Sunday, April 24, 2011

Easter weekend

It was an incredibly busy and fun Easter weekend. Grandma and Grandpa Wehr were in town for all of the Easter celebrations and we were able to take full advantage of their wanting to spend time with the Boy and the Twin-kies. Like many Austinites, we made our way down to Zilker park before lunch to ride the train and play on the playground. The entire place was a beehive of kids running and playing, the boys could not have had a better time.

The Twin-kies had the best time climbing the playscapes and bombing down the slides, without a concern about who was going to catch them at the bottom...and sometimes there wasn't somebody there, and they would just shoot off the end. They would then get up, brush off the wood chips and climb back up to do it all over again.

Nanny and Papa took care of the monkey's while Mrs. B and I went out for a double date with the Huddleston's.

Stefanie waiting for the movie to start....doesn't she look excited to see Hanna, the movie that I picked. Once the movie was over she actually said it was a pretty good choice, although if I had to guess she still would have chosen Water for Elephants instead.

We also had the chance to attend Easter services at ACTS Church Lakeway. Following the service, the boys had an Easter Egg hunt followed by a dinner.
Here is The Boy jamming as many eggs as he can in his undersized basket. You can tell he has done this before, because he had collected over half the eggs on the ground while the other kids were still opening and checking their first couple of eggs for candy. The Boy knows you have time to assess the booty once all of the eggs have been collected.

With extra hands in town to enjoy the fun that is bedtime, I took the opportunity to go and see a couple of additional movies with Michael Huddleston. Three straight days of movies at the Alamo Drafthouse means I had the chance to see this Alamo preview three days in a row. I don't know if it is the catchiness of the song, the excellent way the whole thing is put together, or the fact the commercial is just another advertisement of why Austin is so awesome, but when I got home yesterday, I just went ahead and bought the song on iTunes.

The three movies I was able to see this weekend were all pretty good, and served as an excellent appetizer for the typical glut of summer movie goodness.

Limitless - entertaining and an interesting premise. It is a definite renter but it isn't a throwaway if you want to see it in the theater.

Hanna - bad-ass - there were some intense action sequences that Mrs. B and Stef had difficulty watching, but for the most part it was very entertaining and action-packed from the moment the movie starts.

Your Highness - this movie isn't going to be for everybody, but if you enjoy stupid gross-out humor with a ton of crude jokes you won't be disappointed. That may have actually been the mimosa's talking, but Michael and I both really enjoyed the movie, but agreed our wives wouldn't have appreciated the sophisticated humor.
You have to be very comfortable with your manhood to share the Mimosa Duo with a fellow dude...thankfully I was up to the challenge.
I have been meaning to take a picture of this giant Barbarella poster at my local Drafthouse. The poster reminds me of my high school friend Josh, who exposed me to the wonderful classic staring Jane Fonda. Good times.

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Breaking a professional athlete

You know how you always hear stories about those professional athletes who screwed your fantasy team because they got injured. And not injured in some cool professional athlete way that will be an awesome story to tell for years to come, like any of these.

Although I am sure all of these hits were extremely painful, there was also a pretty high level of awesome. There is absolutely nothing to be ashamed about if you picked up an injury because of one of those hits. No, the injuries that I find particularly maddening are the ones where these supposedly superior athletes get hurt doing mundane things (ie. celebrating, ironing their shirt, or eating a donut. With the three boys I have recently discovered how incredibly often these career threatening injuries actually occur.

Just a couple of nights ago, I was helping the boys into the shower, and after laying out their pajamas for the evening, nearly killed myself when I re-entered the bathroom. The Twin-kies have discovered that playing with toys is fun, but creating an epic mess is more fun. They had thrown a colorful display of stackable cups all over the floor and appeared to be waiting to see what happened when I returned. Now normally I would just pick the cups back up and throw them back into the tub, but I wasn't looking where I was going (the intellectual side of me wants to tell you that I was reading a book, but the truth is probably closer to the ADHD side of me, which would have been checking Facebook or Twitter). Instead of picking up one of those little cups, I stepped on it, and slipped. Normally this wouldn't be a problem, but being that this was one cup of many, I promptly steps, and slipped on another and another cup. I kicked the wall pretty hard with my bare foot and then proceeded to fall into the closet (literally falling into a rack of dress shirts). The boys couldn't have been happier, they were laughing and giggling and showed their excitement by throwing out every other toy they could get their hands on.
The hazard zone so thoughtfully laid out by the monkeys. Notice the dog at the far end not even attempting to enter the room for fear of premature hip dysplasia.

I now have a greater understanding of those finely tune athletes that injure themselves in the most mundane of fashions. I am going to say I have and equal chance of injuring myself playing soccer or riding my bike as I do walking around the daily minefield laid out by my three persistent little monkeys.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Perfect Snack

There are moments in any parenting adventure where you are faced with the very real prospect of crying and laughing at the same time. With three boys, I think that my number of occurrences may actually end up slightly ahead of the average bear.

This past Wednesday morning Mrs. B and I were faced with one such event. Mrs. B and I are not what you would call morning people, but that hasn't stopped our boys from all waking up at some very early hours. Thankfully the Twin-kies are pretty well contained since they haven't yet figured out how to climb out of the cribs (by writing that phrase, I have now guaranteed that they will learn this new trick in under a week), and the Boy is pretty good at finding what he needs (food, remote, etc.) to keep himself happy in the morning.

Before you get all self-righteous about the fact that I allow my child to get up and turn on the TV and feed himself before I even greet him in the morning, consider that the one year Mrs. B and I actually commuted together, we didn't actually talk in the morning. I say this just to fully illustrate how much we aren't morning people. Besides, we figure we are teaching him self-sufficiency and responsibility (or at least that is what we tell other people when they look at us with judgmental eyes). The reality is that sometimes he gets up, gets his brothers up, and is potentially up to mischief for about a solid hour, before we get up. Most mornings, at worst, we have to deal with his screaming brothers because they are frustrated that he is messing with them since they can't get out of their cribs (yet)!!! However, other mornings are not so forgiving.

When I awoke this past Wednesday I took a shower right away, knowing the boys were already awake because I could hear them chattering away. They seemed fairly subdued compared to other mornings (note to self this isn't a good sign). As I walked out to pack my lunch in the kitchen I was greeted by the Boy.

"Hi Dada, guess what? I found the perfect snack for me and my brothers . . . and Como (our Lab puppy)."

Little could prepare me for what I found -- certainly not the exploded bag of Cheese-ITs earlier in the week, not the Boy climbing on top of the washer to get down "Pirate Booty” and certainly not the fact that the dogs can, and do, get to pretty much anything in the house.

What I walked in to find with Mrs. B made us both want to laugh and cry all at the same time. The Boy had gotten out the gallon of strawberry ice cream (with spoons . . .I mean we are civilized) and was feeding it through the bars to each of his younger brothers who were thankfully caged (I mean, in their cribs). Although the Twin-kies were covered from head to toe with sticky ice cream, they were still both using their spoons. Como was also covered because she had spent the last 30 minutes neck deep in a melting tub of ice cream. Mrs. B wanted to cry because we were faced with the reality of rewashing pretty much everything in the room, but at the same time it was pretty funny. Unfortunately it was time for me to head off to work, so I bounded out the door with a “Ta Ta!” All the judging mothers out there should know that I was struck down with a massive migraine about two hours later, so I guess it all evened out.