A Giant Batch of Hatch

A lovely stack of hatch chilies


What they look like roasted and ready.


Yummmm...I'd love to go to their festival one day.

August in North Texas is almost unbearable. Know what helps you get through it? Hatch chili season. The season is coming to an end, sad I know. BUT at least my freezer is full of processed chilies. I couldn't be happier. I spent hours on Friday peeling roasted chilies. Saturday, Scott and I spent hours de-seeding, chopping, measuring and freezing chilies. I feel ready for the winter now. We've had hatch chili eggs, hatch salsa, hatch lime dip, quesadillas..if we've thought of it, we've made it. Some people in Hatch, New Mexico (wait...there's a NEW Mexico??) say they can tell if the chilies come from North or South of I-40. Oh to have been lucky enough to earn this skill!! Practice makes perfect, luck ducks. Today is the last day for roasted chilies at Central Market. I highly suggest to you all, go get yours now. Do it. Right now. Seriously. Go.

The Big K

Seth making the "K" in sign language. (no..it's not right but thats OK)


Seth walks with Daddy and Y to school.


Seth and I walking into the school. He wanted to hold my hand. I love that.


Seth and the teacher. We should call her "Miss Maybe" after my Mom's temp/perm cat.




I remember my first day of school. I was pretty sure the party was over. My days of sleeping in had to come to a standstill. I want Seth to love school. I want him to wake up in the morning and be excited to go. Today was the first day of kindergarten. The Big K. I had to wake him up 4 times. I had to uncover his sweet little head 4 times. I had to make him respond to me..FOUR. Different. Times. (Haha Looks like the apple is resting in the shade of the tree!) Scott's genes helped him read at four, my genes made him sleep in. It's a good balance. Anyway, once he finally got up and ready to go, we headed out as a family on this big day. Seth's teacher is a temporary/possibly permanent teacher. He really liked her so I hope she stays around. He was super excited about the cafeteria. Apparently so excited, he neglected to actually eat the lunch I packed. He did however, eat it on the 4 min car ride home. Silly boy. He enjoyed being the only boy at the girl heavy lunch table. Looks like the party is not over. It would appear that it's only just begun. :) I love my boy.

The Sacrifices We Make

What a one year old can do while you chop vegetables. Amazing.


He learned to climb barstools today.


The poor living room.

People love to warn soon-to-be Moms about the sacrifices that come with this maternal position. You are told how your sleep, your beauty, your body, your free time..will all suffer in the name of raising children. And to some degree, they are right. You start convincing yourself that caffeine is your friend, beauty is over rated and yoga pants look best when they have been worn for 3 days in a row. I was thinking about these "sacrifices" as I was putting away laundry yesterday. My clean and orderly bathroom and bedroom were sacrificed in the name of keeping the children busy, while I put away clothes. Today, it was my kitchen and living room up on the altar. I felt I had no choice but to allow these rooms to be destroyed by the worlds cutest 15 month old in order to prepare nourishment for his little body. Nigel Short says “A good sacrifice is one that is not necessarily sound but leaves your opponent dazed and confused.” Dazed, confused and/or possibly entertained? I'm abandoning the notion that my house, as a whole, can be clean and orderly at the same time. And while this does bother me, I know in the grand scheme of things, it is a temporary situation. Two decades from now, my boys will not remember if every closet was systematically arranged, if every sock was still married to it's original partner or if occasionally, they were dried after a bath with the towels we reserve for the car and dogs. Reflecting on the day once they are in bed asleep I realize, it's not that much of a sacrifice, it's not that big of a deal and it's just not that big of a mess. I'll happily do it again tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that....

I Am an Artist

There is a book called "I Am an Artist" by Pat Lowery Collins that I love to read to Seth. It's such a sweet and beautiful book. Art has never really been Seth's thing. At least not yet. In life, all interests and hobbies are subject to change. It is however, Wyatt's thing..at least for the moment. I found him one day at the table in his sweet little pjs justa colorin' away. He sneaks into Scott's office to get to the markers. I've had to hide the box of crayons in a cabinet because if he can see them, he will climb to them come hell or high water.

Now I don't expect him to grow up and be an artist for a living. The life of an artist is a hard knock life for sure. If I could pick, I'd rather my children be really good at math but we don't pick these things now do we?

It makes my heart swell to see fat little fingers curl around a crayon. Now if only I could FIND the purple crayon. Note to self...don't leave the baby alone with crayons.

Slap me some skin my brotha'

The boys decided to swing for a bit. While swinging, I heard Seth say..come on man..slap me some skin. Haha Wyatt thought it was the funniest thing. They were the high five'n white guys for a good 5 mins. The other photos are just a couple of fun pictures.

Little boy...BIG Ouchie

Well Wyatt is one tough little guy. Tough? Check. Capable? Check. Aware of gravity? Eh..not so much. I can't say this wouldn't have happened if I had been watching..oh I totally watched it happen. He's just faster than I am. He climbed the ladder and them went right over the top. Eeeek...didn't see that coming.

Tumble dry on low, when needed

Dryers are fun. They must be. Both of my boys love the dryer. And what's not to love? Small space. Lots of light. Lots of little holes for little fingers. An echo to boot? So here are my boys..both in the dryer..both at 14 months old. Can you tell them apart? :)

The Dog Days of Summer

It was 746 degrees today. Or something like that. I can't understand it but my dogs still want to go outside and find the sunniest patch of grass and grab a nap. Weird-o dogs!! But whatever, right? I mean, they don't tell me where to nap. And I guess I do understand napping when and where you can. Can't blame 'em I guess.

Arrgggggggg...it's a White Pirate

Last night I created a tasty little cocktail. I'm not saying I'm the first to mix these ingredients together..I'm not saying that this name doesn't exist somewhere. If you've had this at some frat mixer, keep it to yourself. Let me bask in the glory that is my happy concoction. It's just a take off of a White Russian. Ladies and gentlemen..I give you...the White Pirate!

2 oz Kaluah
2 oz Rum
4 oz cream (that's right...4 oz. No one said this was good for you. Live it up.)

As you can see from the ice cubes in Scott's White Pirate, it made for a happy drink. LOL