SonSurf Beach Bash. After skipping out last year for maternity leave I returned to organize crafts for the 80+ kids in grades Pre-K to 5th. Thanks to all the prayers- and some awesome help- I'm able to make it happen.
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| me and my two beach bums |
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| the pre-k & kindergarten group practicing their song |
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| pecos decorating his clay cross |
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| finished and ready for it to dry |
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| brazos spent his time in child care munching Fruit Loops |
On the last day we had a beach bash party. I had a sand art craft and beach balls for the kids to decorate. It takes a while to inflate 80+ beach balls, even with an air compressor. And where do you put that many beach balls? Thankfully we live in Texas where there is no shortage of trucks.
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| so many beach balls we had to put some inside the cab of the truck |
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| brazos thought we had all those beach balls in the truck just for his enjoyment |
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| pecos is such the ladies man...he came to decorate his beach ball at the exact moment there were about 10 girls at the table. |
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| final performance |
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