Hurricanes and Bubble Baths

We've been watching the hurricane for the last couple of days, along with most folks in the southeast part of the country. It is especially odd watching reports from towns along the gulf coast we were in this summer, even if it was just passing through on our way to Destin. I was in New Orleans 3 years ago, staying at the Hyatt hotel next door to the Superdome. There have been pictures of that hotel on CNN today with windows broken out, curtains flapping in the wind - eerie.

Few of you will know that the Superdome was the sight of my finest adult athletic achievement (post knee surgery). At a regional HR meeting, I ran a 5k race (around the Superdome several times) in under 25 minutes. I'm sure I could have run it quicker except for the 2 Hurricanes and 1 cigar I had enjoyed at Pat O'Briens the night before. That and the fact I went to bed around 2am and the race was at 6:30am - though it was already about 125 degrees with 99% humidity when the race started. I never tried to pretend those HR meetings were strictly business!

We had a wild thunderstorm come through town Saturday night, knocking out our power from midnight to 8am. Around 10:45pm, Shelley came into Austin's room (as we tried to read the last chapters of Harry Potter) and said "you have to see this lightning". It was amazing. Huge strikes hitting the ground in the distance, crackling white streaks shooting across the sky, branching off in all directions like highways on a roadmap. It rained buckets, and I was happy to have mowed and edged the yard earlier that day, knowing it was soaking up the rain and I wouldn't have to slog through it on Sunday. Concerned that food in the freezer might spoil, I finished off the pint of Blue Bell Cookie Dough ice cream, which was fine.

We had an "organizational" meeting for Austin's Cub Scout den on Saturday, though I use the word "organizational" in quotes because it was anything but organizing. The parents in this group drive me nuts, because they don't listen and they don't follow directions and they visit with each other during meetings, leaving their boys to be wrangled by yours truly. Shelley and I prepared for 2 hours for this meeting, and we would have been better off staring at the sun for 2 hours, no more good than it did getting these parents to FOCUS! (I'll never forget the soccer coach "training" I went to in Amarillo. The leader assured us the boys would not be a problem, but the parents would make us want to pull out all our hair. Turned out exactly that way!)

Speaking of wanting to pull your hair out, a few tidbits about Braden are in order. The best trick I've got to get Braden into the bath is my offer to let him squirt in the bubble bath liquid. The first several times he did this he went berserk, squirting in way too much bubble bath with lightning-quick speed. After hearing me shout at him several evenings in a row, he has now taken up the habit of squirting in a tiny amount and asking "dat penty?" I'll say "no Braden, a little more". He'll squirt in a thimble-full and ask "dat penty?" "A little more." Out comes another tiny drop. "Dat penty?" "No, a little more please!" After about 5 to 10 rounds of this, I'll finally agree "yes, that's plenty", and he strips off his clothes, hops in the bath, and shakes his hand violently back and forth in the water to stir up as many bubbles as he can given his carefully rationed bubble bath liquid. It doesn't take much imagination to figure that the bathroom is usually a wet, soapy mess by the time he's done with his bath.

Bathtime also features one of his many endearing habits. Everytime I ask him to lay down in the water to get his hair wet (or to rinse out the shampoo), he starts to babble "da da da da da..." once his ears go underwater. I can remember as a little boy being fascinated by the muffled, distant sound of my own voice while talking with my ears under water, and it obviously entertains him, as well.

And special thanks to Aunt Kerry, who is the cause of my 3-year-old walking around the house all day declaring "here comes the big bad bunny, I come duh take all your money". If you make the mistake, (which I do, frequently) of replying "I don't have any money - all I have is this circus peanut" - or block, or remote control, or whatever I happen to have - he'll say "I take dat" and he removes whatever from your custody and marches off, asking "is no one safe from duh big bad bunny"?!

Austin and I went with Jeff Zirbser (Jamie's hubby) and Gibby (Austin's best friend) to an Astros game weekend before last. Not only was Austin able to get another baseball while leaning onto the visitor's dugout after the game, but he and Gibby were also on the Fox Sports SW national telecast of the game. Our neighbor was watching TV at home and saw him and Gibby leaning onto the dugout after a post-game interview on the field, in a close-up shot of the boys that lasted a full 5-10 seconds. (He had the shot on TIVO when we got home, and Shelley, Austin and I all went over there to watch - cool!) That was after their pictures were displayed on the big screen behind center field during the game holding up the "Go Stros"** poster Shelley and Austin made. Sometimes I think that kid is living a charmed life...

**Note to Mom: "Stros" is an abbreviation for "Astros", the nickname of the Houston Baseball franchise. I know how you disapprove of the use of mascots/nicknames when referring to sports teams, so I hope this helps clear that up. Love, B